Author's note: Hello lovely creatures, here comes a bit of smut again (oops). I wanted to post earlier this week but my life is being so chaotic at the moment that I couldn't quite manage. I certainly won't abandon this story though, but I might have to take some more time between each chapter... Anyhow, hope you guys are doing better than I do! Thank you so much for favouriting/following this story, I am extremely grateful for the support.
October 1944 - Lord Voldemort
"I want you for my lover
I want you undercover
You're not me, you're the other
That I need
To unlock my door"
- The Jezabels
The girl cracked an eye open, closed it promptly once she caught a glimpse of the glowing moon. It was not later than eight, and yet she felt like her little catnap had been a good night sleep. She rolled on to her side, to peek at the empty chair before she noticed the gentle splashing of a shower. She pushed away the woollen blanket but the cool air made her shiver so she retrieved her lover's jumper from the couch and put it on as she dragged herself to the adjacent bathroom.
A cloud of steam enveloped her once she pushed the door open and her sleepy eyes searched for Tom. She found him in the shower, his front turned away from her sight.
It was the first time that she saw him fully bare and she observed how his alabaster skin glowed in the white light. He seemed taller than usual, too broad for where he stood, his shoulders taking all the space of the confined alcove. He was neither too slim nor too brawny, just elegantly proportionate, and she wondered what she had done to be granted such a handsome future husband.
Memories of the day came back to her, how Tom had rescued her from a disheartening afternoon after she had been the target of Nott's baiting. They had headed straight to his room afterwards, and spent the rest of the day studying until she had fallen asleep with her nose in her Transfiguration textbook.
She remembered Nott's aghast air when Tom had asked him to read an excerpt from that poetry book, the boy's face red whenever he had stumbled over a word, and Tom had simply watched him in contained anger before he had clapped his hands, thus triggering a round of applause.
As always, Annabel had been impressed by Tom's magnetism, by his innate ability at attracting people, how he had deemed important to interrupt everyone's conversations and have them listen to a seventeen-year-old read poetry. Just for her.
Oh, how gorgeous he had stood then, regal and proud as he had brought Nott to his knees.
The sudden desire to let her fingers wander on the young man's damp skin gripped her as she observed his chiseled back, how each muscle moved when he ran a hand through his hair. Tom finally turned around languidly, as if he had known she was there, but wished to put on a show.
She stood still for a while, motionless when their eyes met and slowly, with a confidence she ignored she had, she undressed. She removed his jumper, took off her skirt, each gesture unhurried until she stood naked in front of him. She blushed though, her face warm when she felt his eyes scouring her body but she did not shy away from his look, even when it lingered here or there, and when he made space for her to join him, she audaciously stepped in the shower.
"You're awake" Tom simply said once her back was pressed against the cool tiles, causing the tip of her breasts to pebble. She nodded, her head still heavy from her nap and yet she was aware of the young man's body which was close, so dangerously close to hers…
She looked up at him through her lashes and she felt him harden against her hip, irrefutable evidence that his thoughts were no less unholy. The need to touch him overpowered her and she stroked his chest in an innocent gesture until she ventured down, further down between the two of them.
Bravely she wandered, encouraged by the young man's breath that deepened as she moved.
She glanced down, marvelling at how painfully erected he stood, and part of her considered to kneel, for she knew it was a way to relieve men, and even though upsetting memories threatened to submerge her, Annabel realised in that instant that she would do anything to gladden him. She stooped, ready to take him in her mouth, but before she could even set a knee to the ground, Tom stopped her with a hold on her shoulder.
"Not yet" he whispered in her ear when she peeked at him, and her throat constricted at his withholding.
"But I want to please you" she disclosed, her voice husky before she scoured his manhood with the tips of her fingers.
He let out a faint sigh in the misty air, and she felt her womb pulsate in need.
She wished to satiate him, make him crave her, have him moan and sigh just for her to hear. Tom had been so selfless so far that she sometimes wondered if he even wanted her, and even though she knew how lucky she was to having been paired with such a generous man, part of her felt jilted by his obsessive desire to remain in control, to keep his fantasies out of reach.
She implored him with her eyes, and wrapped an uncertain hand around his shaft.
"Let me take care of you" she begged, her teeth grazing her lower lip in a lustful air when she looked at him, mesmerised by the fierce look in his eyes while he groaned and she began to work him up and down, dictating a slow but steady rhythm.
"You want to please me?" he finally asked, his tone urgent while his hand sheathed hers as he tightened her grip on his cock.
She nodded and he twitched in her hand, all aroused he was now by the girl's devotion.
"Say it" he issued and he closed his eyes, surrendering to the girl's ministration as he imposed a new motion, quick and agile around his cock.
"I want to please you"
He smiled in a feral smirk that she had never seen, and his other hand grabbed hers, placed it under his dick so she could cherish his balls while he purred in her ear.
"Tell me you're mine"
Annabel's eyes widened ever so slightly, yet she put up with his odd demand.
"I'm yours" she whispered slowly, discovering that she enjoyed the sound of those words in her mouth, and she said it again, the phrase escaping her lips before she could even notice, all intoxicated she was now by her peculiar promise.
"I'm yours, forever yours"
"Only yours" she added with dedication and Tom came, so enthralled he was by her complaisance, by how adorable he thought she was in her sincere eagerness to delight him. He let out a husky roar and discharged in long and thick spurts between their intertwined fingers.
He searched for his breath, letting go of her as she wrapped her arms around his back to bring him close, her small breasts pressed against the wet skin of his chest as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. He kissed her forehead after a while, and took a step back.
He cleared his throat in apology once he noticed the whitish spots that stained her belly, but before he could wipe away his cum, the girl was coating her digit with his seed.
He was pleasantly salty, she thought once she sucked her finger clean, and she rubbed the remnant of his semen with her hand, ready to taste some more of him but he grabbed her wrist.
"Fuck Anna" he grumbled while a playful smile showed on her lips, all proud she was to be the reason behind his felicity and Tom pinned her against the tiled wall and claimed her mouth for a passionate kiss.
—
Annabel was sprawled on his bed, her Transfiguration textbook opened on the mattress before her. The room was now steeped in a pleasant warmth and the girl had lay back there after the shower, naked if not for his jumper while he had sat back at his desk and gone back to his revising.
He was engrossed in his reading, staring at some complex diagram from his Guide to Advanced Transfiguration, his eyes following the arrows that pointed left first, and then right, indicating in which direction the practitioner should move their wand to complete the spell.
"Tom?" she asked before he heard her push aside the wool blanket.
He replied with a simple "mh?" as he kept fixing the page which he turned, but her silence had him guess that her question had nothing to do with sorcery.
"What is it?"
He finally looked at her, and she was now sitting on his bed, her back resting against the headboard, her bare legs folded against her chest.
She avoided his glance, looking at the intricate pattern of the green and silver bedspread instead.
"Did you mean it?"
"What you said earlier" she specified timidly with her eyes casted down and he frowned.
"You know…"
She flattened a fold on the bedcover with the flat of her hand.
"That thing about me being yours"
A lump grew in his throat and he stopped moving, suddenly aware of the tiniest sound in the room.
Annabel shot him a glance he could not decipher before she looked down again.
He stood still for a while, his body like stupefied despite his racing heart. He mentally cursed at himself, something he had already done in the bathroom the moment he had set a damp foot on the cotton rug, for he had promised himself that he would take it slow, and keep from sharing with her his most twisted desires…
And yet there he had been, unable to tame his corrupt mind the moment she had shown him the slightest inclination.
"Ah, forget it" she interjected with a dainty laugh that tug at his heartstrings.
He drew in a sharp breath as he watched her play with the blanket's fringes, a knotwork of filaments that proudly showed the colours of the house of Slytherin.
He closed his textbook shut and placed it on his desk before he rested an elbow on the arm of his chair. He stroked his chin pensively, his eyes grazing the girl's shrinking body while he tried to organise his thoughts.
Part of him knew that he owed her the truth, that he could only postpone such a discussion for that long, because his true nature would be brought to light eventually, and that him delaying the conversation served nothing but his own cowardice.
Yet, he found himself unable to explain, as if he had forgotten how to talk, because what words could cover the extent of the convoluted feelings he had for her?
Of course he had meant it, he found himself say out loud, his eyes suddenly turning to the side hesitantly as h wished to tell her how consumed he was at times, by the very idea of owning her, body and mind, how he sometimes day-dreamt about her being his, his only to cherish, to love and to hold.
But how? How could he express his darkest desires without risking scaring her? Annabel seemed so young at times, untried in the art of sex when he was well-versed, and he needed not think far to be sure that most people would be repelled by his fantasies, which often consisted in keeping her naked and tied, dedicated to serve him, for Tom only understood love through devotion and servitude.
A grasp on his shoulder startled him and he found Annabel on his left, an arm wrapped around his shoulders. She probed him with her grey eyes and he patted his knee so she would sit on his lap.
"What's going on in that beautiful head?" she asked in a breathy voice to lift up the mood and she poked his temple before she sat.
"Your impersonation of Slughorn is always on point"
"Right?" she giggled as she curled up against him.
"If I fail to become a healer, I'll try my luck at acting"
She rested her forehead in the crook of his neck and he could feel her hair still wet dampen his shirt. He cradled her for a while, his arms wrapped around her narrow waist, lulling her until she chimed in again.
"I quite liked it, you know" she uttered softly.
He tilted his face to meet her gaze, and the certainty he found in her eyes startled him. She had a small smile that illuminated her face, and his heart swelled at the sight of her, how beautiful she was, how lucky he was to have her.
She was his, he thought as his heart began to race and pounded wildly in his chest.
She shifted on his lap to straddle him and a playful grin appeared when her lips grazed his, her crotch pressed against his hardening cock, her chest heaving against him as she moaned.
"Tell me-" she murmured.
"What else do you like Mr. Riddle?"
And his heart constricted suddenly, for the sound of his father's cognomen was painful to his ears, and he stood up, and sat the girl on the desk before him.
"Don't ever call me that again" he issued when she glanced up at him, thighs wrapped around his hips as he stroked her cheek.
"To you-" he disclosed in her ear.
"I am Lord Voldemort"