Both obsessed/Tom Riddle (completed)

024 First argument.

The weeks since Ernesh's first act of unrestrained violence had unsettled Tom more than he was willing to admit. The disappearance of the Hufflepuff student was still a whispered rumor in the halls, but Tom knew the truth. He had known it the moment he saw the crimson stains under Ernesh's nails, the faint iron tang of blood on his breath.

He hadn't confronted Ernesh immediately. Part of him didn't want to. The boy—no, the creature—had been too still, too perfect as he sat waiting in Salazar Slytherin's private office, his legs crossed demurely at the ankles, his hands folded in his lap. Ernesh looked like a doll, fragile and composed, but Tom knew better now. There was something monstrous behind those glassy green eyes, something that made his stomach twist in ways he didn't understand.

When he finally returned to the office late one evening, the air inside was suffocating, thick with tension. Ernesh was perched on the desk again, his posture immaculate, his head tilted slightly to the side as he watched Tom enter. His lips parted in a small, sweet smile, but his eyes—those unnaturally green eyes—glinted with something sharp, something dangerous.

"You're late," Ernesh said softly, his voice as delicate as a porcelain wind chime.

Tom hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. There was a weight in the room that he couldn't ignore, a predatory stillness in the way Ernesh sat there, waiting. "I've been busy," he said finally, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "The Knights require my attention. You understand that."

Ernesh's smile didn't waver, but something in his gaze darkened. "Oh, I understand," he murmured, his tone deceptively gentle. "I understand perfectly. You've been so busy, Tom. So busy that you haven't noticed how... hungry I've been."

Tom stiffened. "I told you to wait," he said sharply. "I told you I'd take care of it."

"And I tried," Ernesh replied, his voice still sweet, but there was an edge to it now, a barely restrained fury that made Tom's pulse quicken. "I waited. I starved. And then you left me for weeks, with nothing. What was I supposed to do?"

Tom's jaw tightened. "You weren't supposed to kill a student," he snapped. "Do you have any idea how reckless that was? How dangerous?"

Ernesh slid off the desk, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. "Reckless?" he repeated, his voice soft and lilting. "Dangerous? Tom, you don't understand. The hunger—it isn't something I can control. It's not a choice. It's everything."

He stepped closer, his bare feet silent on the stone floor, his eyes locked on Tom's with an intensity that made Tom's throat tighten. "You left me," Ernesh whispered, his voice trembling with something between anger and desperation. "You left me, and I couldn't... I couldn't wait. I couldn't stop."

Tom felt his back press against the door as Ernesh advanced on him, his slender frame deceptively delicate. For the first time in his life, Tom Riddle felt a flicker of fear—not for his plans, not for his power, but for himself.

"Ernesh..." he began, his voice unsteady.

But Ernesh's expression shifted then, the anger fading as quickly as it had appeared. His head tilted, his lips curving into a soft, almost childlike smile. "I'm sorry, Tom," he said quietly, his hands clasping in front of him like a penitent child. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'll do better. I'll wait next time. I'll be good."

The sudden change in him was so disarming that Tom could only stare. Ernesh stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly against Tom's chest. his voice so soft it was almost a sigh. "I'll do whatever you want. Just don't leave me again."

Tom's breath caught in his throat as Ernesh's hands slid up to his shoulders, his touch feather-light. He should have felt triumphant, in control. But instead, he felt like the one on strings, pulled and manipulated by the delicate creature in front of him.

"Ernesh..." Tom tried again, but the words died in his throat as Ernesh leaned in, his lips brushing against the corner of Tom's jaw.

"You don't have to be scared of me, Tom," Ernesh murmured, his breath warm against Tom's skin. "I like being your doll. I like being yours."

And then Ernesh's lips moved to Tom's neck, his tongue flicking out to trace the faint line of his pulse. Tom's breath hitched, his hands instinctively gripping Ernesh's waist as he felt the sharp press of teeth against his skin.

"Ernesh, wait—"

But it was too late. Ernesh bit down, his fangs sinking into Tom's flesh with a sharp, searing pain that quickly melted into something else—something dark and electric and overwhelming. Tom's knees buckled, and he stumbled back against the door, his head falling back as Ernesh pressed against him, his body small and impossibly strong.

The blood flowed freely, hot and rich, and Ernesh drank deeply, his hands gripping Tom's shoulders with a strength that belied his delicate appearance. The sensation was almost too much—pleasure and pain intertwined, magic sparking in the air around them as their bond deepened in ways neither of them fully understood.

Tom's fingers dug into Ernesh's waist, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as his vision blurred. He could feel the pull of Ernesh's hunger, the way it consumed him, but he couldn't bring himself to stop it. The pleasure coursing through him was too intense, too addictive.

Ernesh moaned softly against Tom's neck, his body trembling as the blood filled him, warming him from the inside out. He felt alive, powerful, and utterly undone all at once. The taste of Tom's magic, dark and potent, was like nothing he had ever experienced. It consumed him, overwhelmed him, until he was trembling with the sheer intensity of it.

Tom's knees finally gave out, and they sank to the floor together, Ernesh straddling Tom's lap as he continued to feed. Tom's hands roamed up Ernesh's back, tangling in his hair as he let out a low, shuddering moan.

"Enough," Tom gasped, his voice hoarse, but his hands betrayed him, pulling Ernesh closer instead of pushing him away.

Ernesh finally pulled back, his lips and chin stained with blood, his eyes glowing a vivid, inhuman green. He looked down at Tom, his expression soft and doll-like, but there was a flicker of something triumphant in his gaze.

"You taste amazing," Ernesh whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of satisfaction and awe.

Tom stared up at him, his chest heaving, his body trembling from the aftershocks of their connection. He should have felt angry, should have felt violated. But all he felt was an overwhelming sense of need—need for the creature in his lap, the one who had brought him to the brink of destruction and left him craving more.

Ernesh leaned down, his bloodstained lips brushing against Tom's in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. "I'll always be yours, Tom," he murmured, his voice soft and sweet. "But you'll always be mine too."

And in that moment, Tom realized he didn't mind being on strings, as long as they were pulled by Ernesh.