I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy
because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless
and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.
Her frame leans into his side, so lithe and small that the presence takes a moment to register. When he looks down, the look of surprise molded into his features melts into bemusement, the corners of his eyes softening. She looks exhausted, her cheek resting on his shoulder, eyes drooping. ❝Comfortable? I know we've been at this a while...❞ he whispers, like she's on the verge of sleep. Which could be entirely possible. He glances back toward her homework, spread across the library table in an intimidating heap, honestly looking no where near finished. Feelings of guilt trickle into his thoughts and stomach for the extra long session he'd been encouraging, he only hesitates a moment before laying a comforting hand on her dark auburn hair, fingers instantly buried in the tresses. ❝--We'll just... take a break, yeah?❞ he sighs despite not really feeling any hints of annoyance. Teddy, all limbs and sharp angles leans back in his chair, gaining his own level of [ comfort ] in case she decides she'd like to s t a y there for a while.
Roksana gave a thoughtful nod as she fingered the binding of her novel absently. ❝Arthimancy? I always thought it was one of the easier one’s, just because there’s set ways of how its done and how to be correct. I don’t like the classes where the outcome is up in the air..you know? But I guess everyone has different reactions to the materiel.❞While she didn’t have to think about it, Roksana scrunched her eyebrows and hummed as if trying to think of a class she was bad at. Which was not a mystery to almost anyone.❝Potions. Without a doubt. I’m miserable at them, too much room for screwing something up. Which I inevitably do.❞Roksana made a little groan at the thought of having to study for the class and looked back down at her book. ❝Reading is much easier than revision. ❞
❝True. But see, in Arthimancy if you're wrong, you're wrong. Potions is a bit like that too. But when it's open-ended, well you're much more likely to draw a conclusion that scraps at some of the answer. I like having the chance to explain myself, you know? The other core classes, Transfiguration, Charms, it's all memorization. You practice enough and you'll eventually get it. Potions is just... way too bloody precise. It's more about patience than anything.❞ He agrees, one corner of his mouth turned up sympathetically. Curiosity winning out, Teddy reaches for the cover of her book, tilting it slightly to catch a proper glimpse of the title. ❝What could possibly be funner than studying?❞ he teases, but his brow furrows when he doesn't recognize the book.
That's just it Teddy, I /never/ cared about you. It was all just a game.
He stares, heart heavy and yet [ empty ], it stills seems to drop in a sharp motion, settling somewhere low in his stomach. ❝Roks… you— you don’t mean that.❞ His voice is low, imploring just like his eyes that search her expression desperately for an explanation. But… she does mean it. Her features hard and cruel, far removed from the softer expressions he’d come to expect and enjoy. ❝…—It was real. It was real for me. Roksana?❞ He reaches for her, his fingers barely grazing her elbow. But she jerks away so sharply he also jumps, a lump rising to his throat with the rejection.
❝Okay... okay,❞ voice thick and wavering, Teddy blinks. Everything feeling weak and his fingers begin to shake. He raises his hands in surrender, stepping backwards, giving her the space she needs and that had always been there, despite everything he'd believed. He'd been... an idiot.
{ in which lexi graces you all with smut; under the read more, of course }
It was one of those moments, electrically charged with chemistry that until a certain point had been nothing but friendly. Even familial. And then something shifts. A look. A brushing of shoulders. And really, what was the line between friendship, and the next step? Did it even really matter who’d triggered it? Him. Dom.
--One breathy laugh, faces inches apart and in the blink of an eye the distance is shattered. His lips hover over her’s, with each shaky breath their skin barely grazes the other. They’re frozen, hesitant until the moment that he or she should pull away passes. Because someone will-- won't they?
Then he’s pressing forward, the indiscretion complete as skin meets in heated bliss. He pushes, leading her towards the a chilly corridor wall while his fingers entangle themselves in the fine hair at the nape of her neck. It's not so gentle. Each moment ticking by in blurred but definitive movements. Her nails sharply pricking through the roots of dark blue roots, then shifting to dig into his shoulder blades. To draw him closer.
Wait-- Vic would hate him. Or Dom would. Or both.
Stop. T h i n k i n g.
Because she's gasping into his mouth, ripping at the material of his shirt while their legs entwine, stumbling towards the nearest door. Desperate for p r i v a c y. Their bodies crash heavily into the stones of the wall, Teddy chuckles into her smiling mouth his hand curling around her waist to stop there descent all the way to the floor. Dom reaches around him, fumbling with the door handle between fits of laughter. It's a classroom after hours, thank Merlin. Completely empty and likely to stay that way until morning.
Papers flutter to the floor as they claim the desk, his form a protective weight as she lays back onto the wood.
-- It's so wrong.
His fingers splayed beneath the hem of her shirt, caressing the sensitive skin of her curves.
Her thin legs hooking over his hips, drawing him closer as if he would need the encouragement.
Stop-- but the thought is lost as her teeth scrap over his bottom lip. A sweet pain that spears through his veins and curls up somewhere behind his navel. It elicits a consuming moan that obliterates their surroundings, any lingering doubts or hesitations, until they are only craving animals, moving through languid and age-old movements.
His fingers fumble with the edge of her knickers, drawing them down her thighs while she scrambles with his belt, jerking his pants until immediate barriers are vanquished.
Because he can't wait, and neither can she, kicking aside clothing like a nuisance while her hands caress every bit of skin they can get at.
A break, a pause. The he moves, shifting into a position, his fingers brush through her hair as he slowly presses himself inside her, moving at a languorous pace, her body tight and warm around him. His eyes close as his muscles quiver with sweet pleasure, a long moan thrumming over his throat and past his lips and falling into her open mouth. He presses himself deeper, the motion of his hips becoming progressively faster as her body naturally adjusts to receive him.
He rolls his hips, his head shifting away from her swollen lips to gasp hot air along the smooth skin of her shoulder, allowing both of them a second to adjust to the closeness of their heated forms. His mouth brushes over the skin of her neck, gently, contrasting with the movements of their melded lower halves as his hips move away from her, this time faster. Their bodies moving as one, he slips into a rhythm each thrust becoming smoother and quicker.
The muscles in his stomach tighten, waves of enjoyment radiating throughout him. Her body seems to be contracting in near perfect rhythm with his, each stroke sending a stronger wave of bliss through his nerves. He glances down and meets her striking gaze, a ripple of desire spreading down his back as he drinks in her expression.
--Dom. His forehead drops to press against her’s, the tips of their noses barely brushing, his lips hovering centimeters over her gasping, bruised mouth. His pelvis thrusts upwards into her and he gasps, shutting his eyes and blocking out the dark pools of her eyes to enjoy the feeling of her body encompassing him. Her muscles clench, her back arching and her gaze growing distant. Need and want fuel his actions and with quick fingers, he hitches his hand beneath the curve of her knee, the other shifting to grasp the back of her neck. Craving to cling to s o m e t h i n g while his own body convulses, spurned on by the prick of her lithe fingers pressing into his back.
Their motion, which had only seconds before been urgent and violent slowly shifts into shallow gasps for breath, bodies disentangling and gazes altering from longing to stunned embarrassment.
❝-Dom, I--❞ But she's already drawing away, her expression curiously tightened into confusion, a perfect reflection of his own. Until the look is gone.
❝Fuck, Teddy. Don't look at me so seriously. It was just a shag.❞ Her hand slaps his shoulder while she moves away to struggle with her discarded knickers, but her eyes avoid his. Easily disguising that her smile hasn't quite reached the rest of her features.
---Fuck. Teddy watches her leave, the first signs of panic attacking now that the hormones have cleared and he can process what he's done.
❝That makes me sound a bit boring. I’ve just gotten used to a certain … lifestyle and am not the best around a lot of commotion. I’m too curious. ❞ Too curious, too much, too this, too that — never what her parents w a n t e d her to be. Besides, keeping a hold on ones emotions required a certain level of introverted-ness. Not that Clara minds, she’s able to make up her own world and enjoy it as long as she’s got the proper materials. Even then.
She watches as he smiles and she has to ask, ❝Are you laughing at me? I’m not judging them, I just don’t appreciate when certain people try to force alcohol down my throat. And I mean that literally.❞ Her cousin Gisele never let her off easy, not once in the history of their lives. ❝ I suppose you’re right, talking isn’t nothing. And are you asking me to dance? What kind of dancing? And I’ve got ruby slippers, being Dorothy and all. ❞
❝Your words, not mine. But no-- no, it's fine! Drinking is supposed to be fun, not the sole source of it. You don't really need to be drunk to have a great time, despite what a lot of people here seem to think.❞ He glances at their surroundings, again. Slightly perturbed by the number of alcoholics amongst the group of teenagers.
❝Laughing at you? No. Would you believe me if I told you that's just my permanent setting? Amused and/or cheerful?❞ It wasn't the [ absolute ] truth, but it was better than her thinking he was laughing at her rather than himself. Explaining rendezvouz (plural) seemed to be touching on things a tad too personal for a poor fifth year anyways. ❝Awkward hip swaying. Full blown waltzing. The cha-cha. I'll most likely be terrible at any of them. I'm warning you, I'm dangerous,❞ he nods gravely, studying her sparkling, not particularly tough, shoes with concern. ❝Of course, it could be a good opportunity to practice those NEWT level healing spells. Are you convinced yet?❞
❝Teddy- Honestly, it looks like you’ve made a night of it.❞ Even with her protest she could tell he was going to be nice and let her stay. So she shot him a look of confusion, but awkwardly sat down where he had made room.Roksy did of course feel slightly guilty for intruding on his night and busied herself with pulling out her book ❝ Oh I think every time is the right time to worry honestly, the professors are completely unforgiving. Any classes your hoping will forget to hand out tests?❞
❝—No point in only going half-arsed, remember.❞ The shrug and soft smirk he delivers make it less of a question. He watches her pull out her book before gently tapping his wand on the rim of the goblet, there's no real intention of magic behind the movement just thoughtful silence to her question. ❝Perhaps Arthimancy, since it's one of the more difficult ones.❞ He nodded sympathetically, although he rather liked learning, and couldn't ever really mind the homework. Teddy couldn't seem to put any honest complaint into schoolwork, since he rather hoped to be on the other side of things in the future. ❝You can't be so worried, can you? Since you're reading instead of studying,❞ he questions, glancing at her book to catch a glimpse of the title. Not trying to be nosy, but succeeding anyways.
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