Warnings for this chapter: I don't quite know what warning to issue for this chapter, but there is some (graphic) sexual content and still some very obvious consent issues.
18. THAT BLOODY BUSINESS
"Tom?" It was the softest whisper that halted him in his tracks, made him turn back in surprise and approach his little wife, buried almost completely beneath the covers.
He had got used to her being still asleep, or at least feigning sleep, in the mornings and she had never once called him back or made any attempt at conversation. This aberration seemed a little worrisome to him.
"What is it, little kitten?" he thus asked in his gentlest tone, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"May I be excused from breakfast today?" she whispered. "I'm not feeling well."
"What's wrong? Are you sick?" he asked. She did indeed look a little peaky, her creamy skin even paler and a colourless tint to her normally rosy lips.
"I'm not sick," she protested. "I'm just not feeling well and I'm not hungry. I'll be fine in a couple of days."
"'A couple of days' does not sound fine, Holly. I'll call Severus," Tom declared, already snapping for a house-elf to send the Potions Master to their rooms.
"But… I'm not sick," Holly argued again, rather unconvincingly as her pale face scrunched up in pain and she curled up tighter under the covers.
"Yes, I can see that," Tom replied, still gently, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Do you have a stomach ache?"
"No," Holly muttered unhappily and he found it about as credible as her earlier assertion that she wasn't sick. "I'm fine."
"You just said you weren't, not one minute ago," Tom snapped, only softening his tone when Holly winced and pressed a shaking hand against her forehead. "Holly… what's going on? Did something happen to make you not want to go down for breakfast? Did Bella say something to you again?"
"No, I haven't even seen her," Holly said. "And it's not… I'm just… Forget I said anything. I'll come to breakfast."
She pushed back the covers and made to get up and Tom had to react quickly when she stumbled and swayed dangerously, folding in on herself again.
"Holly!" He caught her, stabilising her against his own body and resting his hand on her clammy forehead.
She groaned softly in response and didn't protest when he swiftly manoeuvred her back into bed. He was smoothing the covers back over her when there was a knock on the door, heralding Severus' arrival.
"Enter!" he called loudly, lightly caressing over Holly's shoulder when she mumbled another protest about how this wasn't necessary.
Severus appeared in the open door of the bedroom, hesitated briefly, but then purposefully moved towards them. "My Lord, you called?"
"Holly isn't feeling very well this morning," Tom explained, reluctantly ceding his spot next to her so that the Potions Master had room to examine her. "Though, we're in disagreement whether she's sick or not."
"I'm not sick," Holly muttered.
"Yes, that must be why you almost fainted into my arms and why you're clutching your stomach as if something's eating you alive," Tom gave back.
She glared at him and Severus sighed before he started to run diagnostic spells on her, his eyebrows drawing together in a furrow.
"What is it?" Tom demanded impatiently.
"Holly, am I correct in assuming that you're having your period?" Severus asked instead of answering him, receiving a very hesitant nod from Holly, whose pale cheeks had flooded with sudden colour. "And that the discomfort you're experiencing right now is connected to your menstrual cycle?"
Holly nodded again before answering in a whisper, "I get cramps and I feel a bit dizzy sometimes and… but I'm fine. I'll be fine."
Tom suppressed a sigh, listening quietly as Severus ran through a list of other symptoms with her, most of which she admitted to having.
"But it gets better after a few days, three at most," she almost pleaded. "And I can handle it. It's not a big deal, really, Aunt Petunia never let me… And I don't have to stay in bed and I'll attend meals if you want, and my lessons, and…"
"Holly, if you're not feeling well it is a big deal to me," Tom interrupted her gently, trying to stem the worry he could hear in her voice. "Severus, is there a potion you could give her?"
"I'll have to check my stocks first, but provided I have all the ingredients I should have a potion ready for her within the hour," Severus declared, rising to his feet. "Until then, might I suggest a warm water bottle and some ginger tea?"
"Thanks, Professor," Holly mumbled with a fleeting smile that got a little wider as her house-elves sent up a steaming pot of tea and a warm water bottle a moment later. "Thanks, Dobby and Winky!"
"Have one of the others get the ingredients for you, if necessary," Tom ordered, walking Severus to the door, and the younger man nodded obediently and slipped out of their rooms.
"You could try saying 'thank you' next time," Holly pointed out when he returned to her side.
"I could," Tom agreed easily. "Why don't you try to get a bit more sleep? I'll wake you when the potion is ready."
"I can't sleep with you watching me," Holly replied, curling around the warm water bottle she had pressed to her stomach.
Tom thought about protesting that or offering some kind of compromise, but Holly still looked miserable and embarrassed and while he had known, intellectually, that some women experienced menstrual problems, the large list of symptoms Severus had coaxed out of his wife was still rather shocking. He dearly wished that after everything else she had already suffered (everything else he had put her through) she could have at least been spared this particular pain and discomfort.
"I'll leave you in peace then, but call for me if you need anything," he said instead, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "I hope you'll feel better."
"Thank you, Tom," he heard her soft whisper again as he slowly pulled the door closed.
He sighed as soon as the door had clicked fully shut, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the beginnings of a tension headache. He didn't want to leave Holly by herself – it didn't feel right. How could he go about his day as usual, eating breakfast, reading the paper, having conversations, when Holly was up here, in pain and miserable? No, he wasn't leaving. He had agreed to give her her space so that she could get some rest, but he would be waiting right here in the living room until Severus got back with the potion.
That resolved he sank into his armchair, snapping for a house-elf to bring him some coffee and the Daily Prophet, thinking that he could try to distract himself from his worries about Holly with whatever nonsense populated the pages this time. Nonsense about him, presumably. Public interest hadn't died down yet and while some level of infamy could certainly be useful for his plans, he still wished they would stop accompanying every mention of his moniker with an enumeration of his many alleged misdeeds. It was getting rather tiresome and it gave an unfortunate slant to even the most innocuous and benign pieces of news. He'd have to talk to Lucius about that again.
He had almost finished the newspaper and his second cup of coffee by the time Severus came back and he quickly rose to his feet and then carefully pushed the door to the bedroom open, not wanting to wake Holly if she had managed to fall back asleep. But at the slight creak of the door her green eyes fluttered open immediately, still clouded with pain and unease.
"Hey, how are you feeling?" Tom asked gently. "Severus is here with your potion. Here, let me help you sit up a little."
He slipped his arm around her and gently manoeuvred her to lean against his chest. He didn't quite know what to make of it when she merely allowed his manhandling when she was usually so very quick to put him in his place for taking such liberties. She was shivering, her hands bunched in tight fists around the covers.
He glanced at Severus, then pointedly down at the small potions bottle in his hand, filled with a mauve-coloured liquid. Severus obeyed readily, unstoppering the vial before carefully pressing it into Holly's shaking hand.
"Drink up now," he instructed in an almost gentle tone. "You'll feel better."
Holly cast him a sceptical look but then obediently downed the potion, grimacing unhappily at the taste. Tom watched her avidly, absently tracing his hands up and down her sides so that he noticed when the tension suddenly seeped out of her body and she puffed a small sigh of relief.
"I do, I do feel better," she said wondrously. "What potion is this, sir? The one Madam Pomfrey usually gives me helps against the nausea, but not much else, and even with her healing spells… And we tried different potions, too, but they only ever helped against the cramps or against the dizziness or against the nausea, but not all at the same time."
"Madam Pomfrey never consulted me about your case," Severus replied. "Would you say that all your symptoms have cleared up or is there something we still need to address?"
"I feel fine. Great, actually," Holly gave back with a light shrug and a smile. "And Madam Pomfrey did reach out to St. Mungo's, but they didn't suggest this potion, either. What's it called?"
"It doesn't have a name," Severus answered and Tom was not impressed with his evasiveness.
"I appreciate that Holly is feeling better, but you better not have tested out an experimental potion on my wife, Severus," he commented with a dangerous edge to his voice.
"It's not an experimental potion and it has been well tested," the Potions Master replied. "I just never bothered to name or try to market it."
Tom was about to ask for a further clarification when Holly pre-empted him, sitting up fully and reaching out to rest a light hand on Severus' forearm. "You developed this potion for my mother."
It hadn't been a question, but the professor still gave a sharp, grudging nod, and Holly beamed at him as if he had just made her the greatest gift, leaning forward to hug him around the neck. "She was very lucky to have you as a friend."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Severus retorted, roughly freeing himself from her embrace and turning away. "If I might be excused, my Lord?"
"Professor!" Holly called, pushing away from Tom and springing up from the bed. "I'm sorry if I upset you, that's not… I only meant to say thank you."
"I have potions to attend to," Severus said, avoiding her beseeching eyes to look instead to Tom. "If I'm no longer needed here, my Lord?"
"I believe Holly would like you to join us for breakfast. If you can spare the time, of course," Tom replied, his voice making clear that refusing was not an option.
"Yes, my Lord," the younger man agreed dutifully.
"Excellent, we will wait in the sitting room while Holly gets dressed," Tom declared, grinning at the unimpressed look on Holly's face. "Take your time."
"Tom…" she murmured warningly, but then turned to Severus instead. "Professor, I don't want to keep you if you're busy. You've already helped me more than enough today and I'm sure Tom also knows how valuable your work is." She threw him a quick, forbidding look. "Dobby will bring some breakfast to your study and I'll see you tomorrow for our Occlumency lesson. Right, Tom?"
She stared up at him in a silent demand, her arms crossed over her chest, her hair falling around her shoulders in tousled waves, her green eyes sparking defiant fire. She was absolutely beautiful.
"You may go, Severus," Tom said without glancing at the other wizard. "I think Holly and I will enjoy our breakfast for two."
"Thank you, my Lord. Holly," Severus slipped into a swift bow before just as swiftly slipping out of their rooms.
Holly's stance only became more defiant when they were alone. "Do not scold me for this. You were being mean."
"On the contrary, I thought I was very accommodating. You seemed to want to talk to Severus – I was trying to facilitate," Tom replied easily, almost a little amused by Holly's anger, her obvious protectiveness towards one of his most skilled, and arguably most dangerous, Death Eaters.
"By making him even more uncomfortable?" she demanded. "If he doesn't want to talk about some things, I respect that. And so should you."
Some of his amusement gave way to pensiveness as he recognized the parallels to his own talks with Holly and her steadfast refusal to listen to anything that even vaguely related back to her parents and their deaths. He was making progress, he thought, in widening her frame of reference and offering her some new perspectives on what she had been taught to believe, but at even the slightest hint of the events fifteen years ago, she shut down, tuning out his words and staring blankly past him until he inevitably called their lesson to an end.
"Then what would you suggest, Holly? How would you proceed in this situation where you want to talk about something, but your conversational partner is proving… recalcitrant?" he asked slyly.
She shrugged. "He probably has his reasons; I just hope that he'll decide to talk to me when he's ready. But it would be pretty arrogant to believe that I'd get to decide when that should be."
"So… patience?" Tom asked with a barely suppressed sigh, a little tired of how often he had heard that recommended in the last few weeks.
"Having patience is usually considered a virtue, you know?" She rolled her eyes at him, doing her best to shoo him from the bedroom so that she could get dressed in privacy. "And I don't see why you would be so invested in this, anyway."
"You don't, do you?" Tom murmured when she had pushed the door closed against his back, sighing softly. "Maybe you will one day. With enough patience."
He pushed away from the door and perused the room, finding that the house-elves had already cleared away his first cup of coffee and replaced it with a full breakfast spread, including a platter of cheese sandwiches for him and the wide variety of toast, rolls, cereals, fruits and yoghurts Holly liked to partake of, depending on her mood. He sat down at the table, finished the last paragraph of the article about a special exhibit at the London Museum of Magic and then rose to his feet when Holly came out of the bedroom, fully dressed.
"Why do you do that?" she asked in slight exasperation, continuing when he arched his eyebrow in question. "Get up when I enter the room? Open the door or pull out my chair for me as if I couldn't do it myself? It's so… old-fashioned."
"The Wizarding world can be a bit behind the times, in some regards, but I find that I quite enjoy the conventions of proper etiquette," Tom explained, sliding back into his chair once she was properly seated. "It's a sign of respect – and sometimes even Dark Lords like to feel chivalrous."
She huffed a little, but her rosy lips still quirked up in amusement so he took it as a win and moved on to another subject, "So how are you feeling now? Do you think you might like to have your usual lessons today or would you prefer to just relax and take it easy?"
"I'm supposed to have Martial Arts today," she offered, gnawing on her lip in an all too distracting manner. "And I really do feel fine now, though I think I'm running a little late already so I'll have to check with Rudolphus and Rabastan if they can spare some time in the afternoon."
"I'm sure they'll be happy to accommodate you," Tom replied, rolling his eyes when she threw him a suspicious glare. "Even without my helpful interference, I promise."
"Okay then," she said, taking a careful sip of her hot cocoa and a few spoonfuls of her cereal.
But judging by the furtive looks she kept casting his way there was still something bothering her, something she had trouble vocalising. "Holly?" he asked, careful to keep any demand out of his voice. "Is there something else on your mind? You know you can always talk to me about anything."
She shook her head, in instinctive denial, then cast him another look before ducking her head down, half-mumbling in her cereal. "It's Sunday in two days."
"Ah…" Tom said, studying her bowed head, her pale fingers wrapped around the cereal bowl. "If you don't feel up to… our usual activities, I think we have two options: Either we postpone until you feel more comfortable again; or, we could adapt to the situation and maybe explore some alternatives together."
"What kind of alternatives?" she asked hesitantly.
"How descriptive do you want me to be?" Tom asked teasingly. "Because I think I have a very good chance of making you blush." He laughed when her cheeks immediately rouged. "And to think I haven't even started yet."
"Tom…" she half-warned, half-pleaded. "Please tell me what you meant."
He smiled at her, giving her hand a light squeeze. "I'm guessing – and please correct me if I came to the wrong conclusion – that you don't feel comfortable with the idea of penetrative sex whilst you're on your period?" He waited for her timid nod before continuing. "It's all right if you feel that way, Holly, and I'm glad you raised your concerns with me."
Holly nodded again, a little impatiently this time. "You still haven't answered my question."
"There're many ways of finding pleasure, being intimate, and I'd love to show them to you. So if you'd like we could try something a little different this time," Tom offered, studying her carefully. "You wouldn't even have to take off your underwear if you'd rather not and of course we won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable."
"Okay," she agreed in a whisper, though he could see her trying to hide the scepticism in her gaze and felt a twinge of something that might have been worry or annoyance. Because as much as he tried to reassure her and encourage her to voice her opinions, he suspected she still didn't feel like she had much of a choice in anything regarding their married life. He lightly squeezed her hand again, vowing to himself that he would do everything he could to make her enjoy herself this Sunday, that he would not give her any reason to regret the tentative trust she was placing in him.
§*§*§*§*§
Holly stared down at the small bottle in her hand, half empty already, her fingers wrapped so tightly around the filigree glass that they were starting to hurt, her breath coming in short, hard gasps, a hum of wild magic in the air that made the glass planes in the windows, the bottles of soap and shampoo vibrate nervously. She needed to calm down. But if she took a sip of the potion Tom would be angry at her and she couldn't deal with that, not tonight, not when…
She had managed to get through the last few Sundays, mostly by disregarding her own feelings and focusing entirely on Tom, letting him direct and use her as he pleased until it was all over and she could pretend to go to sleep. But today Tom had seemed particularly giddy, teasing her with hints and suggestions of what they could do tonight and it had become very clear to her that he expected her active participation.
There was a knock on the bathroom door, Tom's voice filtering through the wood a moment later, "Holly? Are you all right in there?"
"I'm fine," she called back, almost dropping the potions bottle when she jerked in shocked surprise.
"I'm just asking because our furniture is shaking and the lights are flashing," Tom added and she closed her eyes in despair. "Holly… may I come in, please? I don't think we should have this conversation through a closed door."
She couldn't bring out any words, but after a moment the door clicked open, either by her magic or Tom's, and the Dark Lord slipped into the bathroom, sinking down on the rim of the bathtub next to her. "What's that in your hand?"
She slowly uncurled her fingers, trying to suppress the trembles. "Calming Draught. Professor Snape gave it to me on our wedding day. But I haven't taken any of it since, I promise."
"Shh, it's okay," Tom murmured, lightly putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently against his chest. "Would you like to tell me why you thought you might need it tonight? I thought we had moved past this initial nervousness of yours…"
"I…" Holly sucked in a deep breath, clenching her hands around the small bottle again as if it could somehow steady her. "I don't know what to expect. You haven't told me and I guess…"
"I told you we wouldn't do anything that makes you uncomfortable," Tom reminded her, his voice gentle though she still heard the reproach in his words and gave a jerky nod, cramming her hands between her legs to keep them from shaking.
"I know, I'm sorry. I promise I'll be out in a minute," she whispered, bracing herself too late when Tom reached out to enfold her in his embrace and wincing violently. "I'm sorry."
"Holly…" He sighed deeply, loosening his arms and getting to his feet. "You can take a sip of the Calming Draught. I promise you won't need it, but I won't be angry if you do. And please take as much time as you need. There's absolutely no rush."
He left without waiting for her reply, something to be grateful for at least, though she didn't feel any better when she was alone again. Only more lost and scared and guilty for the disappointment she had caused. She stared down at the little glass container, wishing she had never taken it out of the drawer in the first place and yet unable to put it back just yet.
Tom had said it was okay. And it might help to calm at least some of the crashing waves of anxiety rolling through her body and her mind. But she knew he wouldn't approve and that might make everything even more awkward, even more unbearable when all she really wanted was to get through this as quickly as possible and with at least some of her dignity intact.
She closed her eyes, tried to slow her breathing and block everything else out. Simon and his mom had shown her some relaxation techniques, methods for dealing with an overload of negative feelings, and she tried to remember them now. She knew she was strong enough to get through this night, the same as she had with the ones before. Tonight couldn't be worse, surely? And anyway, she had agreed to Tom's suggestion. She hadn't wanted to postpone, hadn't wanted to have that hanging over her head, hadn't wanted to risk not fulfilling any part of the contract.
That last sobering thought gave her the strength to finally even her breathing, her fingers uncurling and her trembles subsiding to soft shivers that she could blame on the cold, if need be. She stood up, dropped the untouched potions bottle back into the drawer as she passed it and after one last fortifying breath left the bathroom without a backward glance.
The remains of their dinner had been cleared away, but the fresh bunch of flowers Tom had brought for her were still prominently displayed on the table. He had put on soft music and lit several candles, shed his robes and turned down the bed in the bedroom. She wished he hadn't gone to all that trouble, but still did her best to return his smile.
"Sorry again," she murmured, allowing him to step into her personal space, caress his hands over her arms.
"No, don't be," he reassured her, his red eyes seeming almost warm in the reflected light from the candles. "I'm glad you're feeling better."
"I didn't take the potion," she answered, even though he hadn't voiced the question.
"Thank you," he said, reaching for her hand. "And I meant it, Holly, we don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."
"No, I… I would just like to know what is going to happen," she said. "Please. I'm not a huge fan of surprises."
"Maybe I can change your mind about that someday," Tom joked. "But not right now. Right now, I thought we could take off some of our clothes – as many or as few as you would prefer – and just… touch."
"Touch?" Holly asked carefully.
"I for one would very much love to caress your arms…" He trailed his fingers up to her shoulders, then slowly stroked downwards again. "… your sides, the soft skin of your belly, your legs… Maybe I could even add some kisses, on your lips, your cheek, down your neck. How does that sound?"
"It… it doesn't sound like sex," Holly objected weakly. "Is it? I mean according to the contract?"
"For the purposes of this night, anything that brings us pleasure very much is," Tom vowed, grasping her hand again. "I can put it in writing if that would help?"
"No, you don't have to do that," Holly said, taking a deep breath. "So touching and kissing?"
"Yes," Tom replied, breathing a kiss onto the back of her hand. "And we don't have to do anything unless you feel up to it."
"Okay." She nodded, wanting to ask if there was a time limit but not finding the words to do so. "Do you…? Should I…?"
Tom smiled at her, the handsome, charming smile that Lavender and Parvati had giggled and gushed about on her wedding day, only hushing when they had noticed her pale face and starting up again as soon as they had thought her out of earshot. It always made her feel lost, alone, because he didn't look like Voldemort when he smiled, but she didn't know this other man either, didn't trust his friendly mask or warm eyes.
She ducked her head to avoid his gaze, instead reaching for the hem of her shirt and pulling it up over her head before she could think better of it. Tom's warm hands landed on her waist immediately, gently steering her through the open door to the bedroom and scooping her up on the last few steps so that he could lay her down in the middle of the bed.
"Allow me," he murmured, moving to bracket her between his arms, the heat from his body pressing her almost physically into the sheets.
That was okay, though, because it was familiar, how their Sunday nights usually began. He kissed her, his tongue swiping over the seam of her lips until she allowed him entrance, his large hands fanning out over her sides, her stomach, gliding with maddening slowness over her skin.
"So beautiful," he whispered, and that, too, was familiar, these compliments that she didn't feel she could trust. "You're perfect, my perfect little witch. Your skin is so soft and smooth, and blushes so prettily; it makes me want to kiss you all over, suck my marks onto your skin and draw lines on your body with my tongue."
And he did just that, raining kisses down on her, nibbling and suckling lightly on her skin without actually causing any bruises or other marks, licking with teasing flicks of his tongue along her neck and belly, around the swell of her breasts. There was a short intermission when Tom took off his shirt and trousers, leaving him only in a pair of black boxer briefs, as he questioningly ran his fingers over her belly, along the seam of her jeans.
"Would you like to take these off, kitten?" he suggested, grinning and pressing a kiss to her lips when she gave a timid nod.
His fingers skirted over the button and zipper of her jeans for a moment, but then, thankfully, he let up, rolling to his side so that she could undo her jeans and wriggle out of them without his interference.
"Breath-taking," Tom commented, appreciatively trailing his gaze over her body. "Come here, let me touch you."
He held out his hand to her, pulling her back underneath him and continuing the slow, sensuous exploration of her body, the meticulous conquest of every centimetre of bare skin. He was gentle as always, careful as if he thought she was something precious, as delicate and fragile as Aunt Petunia's collection of porcelain figurines, and he chuckled with dark amusement when she stretched with a soft sigh, unconsciously arching into his hold.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" he murmured, tipping her chin up to claim another kiss before cupping his hands around her breasts, teasingly flicking his thumbs across her nipples.
The sensations kept rolling through her as he continued rubbing over her nipples through the thin material of her bra, edging his fingers underneath the cups for better access. He was undulating on top of her, against her, one of his powerful thighs pressing between her legs, forcing them further apart.
She instinctively reached for something to hold onto, finding his shoulders, but immediately snapped her hands away again as if she'd been burnt.
"You can touch me, too, kitten. I'd like that," he told her, taking one of her hands and leading it to his chest, holding it there with slight pressure.
She felt the air shuddering through her as she took a deep breath, suddenly feeling cold and shivery despite the heat still emanating from his body. She should have expected this, probably, that Tom would want there to be some kind of reciprocity, that these relatively chaste touches would not be enough to satisfy him, to satisfy the terms of the contract.
"I don't know how," she whispered, hoping that Tom might have missed the slight tremor in her voice.
"Any way you'd like," Tom said with another charming grin that only became a little softer when he caught the worry on her face. "There's no wrong way, Holly, but would you like me to help?"
She nodded gratefully, following Tom's soft suggestions and mirroring the way he touched her, running her hands timidly up his sides when he did the same to her, trailing her fingers over his lightly tanned skin, feeling his strong, bunching muscles and the heat of his body.
He started rocking against her again, faster now and with more insistence, grasping one of her thighs to make her wrap it around his hips so that he could slot more firmly between her legs. She felt something in her building as he kept touching her, kissing her, rubbing against her, something unfurling and clenching inside of her, something exhilarating and almost painful.
Tom slid one hand between her legs, still using the other one to brace himself above her, and ran his fingers over the thin, soaked material of her panties, suddenly pressing down hard when he found her nub. She jerked with a small whimper she couldn't suppress, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to arch away from the too intense sensation. She heard Tom's chuckle, his fingers and thrusts gentling again.
"So responsive for me," he murmured in her ear before moving in for another kiss. "There, let me ease you through it."
She wasn't sure what "it" was, but the slow, languid strokes over her heated skin felt nice enough, reassuringly temperate after the earlier suddenly too painful, too intrusive touch. But she was still uncomfortably aware of the evidence of Tom's arousal pressing against her inner thigh, the heavy heat of it, barely contained by his underwear.
"What about..?" she asked hesitantly with a skirting glance down.
"Would you like to give me a hand?" Tom grinned at her, but didn't wait for her answer before he grasped her firmly by the hips and rolled them around so that he came to lie on his back with her sitting astride his lap. He chuckled at her deep blush, reassuringly rubbing his thumbs over her hipbones before reaching for her hand and leading it to his erection.
He gave a hiss of pleasure as soon as her fingers skirted hesitantly over the dark material, his erection throbbing and hot just underneath, straining against its clothy confines. She was almost glad when he didn't allow her time to think, to question herself and what she should do now, but instead held her steady with one hand on her hip, moved his other on top of hers to press it down against his erection and then started grinding up against her in a hard and fast rhythm, groans and hisses spilling from his lips. Holly felt a little bit useless, just sitting there, riding through Tom's thrusts, as if she was nothing more than a limp doll, a prop for him to use.
She scowled lightly and then twisted her fingers defiantly, cupping them around Tom's erection and giving him a tentative squeeze, but then startled at his loud groan of approval. "Yes, just like that," he hissed, surging up to pull her into a kiss, to pull her firmly against his chest. "Salazar, you're perfect, aren't you?"
His hands slid up and down her back, possessively squeezing her butt, and she felt emboldened, somehow, not just by his words but by the smouldering desire in his red eyes. He wanted her, and not just out of a sense of entitlement. It was a heady feeling, though also disconcerting in a way, and she turned back to the task at hand before she could think too much about it. She moved her fingers again, the angle made awkward by their changed position, giving a few more experimental strokes that Tom acknowledged with a deep, rumbling groan and a passionate kiss. And then suddenly she was touching his bare skin, velvety smooth and made slick by his come, his erection thick and long, hard and pulsing with barely contained heat.
Tom hissed again and it almost sounded like her name in Parseltongue this time, wrapping his own hand over hers, curling their fingers tighter around his flesh before he started to jerk himself off, with her help, raining feverish kisses on her lips and down her neck between deep moans and possessive hisses.
Less than a minute later, she felt his cum spurting over their joint hands, splattering over her stomach and dripping down her legs. She grimaced and Tom chuckled, relaxed and more carefree than he ever allowed himself to be, before vanishing the mess with a quick flick of his wand and tumbling her down into the sheets, gathering her in his warm, strong arms.
"I enjoyed that, kitten, I enjoyed that very much," he murmured, placing soft, lazy kisses on her neck. "I'm glad you decided to do a bit of exploring of your own."
She wasn't sure what to do with that or with the soft, lazy kisses he was breathing against her neck so she just closed her eyes. Tom sighed softly, but then transfigured her bra into one of her comfy sleep shirts with a tap of his wand and pulled the covers up around her.
"Sleep now, I know you must be tired," he murmured, placing another kiss on her forehead.
"Tom?" she asked, hesitating over what she actually wanted to say before finally settling on a simple, if incomplete truth. "Thank you."
"You're very welcome," he replied, sounding pleased again.