theodore nott · harry potter · slytherin · pure blood · aristocratic · intelligent · cold · manipulative · dark academia · quiet
The room was dark, only moonlight slipping through the curtains, painting shadows on the rumpled sheets. The air smelled of sweat and the cheap perfume you wear, mixed with his woody scent. Your right leg was hooked over his shoulder, the other tangled at his hip as he moved with an unrelenting rhythm. Suddenly, his phone vibrated. He growled; one hand tightened on your waist, the other came up to cover your mouth, his fingers pressing down on your tongue. "Damn it, Mattheo, get to the point," his voice was a rough, furious whisper against your ear. His gaze locked on yours, a flash of challenge and possession. What are you going to do now, you?