Summary: Tom Riddle became a sweet reprieve. Merope Gaunt/Morfin Gaunt. Incest. Drabble.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters.
The House of Gaunt
'Slither like the snake you are!' orders Papa as she rolls her hips and tries to ignore her body's physical response. 'Move faster!'
She wills her body to stop moving in a way that it finds pleasurable, but it doesn't listen and it moves towards completion anyway. Beneath her, Morfin is grunting and moaning, completely at ease as she rides him. He tries to grab at her but she bats his hand away, which only seems to enrage him.
In the blink of an eye she is beneath him, on her belly, as he violently thrusts into her. It's painful and it hurts and she smiles because of it. This is better, she thinks.
'Morfin!' yells Papa, 'she's meant to be on top you today! Do as I say or else!'
And so again, she is moving and desperately trying to stiffle her moans and control her breathing as she thinks of cooking and cleaning.
'Are you almost done boy!' asks Papa, sat on a chair watching them.
Morfin shakes his head, and she begins to grow desperate. Her body is humming. She feels like a string pulled taught, ready to snap. Merope wishes he wouldn't take so long.
'Hurry up boy! She's been at it for a fucking hour!'
And yet, Morfin can't finish, whereas she's struggling not to.
Were her Papa to ask, she could easily tell him that Morfin wasn't stiff enough and that he'd been going through periods of hardness to softness inside of her. She knew because she could feel it. And that that was the reason as to why he wasn't able to finish.
But she couldn't tell him.
She feels herself begin to flutter around Morfin once again, and shifts to stop the sensations. It's too late however and as she reaches her peak, she notices a carriage in the far distance, coming closer.
Tom Riddle.
Their handsome neighbour, just returned from his final year of schooling from abroad. He's kind she's noted. Always so polite and respectful to all those around him. He is quite possibly the only man she's ever come across that doesn't sneer at her. He'd spoken to her once, only in passing and only with a cordial hello but... He was a good man.
'Morfin!' Papa yells again. 'You're 17! Why the fuck is it taking you so long?! Hurry up or you'll fucking regret it!'
She doesn't bother to stop moving, at thirteen, she learned long ago to never stop until told to do so. It was her job to continue the family bloodline after all. Pure-blood ran through her veins. She had to keep moving until filled with Morfin's seed so as to continue her noble heritage gifted to her by the great and honourable Salazar Slytherin.
Numb and sweaty, breathing heavily from her effort and completion, she watches as the carriage nears and then passes their home.
She thinks of black wavy hair and beautiful green eyes. He's what a Prince would look like, she thinks. The kind to save the damsel in distress and loving her for all of his life.
She begins to use that fantasy then and there. Escaping to a world where Tom Riddle saves her.
He becomes the one beneath her.
It is his voice she hears groaning from her touch.
It is his face she sees as she finishes yet again.
Her release becomes bearable then.
Soon, it is only of him that she thinks of.
He becomes hers. Their fantasy lives together, a sweet escape.
A part of her would later feel guilty for thinking of the kind Tom Riddle in such a way but then, she reasons, it is just a dream and nothing bad can come of it.