Both obsessed/Tom Riddle (completed)

018 Chambers & Snakes

The morning air in the Slytherin dormitory was heavy, almost oppressive, as Tom stirred awake. He shifted slightly, his sharp, angular features still cast in shadow, but his movements were deliberate as he tightened his arm around the figure pressed against him. Ernesh. The boy lay curled into his side, their hips flush, their legs entangled beneath the emerald-green duvet. His head rested against Tom's shoulder, black strands of damp hair sticking to his pale forehead. Even in sleep, Ernesh was unsettlingly still—his breaths faint, his body unnaturally cool, almost doll-like. Tom smirked faintly to himself, fingers trailing lazily down Ernesh's side before they slid to rest possessively on the curve of his hip, his hand creeping lower.

Tom leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of Ernesh's ear. "Wake up, darling," he whispered, his voice low, tinged with a dangerous softness. His hand squeezed lightly, his thumb dragging slow circles against the fabric of Ernesh's pajama bottoms. Ernesh stirred faintly, his lips parting as a small, soft noise escaped him, caught between sleep and wakefulness. Tom pressed a kiss against his temple before speaking again, more insistent this time. "Ernesh. I have plans for us today. Get up."

Ernesh's dark eyes fluttered open, black as an abyss, unfocused for a moment before they locked on Tom's face. He blinked, his gaze blank and almost unsettling in its intensity. Tom's smirk widened. "There you are," he murmured, his fingers now gently stroking Ernesh's jawline. "Go shower, love. I'll pick out your clothes for today."

Ernesh nodded silently, already moving to obey. He slipped from the bed without a word, his movements fluid but oddly mechanical. Tom watched him with an almost predatory satisfaction, his dark eyes raking over the boy's slender frame. Even the way Ernesh walked was captivating—the sway of his hips, the delicate ripple of his green and gold markings beneath his translucent skin, barely visible in the dim light. He looked otherworldly, like a creature born of shadows and serpents, and Tom reveled in the knowledge that he was the one who had shaped Ernesh into what he was now. His doll. His creation. His.

As the sound of water filled the room, Tom rose from the bed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He moved to the wardrobe and began selecting Ernesh's outfit with meticulous care. Black, of course—it suited Ernesh's eerie beauty. Tom chose a fitted black shirt, tailored trousers, and the corset that cinched so perfectly around Ernesh's delicate waist. For accents, he added the emerald necklaces he adored, the green stones gleaming like shards of serpent scales.

When Ernesh returned, his damp hair falling in dark waves around his face, Tom beckoned him forward with a single finger. Ernesh obeyed without hesitation, standing before Tom with the same eerie stillness he always carried. Tom took his time dressing him, his hands lingering on the smooth, porcelain-like skin of Ernesh's shoulders and waist. He tightened the corset with slow, deliberate movements, relishing the way Ernesh's breath hitched slightly with each pull.

"Perfect," Tom murmured once he was finished, his hands resting on Ernesh's waist as he stepped back to admire his work. Ernesh stood silently, his black eyes meeting Tom's gaze with a flicker of something unreadable. Satisfaction? Submission? Tom didn't care. What mattered was that Ernesh was his—completely, utterly his.

"Come," Tom said, sliding his arm around Ernesh's waist. "I thought we'd start the day with an early breakfast before our... plans."

Ernesh tilted his head slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible curiosity flickering across his face, but he said nothing. He didn't need to. Tom guided him out of the dormitory, keeping him close, their bodies pressed together as they made their way through the silent, empty corridors.

The Great Hall was eerily quiet at this hour, the long tables empty save for a few scattered early risers. Tom and Ernesh took their usual spot at the Slytherin table, where a modest breakfast had been laid out. Tom filled his plate with toast and eggs, but Ernesh's gaze drifted to the platter of meats—rare cuts of beef, glistening with crimson juices. His fingers twitched slightly as he reached for a slice, his movements oddly tentative, as though embarrassed by his own hunger.

Tom noticed immediately, his sharp eyes glinting with amusement. "Go on, Ernesh," he said softly, leaning closer until his lips were mere inches from the boy's ear. "Take what you crave. There's no need to hold back."

Ernesh hesitated for only a moment before he picked up the piece of meat, his black eyes locked on Tom's as he brought it to his lips. He bit into it with a deliberate slowness, the raw juices dripping down his chin. Tom watched, enthralled, as Ernesh chewed silently, his expression utterly serene despite the feral hunger in his actions.

"You're beautiful when you're like this," Tom murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "So primal. So perfect."

Ernesh glanced at him, his gaze unreadable, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Tom's chest tightened. There was something intoxicating about the way Ernesh could shift between doll-like obedience and subtle, quiet defiance. It was a balance that kept Tom on edge, always craving more.

After breakfast, the two wandered the dungeons, the cold, damp air wrapping around them like a shroud. Tom's hand never left Ernesh's waist, his fingers occasionally brushing against the exposed skin just above the boy's corset. They didn't speak much as they walked, their footsteps echoing faintly in the empty corridors. The silence was comfortable, almost intimate, punctuated only by the occasional squeeze of Tom's hand or the soft sound of Ernesh's breathing.

Eventually, they reached the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Tom stopped, turning to face Ernesh fully. "I've found something," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "A place just for us."

Ernesh tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering as Tom hissed in Parseltongue, the words slithering from his lips like a serpent's breath. The stone wall before them began to shift and grind, revealing the dark, gaping maw of the chamber beyond.

Tom took Ernesh's hand, leading him into the depths. The air grew colder with each step, and the darkness seemed almost alive, pressing in around them. Ernesh clung to Tom's side, his slender fingers gripping tightly at Tom's arm.

When they finally entered the chamber, the sight before them was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The massive basilisk lay coiled in the center, its golden eyes gleaming with a malevolent intelligence. The creature's head lifted as they approached, its forked tongue flicking out to taste the air.

Tom stopped just a few feet away, his grip on Ernesh tightening. "This is ours," he said, his voice filled with quiet reverence. "A sanctuary. A throne. No one can touch us here."

Ernesh's gaze was fixed on the basilisk, his black eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination. The creature's eyes locked on his, and for a moment, the air seemed to still. Then, slowly, it lowered its massive head, bowing before them.

Tom smiled, his hand sliding up to rest against Ernesh's neck. "Even the greatest of beasts bow to us," he murmured, his lips brushing against Ernesh's ear. "Do you see, my love? We're unstoppable."

Ernesh leaned into him, his body trembling faintly as Tom's arms wrapped around his waist. Together, they stood before the great serpent, their silhouettes framed by the flickering torchlight. They were a pair of shadows in the darkness—beautiful, dangerous, and utterly inseparable.