Both obsessed/Tom Riddle (completed)

030 Sleeping like a baby.

The moonlight poured through the tall windows, casting silver streaks across the floor of Tom's chambers. The air was heavy with a sense of calm, a stark contrast to the violence and intensity of the earlier hours. Ernesh, after hours of feeding and draining, was barely conscious, his body exhausted from the toll the blood had taken on him. The weight of his power, the need to feed, had drained him more than usual tonight.

With a soft groan, Ernesh had insisted on being carried to his chambers, his delicate body too weary to walk. Tom, ever patient, had obliged without protest. His strong arms cradled Ernesh effortlessly, the smaller frame of the dark-haired figure nestled against his chest. The weight of Ernesh's body in his arms felt natural, a comforting presence that seemed to center Tom in a way that nothing else could.

They moved through the chambers, past the shadows of forgotten relics, until they reached the large, luxuriously appointed bathroom. Tom set Ernesh down carefully on the edge of the marble tub, before gently helping him remove the remnants of his blood-soaked clothes. The vulnerability in Ernesh's eyes was fleeting, but Tom noticed it, the tiredness in his gaze giving way to the quiet trust he always placed in Tom.

He ran the water for him, the steam rising in soft tendrils, filling the room with a sense of warmth. Tom took great care as he undressed Ernesh and helped him into the bath, the warmth of the water washing away the tension that had built up throughout the night. Ernesh relaxed under Tom's careful ministrations, his head resting back against the rim of the tub, eyes half-closed as he let the heat soothe his drained muscles. He was always like this after feeding—distant, but vulnerable, and Tom could never resist caring for him in those moments.

Once the bath was done, Tom gently helped Ernesh out, drying him off with a soft towel. His hands lingered on Ernesh's skin, moving slowly, as though memorizing the feel of him, the delicate curves of his body, the smoothness of his skin. Ernesh didn't protest as Tom changed him into his pajamas, a soft, loose shirt and comfortable pants that always fit perfectly, a routine that had become second nature to both of them. It was a quiet intimacy between them, something so simple, but so deeply personal.

Tom then lifted Ernesh into his arms once more and carried him to the bed. As he settled Ernesh into the soft sheets, the weight of the day's events seemed to catch up with the boy. Ernesh, despite the incredible power he wielded, was just like anyone else when he was tired. He curled into the bed with a soft sigh, his face peaceful in sleep almost instantly, his breathing slow and steady.

Tom stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, watching him. The beauty of Ernesh was still overwhelming, even in sleep—his hair spread out across the pillow like a dark halo, the sharp angles of his face softened by exhaustion. He looked innocent in a way that almost made Tom's chest ache. It reminded him of a child after a big meal, exhausted and content, unaware of the strength he wielded or the darkness that lurked within.

A sense of possessiveness stirred in Tom's chest, though he did not show it. It was a deep, quiet feeling—he had claimed Ernesh in every sense of the word, but it was moments like these that reminded him of how much he needed him, how deeply entwined they were. He couldn't shake the feeling that Ernesh, in his exhaustion and vulnerability, was somehow even more powerful. There was a strength in how he trusted Tom, how he allowed himself to be taken care of, even after everything they had gone through.

Tom reached down and gently kissed Ernesh's forehead, then his lips—soft and lingering. A quiet, possessive kiss that only deepened his feeling of ownership. He kissed his chest, just above the heart, as if reaffirming his claim on the boy, on everything Ernesh was, even in these moments of rest.

With a sigh, Tom straightened, the quiet intimacy of the moment settling in. He stood there for a few moments longer, his gaze never leaving Ernesh's sleeping form. There was something calming about this, something that soothed Tom's own restless mind.

After a few moments, Tom turned away, heading for the bathroom. He needed a shower, the remnants of the night's events still clinging to him—both physically and emotionally. But as he stepped under the hot spray of water, his mind was not on the cleansing, but on Ernesh. How perfect he looked, how his body had been so willingly shaped into something both beautiful and deadly. How every piece of him, every touch, every kiss, seemed to belong to Tom. Even in the quiet moments of sleep, Tom could feel that connection—unspoken, powerful, and permanent.

And he knew that as long as Ernesh was by his side, there was nothing in this world that could separate them.