summary: (includes smut) you and theodore have been friends since 4th year, and are like peas in a pod. there's nothing that can separate the two of you. so when theodore becomes increasingly jealous at the attention you're receiving after your glow-up the summer before 7th year, he decides he needs to take matters into his own hands.
authors note: i lowkey hate this i can't lie... but i really just wanna get all of my stuff out since i'm not going to be able to write NEARLY as much for essentially the whole summer :( anyway hope u all enjoy this!
Everyone knew Theodore Nott was good-looking, in that effortless way where he never had to try to get other peopleâs attention and affections. Even so, he never let his ego swell, and never really paid attention to his or other peopleâs looks. He gave his hair a good tousle in the mornings, and that was that. He just assumed thatâs what everyone else did. When his friends would rank girls in their year from prettiest to ugliest, Theodore could never give his opinion. He didnât have one. He simply just never thought about those sorts of things.
Most people were surprised when the two of you became friends in 4th year. You werenât ugly, no, but letâs just say you werenât exactly a head turner. But none of that mattered to Theodore. Thatâs why your friendship with him was so refreshing. He understood you on a level that no one else did, because he saw who you were past your physical features that everyone else saw as unflattering or as flaws. He appreciated you for your humor and wit, the way you read peopleâs emotions easily, how you can turn any bad situation into a good one from sheer mindset alone. You were more of a side character to the rest of the world who viewed him as the main one, but the two of you were best friends, and that was all you guys needed.
The summer before you and Theodoreâs last year at Hogwarts changed everything. Theodore had spent his summer with family in Italy, as he always did. But you were in for a change. Instead of heading to London like you did every summer, you and your girlfriends took a trip to visit the beaches of France. London was always awfully dreary and bleak, so imagine everyoneâs surprise when you came back to Hogwarts looking tanner and⊠different. Very different.
Your personality remained the same, your carefree spirit still shining through. Your laugh, your friends, your brain, all worked the same. But everything about you, physically was different. You knew something was different immediately when Mattheo, Theodoreâs best mate, actually asked you how your summer went when you met up with them in the train car on the way to Hogwarts. You almost choked on your water when he acknowledged your existence seemingly for the first time in the 3 years you had known him.
It was just a few weeks into the school year, and you were already receiving a bountiful amount of attention from boys. Boys, who in previous years had either ignored you or avoided you. Suddenly, everyone wanted to be your Potions partner. Everyone wanted to talk to you during meals in the Great Hall. Even girls were trying to recruit you into their social circles, acting like they were close with you or like they had been friends with you since forever. You didnât mind the attention, no, but Theodore did. He hated it.
He knew it was selfish, but he had always thought of you as his best friend, and his best friend only. Even though he had a line of people waiting to be his friend (or more), he couldnât stand the thought of you replacing him with someone funnier, more interesting, more deserving to be your best friend. He hated himself for every punch he felt in his gut when you smiled at another girl or waved at another boy. He hated himself even more for how weak he felt, and how he had no power to stop it.
But most of all, he hated himself for falling victim to this new charm of yours. He hated himself for noticing when your smile would linger on him, when your crinkled eyes would shine as they looked at him. He hated himself for watching you from across the room, just like every other bloke was now doing. He hated himself for not being able to control the blush that lingered on his cheeks every time your hand grazed his forearm or your foot touched his under a table. Theodore felt like he was losing his mind.
He knew he was bound to break, at one point or another. This tipping point just happened to be after the opening quidditch match of the season. Slytherin lost to Hufflepuff, out of all houses, which had only rubbed salt in the wound for Theodore. He had spent almost every second of the game focusing more on making sure his facial expressions didnât look weird to you instead of catching the actual snitch. Of course, everything that he wanted to go right went wrong, and he ended up almost face-planting into the grass a multitude of times. After the match, he was absolutely pissed, mud stains everywhere and a clear look of frustration painted across his face. All he wanted was to see you and talk to you. So when he found you casually chatting with a Hufflepuff whoâs face looked way too smug in Theodoreâs opinion, he swore he couldâve exploded with anger. He wanted nothing more than to punch that smirk off of the Hufflepuffâs face. That would teach him a lesson.
âHey,â Theodore murmurs from behind you right beside your ear, his glare fixed on the Hufflepuff as a sort of silent threat. You touch her, youâre dead.
âTheo!â you jump, startled as you turn your head around to look at him. âWhere the hell did you come from?â
âWe need to talk,â Theodore says simply, paying no regard to your question at all, turning all of his attention towards you. The Hufflepuff opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Theodoreâs hand is on your arm, dragging you away firmly, your steps stumbling before eventually falling into rhythm next to his.
Theodore eventually drags you into the locker room, and you immediately shut your eyes, afraid of seeing something you shouldnât. âTheo- I canât be in here-â
âWho was that?â Theodore interrupts sharply, disrupting your train of thought. âAnd open your eyes. Thereâs no one here. The match ended ages ago,â he says bitterly, as if all of the time he had spent looking for you was somehow your fault.
You follow his command, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. âOw- Theo!â you exclaim after yanking your arm out of his grasp. âMerlin, heâs just some guy I met in Potions. What has gotten into you?â As soon as the words fall from your lips, you start to notice his weariness, how taught his body stance is, and the dirt stains all over his uniform. Your heart starts to feel heavy with sympathy, but the moment is quickly broken.
âJust some guy?â Theodore repeats your words dryly, his voice laced with sarcasm. âHe was looking at you like you were some piece of meat.â He rakes a hand through his damp hair, messy from flying, and exhales sharply. An Italian curse slips out from under his breath: âStronzo.â
âLook,â he mutters, suddenly avoiding your eyes. âI donât care who talks to you or whatever, but donât just stand there smiling at them like that.â
Your eyes narrow, and you start to get defensive. âSince when do you dictate my choices?â you shoot back, feeling utterly confused by his difference in behavior. Theodore stiffens at your words, his dark eyes flashing with some emotion that you canât quite nameâhurt? Frustration? You can tell he doesn't like the tone in your voice. Not one bit.
âIâm not dictating anything,â he snaps, but it lacks its usual edge. âI just⊠fuck, bambinaâŠâ His tone makes you feel weak in the knees, your hand subconsciously grabbing his wrist to support him. He drags a hand down his face, exhaling hard through gritted teeth. Seemingly for once, Theodore, the guy who always has a snarky comeback or cold dismissal ready, is struggling to find words. âSince when do you let random people talk to you like that?â It comes out more vulnerable than intended, possessive without him meaning it to be.
âPeople just come up to me,â you answer defensively, crossing your arms over your chest as if ready to start a fight with him. âI donât know. Youâre the one whoâs the expert on this kind of stuff.â
âOh, donât start,â Theodore mutters, his voice tighter than he intended. He forces himself to breathe, to catch his breath, to chill the fuck out. The way you crossed your arms with a protective and guarded stance, because of him, made an ugly feeling twist in his stomach. âMerlin, everyone is noticing now.â He seems to finally look at you properly, his dark eyes looking into yours. He has new freckles on his face now, probably from summer days in Italy that you hadnât been a part of. It mildly irritates you, that even just standing there, pissed off, he looks unfairly good. Your throat goes dry.
âItâs just⊠weird,â is all Theodore can manage to say. This isnât even about the Hufflepuff anymore.
âI think itâs weird too,â you say slowly, not really seeing where Theodore was trying to go with this. âBut, itâs not like it changes anything between us. Right?â
It hits him then, as he looks at your clueless expression, that you havenât changed at all, even with the new attention. It hits him like a bludger to the chest: you have no idea. No idea that heâd been watching. Noticing. Wanting.
âNo,â he says a little too quickly, a little too stiff. âOf course not.â Yet, his eyes betray him. Dark and stormy with something unspoken as they flick over your face one more time before darting away again to the wall behind you. You awkwardly shift from one foot to the other, not really knowing what to say. This is uncharted territory for youâit had never been awkward with Theodore before. Even though you had both literally just agreed that nothing had changed, it feels like something has. You can tell that Theodore noticed the shift to awkwardness and hesitation as well, and that just made you feel even worse. This quiet tension between you two is completely foreign. Youâve never felt uncomfortable or cautious around him before, or second-guessed words or silences.
Theodore clears his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets. âWanna smoke?â he blurts out suddenly, jerking his chin toward the exit. You stifle a laugh, nodding a yes, and a tiny, relieved smirk tugs at his mouth. Typical Theodore, breaking the silence by asking for a smoke break. Although it did make the moment feel less gauche and more natural. âLet me get out of my uniform real quick.â
Once Theodore is wearing his robes, the two of you walk to your usual nookâa dimly lit alcove half-hidden by a stone arch. Theodore leans against the wall, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offering you one first. You hold the cigarette between your fingers and between your lips, leaning slightly forward so Theodore can light you up. The small flame that emits from his silver lighter casts shadows across his sharp features, and you canât help but notice the haunting sort of beauty that he possesses. The routine feels familiar, safe. Something the two of you have done countless times before. You havenât told a soul, but these memories of smoking with Theodore in the oddest places are some of your most cherished ones.
After Theodore lights his own cigarette, he takes a deep drag before exhaling smoke through slightly parted lips. For a second, the two of you just stand there, silent but comfortable again, the tension from earlier easing with each shared breath.
âSo, do you want to talk about the shit show of the match you just had, or no?â you ask calmly, watching and waiting for his reaction through the smoke. He only scoffs, rolling his eyes, but it lacks real annoyance. Itâs akin to exhausted resignation.
âFuck no,â he mutters, tapping ash onto the stone floor. âI swear, my broom was possessed by some spiteful pixie or something.â He takes another drag before adding dryly, âDraco cheered so hard when I almost ate shit in mid-air.â The mental image of Draco laughing at Theodore makes you giggle. Or maybe it was just the nicotine in your bloodstream now. âBloody stupid move, too. I shouldâve just stuck to basic formations.â
You shrug. âTaking risks is fine. Iâm sure youâll do great next time. Malfoyâs a bitch, anyway.â Theodore snorts at that, smoke curling around the two of you as he smirks at your bluntness. Merlin, have you missed this. Talking to Theodore about everything and nothing, feeling completely at ease with him.
âSĂŹ, absolutely,â he agrees, taking another lazy drag. âDracoâs got the personality of a moldy sock.â His insult makes you chuckle, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you start to concentrate on blowing rings with the smoke of your cigarette. Theodore watches you, mesmerized, as your rings curl and float between the two of you like ghostly hoops. Itâs stupid. So stupid. But thereâs something oddly comforting about this situationâthe quiet shared smoke, the way your fingers hold the cigarette so gracefully and with practiced ease. It all makes his stomach do a traitorous little flip.
He quickly looks away before his thoughts can take root any further. âShow off,â he mutters instead of grabbing your body closer to his to kiss you senseless, which is what he really wants to do.
âYouâre the one who taught me that, idiot,â you murmur, smiling up at him through your hooded eyes. Theodoreâs breath hitches as he realizes how close the two of you really are, almost touching, and suddenly, the small space between the two of you feels charged.
âOh, did I now?â Theodore plays dumb, but his voice comes out lower than intended. Rough around the edges. His words along with the teasing lilt in his voice make you subconsciously press your thighs together. He shifts slightly, accidentally-on-purpose closing that last inch so that his chest presses lightly against yours. You can feel his warmth through his robes. Merlin, this is dangerous. How can something as simple as leaning on each other feel like foreplay?
âYou did,â you retort, swatting his shoulder gently with your free hand. âDonât play dumb.â Theodore lets out a quiet huff of laughter, caught, yet he doesnât bother to deny it. Instead, he just stays there, close to you, smoke curling into the air between you two like lazy whispers. Itâs nice. Maybe even too nice. The kind of peace that makes your chest ache because it feels different now, the familiarity tangled up with something new and terrifyingly fragile.
Theodore takes one last drag before discarding the butt of his cigarette, his dark eyes fixed on your lips as you take another puff. âWanna ditch dinner?â he murmurs, one hand moving to tuck a stray curl of hair behind your ear. His touch is so soft it makes your heart stutter. âIâve got firewhisky in my dorm.â
You chuckle, shaking your head at his antics. âYouâre just trying to avoid your friends so they canât make fun of how badly you played today,â you tease softly.
âMaybe,â he admits shamelessly, nudging you softly. âMattheo wouldnât shut up about it. Called me âDisastro Nottâ twice already.â He plucks your finished cigarette from your fingertips, discarding it the same way he did his own. He has this habit of always finishing what you started, which you honestly find endearing. âPlus, Iâd rather be with you anyway,â he adds, quieter now.
A cheeky smile adorns your face, his small confession making your heart swell. Despite all of the attention youâre getting from others lately, you still only glow under Theodoreâs recognition and no one else's. âLetâs go then?â you say softly, interlocking your pinky with his, a habit you canât seem to break since forming it sometime during 4th year when Theodore had to drag you away from a stray Puffskein that you wanted to smuggle back into Hogwarts and keep as a pet.
âLetâs go,â he responds, already turning to lead the way. The two of you walk close together, no rush or pretenses, your arm brushing against his with every step toward the dungeons. Just the usual flowy chatter that you will never tire of.
Once you step inside his dorm room, Theodore kicks the door shut behind you. His area of the room is typically messy, with clothes strewn over his chair, a half-empty bottle of cologne sitting on his desk, posters for Italian football teams peeling at the corners off the wall. Stepping into his space is like seeing all the layers of him, unfiltered and laid out. You always feel honored every time youâre let in to see something so personal.
He beelines straight for the small trunk under his bed where he kept most of his prohibited items, pulling out a bottle of amber firewhisky for the two of you to share. âCome here,â he mutters, and of course you follow without hesitation, sitting down next to him on his bed. You watch him twist off the cork with practiced ease, your gaze intense as he takes a swig straight from the bottle. âNo glasses. Weâll have to drink like this.â
âFine with me.â You take the bottle from him, taking a sip and wincing as the liquor slides down and burns your throat. âSo, do you sneak girls into your dorm to do this often, or what?â You hand the bottle back to him, taking off your outer robe and throwing it somewhere across the room, the alcohol and your vicinity to Theodore making you feel warm. His gaze flickers to your legs, your skirt hiding close to nothing, and he quickly looks away, his throat bobbing with a controlled restraint.
Theodore scoffs at your words, as if theyâre the stupidest thing heâs ever heard. Though, itâs not even a weird question to ask. Everyone knows that Theodore is nothing short of a ladies man. He has women fawning at his feet, waiting at his beck and call at any hour of the day. But heâs never paid attention to them before. He only pays attention to you. âThis shit is for me and Mattheo. Occasionally Pansy if she needs a pick-me-up.â
Pansy. Her name makes your heart twist uncomfortably in your chest, yet you avoid dwelling on it. You hate the thought that Theodore might prefer other girls over you. But thatâs just because heâs your best friend. Right?
You take the bottle as he hands it back to you, taking a larger swig this time. Swallowing is a challenge. Theodore moves to lean against the headboard of his bed, his long legs stretching out behind you as you sit on the edge of the bed. He watches you drink, and notices everything. The way your throat bobs as you swallow, how your nose scrunches slightly at the burn.
âYou alright?â He asks quietly, not about Pansy, but about this. About sitting so close on his bed like it was normal when everything felt anything but. You bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something youâll regret later.
âI just⊠I mean, maybe itâs just me. But donât we feel, like, disconnected lately?â Theodore watches you turn your gaze around to him, and the thought of him being so wrapped up in his own stupid jealousy, noticing everyone else looking at you, that he hasnât even considered how you might feel, makes him sick. He grabs the bottle from your hands, placing it down on the nightstand next to his bed, before he gestures you over. He contracts a leg so that you can move to sit in between them, setting it down again once youâre in the middle.
âYeah,â he admits roughly. âWe do.â One of his hands grabs your wrist gently to rub his thumb over your pulse point, as a soothing gesture. Your heart is beating fast.
âDo youâ I mean, do you notâŠâ you hesitate, not sure how to articulate your words properly without sounding like an insecure girlfriend. âDo you not like me anymore? Do you not want to be as close?â
Theodoreâs facial expression twists, as if he canât even fathom your words ever being true. âNo,â he says fiercely, a bit too loud and immediate. Then, quieter, with his jaw clenched, âMerlin, itâs the opposite. IâmâŠâ he trails off, fingers flexing uselessly against the bed sheets, his grip on your wrist tightening ever so slightly, as if he never wants to let go. How can he put this into words? That heâs been losing his mind over how hot youâve gotten? That every guy looking at you made him want to punch something?
Instead of explaining, he speaks simply. Truly. âI miss us.â
You look down at where his hand is holding your wrist so tenderly, and you get the sudden urge to throw yourself onto him. It was definitely a bad decision on your part to mix your substances. Your thoughts are running wild, and you feel like you canât control them. âI do too,â you whisper, feeling shy all of a sudden as you start to pick at the sheets under you with your free hand.
Theodore reaches out without thinking, calloused fingers under your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his eyes. âLook at me,â he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. It lingers there for half a second too long to be considered casual, before dropping his hand like you burned him.
You tilt your head to the side, a clear look of confusion painted on your face. âAre you drunk or something?â Theodore lets out a short, breathless laugh.
âAfter a few sips? No, tesoro. Iâm just⊠fuck.â He rakes a hand through his hair, his eyes finally meeting yours again. âI just missed this. Missed you. All summer.â
You canât help yourself as you lean into him, settling into the familiar warmth of his body, his arm instinctually wrapping around your figure as you lean your head on his shoulder. You want to blame your behavior on the alcohol, on the nicotine, but deep down you know that this is your desire, your choice. âI missed you all summer too. I wanted to be in Italy with you.â
âShouldâve brought you,â he mutters into your hair, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.â
âI wouldâve loved that,â you whisper, fully committing to your act as he helps you settle on his lap by putting your side onto his chest, the firewhisky burning a pit in your stomach and definitely giving you more confidence than usual. It feels painfully natural, the physical closeness between the two of you.
âSei cosĂŹ bella,â Theodore whispers into your hair, his other hand tracing slow circles on your hip, his touches igniting a fire across your body, pooling low in your stomach.
âTranslation, per favore,â you mumble, utilizing a phrase that Theodore had taught you years ago when you asked to learn parts of his native language. Your request made Theodore feel like the happiest man on the planet, but it also surprised him that it was possible for someone to care about him and understand him so deeply to the point of trying to learn something that he held close to his heart. He adores the fact that you remember.
You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his natural scent making you feel woozy. âYouâre drunk,â he says in a stupidly fond voice, your closeness completely short-circuiting his brain. âYouâre so cute when you speak Italian.â His fingers trail up to tangle gently in your hair, just playing with the strands. This whole scene is so fucking domestic it makes his chest ache.
âShut up.â A warm blush climbs up the back of your neck, and you hide your face in his shirt. âDonât make fun of me. Iâm trying.â You can feel the rumble of Theodoreâs chest as he laughs, deep and warm.
âNever,â he murmurs, stroking your head softly, caressing you as if you were some sort of pet. He isnât making fun of you; if anything, itâs the opposite. The way youâre trying so hard for him sends a dose of pure joy straight through his heart.
âSo what did you do all summer?â You ask, lifting your head off of his shoulder to be able to look at him, your hands on either side of him to prop yourself up. âForget about me?â You canât help but lean in subconsciously, your desire to be closer to him only heightened by the liquid courage coursing through your body.
You can feel Theodoreâs entire body locking up the second your eyes met his, an almost pained look painted on his face. âOf course not,â he says softly, and you can feel yourself drowning in his eyes, in his presence, almost losing yourself in the process. âI thought about you every day, amorina, you know that.â You and Theodore had written to each other all summer, as the two of you always did every year. His letters detailed his adventures with his family, to what kind of snack he had on a random hike. But he never failed to mention how badly he missed you. It was your favorite part of each letter heâd write.
âThen why didnât you tell me to come?â you huff, rubbing your eye with one of your hands, fighting the urge to yawn all of a sudden. Being with Theodore always made you feel safe, and therefore, sleepy. âFrance got boring after a while.â
âI didnât think you were missing me like that,â he admits, his own hand brushing your cheek reverently. His tone has an air of vulnerability to it, as if heâs unsure of your affections. The tension is palpable; you can practically feel its presence physically straining between the two of you, your bodies pulling each other in like magnets. It feels impossible to stop yourself from wanting to be close to him, from wanting him to pay attention to you. At the end of the day, even with all of the new affections youâve been receiving from others, youâd give it all up in a second just for Theodore to stay your best friend.
âSo youâre admitting in person that you missed me, then?â You canât help but tease him, feeling the weight of his words physically manifesting on your face in the form of a blush. Theodoreâs eyes glint in the light, his smile deepening into a smirk as he grabs your hips, his thumbs tracing the skin under your shirt, giving you goosebumps on your arms.
âOf course. I missed you a lot. Every day. Iâll never be ashamed to admit that.â His voice is low, the look in his eyes scarily real and unguarded, as if heâs baring his heart out for you to do whatever you want with it. The atmosphere turns even more tense, even more charged, and you can feel your heart about to beat out of your chest. This closeness isnât exactly newâthe two of you had cuddled before, shared tiny spaces together, teased each other for years. But this energy was unlike anything you have experienced before, with him and in your life in general.
You whisper Theodoreâs name softly, heart pounding as you watch him watch you with wide eyes. âAre you okay?â You can feel his chest quickly rising and falling, a sharp exhale through his nose at the sound of his name on your lips.
âNo,â he confesses, voice gravelly. He lowers his head slightly, chest pressing against yours as one of his hands cradles your jaw. âIâm not okay.â His nose nudges your cheek, his hot breath trailing down your neck sending shivers down your spine. âI want you.â
âYou have me,â you reply innocently, your mind not able to catch up to the pace in which Theodore was now setting for your relationship. âYou always have. Since fourth year.â
Theodoreâs breath catches, because until now, he hadnât realized that âhaving youâ could mean this. That âhaving youâ could involve his hips grinding softly against yours, his lips grazing your jawline, his eyes drinking in this vulnerable side of you that no one else was ever able to see, that your shared history didnât need to stop at the occasional smoking rendezvous, or studying in the library, or you cheering him on at quidditch matches.
âYou shouldnât say things like that,â he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the spot behind your ear, inhaling your vanilla scent that was seemingly always stuck in your hair, feeling absolutely drunk off the high your presence is providing. âItâs making me crazy.â
âWell, itâs true, isnât it?â you whisper breathlessly, boldly, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips touch your skin, your hands helplessly gripping his forearms. Youâre not sure if you should push him away. You donât want to.
âSo, youâre admitting youâre mine, then?â He moves to be eye-level with you, and you can feel his long lashes fluttering against your cheekbones, his nose nudging against yours. The golden specks in his eyes shimmer in the warm lighting, and you swear you can melt right then and there, the endless abyss of his irises pulling you into the point of no escape.
Before you can even come up with a response that isnât I love you so much it hurts, Theodore gingerly, hesitantly, presses his lips to the corner of your mouth. His eyes are open, watching your reaction, a silent question of if this is okay, if this is crossing any boundaries, and you have to stay calm, pretending like this isnât what youâve been praying for since you were 14.
But his lips also bring you back to Earth. What was this? Theodore Nott? Your best friend? Kissing you? Youâre stuck in this state of shock where youâre unable to kiss him back but also unable to shove him away. Theodore can feel your hesitation the second his lips half-meet yours, and he breaks the almost-kiss just as fast as he initiates it, his forehead moving to rest against yours.
âIâm sorry,â he murmurs. âToo much?â Theodoreâs whole body is tense with restraint now, giving you every chance to push him away. But Merlin is he hoping that you donât. Heâd dreamt about this.
Your eyebrows furrow with anxiety, your teeth chewing on your bottom lip to try and calm yourself. You look deep in thought. âAre you just, like, taking advantage of this situation? Because Iâm here?â Your voice cracks. You canât help it. This onslaught of emotions has taken you more off guard than you were prepared for. âIs this all I mean to you? Just an easy hookup? And then we can just forget about it or something?â
Theodore recoils from you like youâve slapped him. âNo,â he replies immediately, his voice sharp with offense. âFuck no.â He removes his body from yours entirely, sitting up on the edge of the bed with his back towards you, as if he canât even bear to look at you after what you just said, running both hands down his face. âAmore⊠Dio, Iâve liked you. For months. This isnâtââ a frustrated growl escapes him. âThis isnât some random shit.â
You immediately follow him, sitting up on the bed next to him, propping yourself up with your hands behind your back. âI⊠I donât understand, Theo. I thought that weâre⊠best friends.â He turns to look at you, his expression wrecked, equal parts frustration and exposed.
âWe are. Fuck, thatâs the whole problem.â He scrubs a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. âI want to stay your best friend, but I also want to kiss you with everything I have in me. I donâtââ another rough pause. âI donât know how to do both.â
You slowly crawl towards him, your hands eventually making their way into his lap, your body propped up on your knees. âLetâs just try,â you whisper almost helplessly. Youâre going through the same dilemma as him; itâs not like you want to change your dynamic, exactly, but the physical pull you feel towards him is undeniable, your need and desire for him overcoming any rational thought. Youâve always felt this pull towards Theodore, loving his attention and loving his touch. What would the harm be in seeing where things go, if things would turn into something more?
Theodoreâs hands hover uncertainly at your hips, wanting to touch but needing permission first. âYes,â he whispers back with no hesitation, leaning in slowly. âWe can⊠try.â Then, his lips meet yours againâsofter now, more exploratory. A test run of something that could either ruin or change everything.
You sigh softly into the kiss, tilting your head to deepen it. You shudder when Theodoreâs hands land on your waist, steadying you by pulling you into his lap again, your legs straddling him. You can hear your heartbeat loudly in your ears, and you feel almost lightheaded because of how giddy you are that this is finally happening. This is definitely uncharted territory for you; youâve only ever kissed one other boy before, back in 5th year, and it was a total shit show. But kissing your best friend? It feels so good, and so right.
Theodore groans into your mouth as you deepen the kiss, his grip on you tightening and pulling you flush against him as he drinks in everyone one of your shaky breaths, all of your tiny shudders. It all goes straight to his already hard cock, the one you can feel under your skirt between your legs. You feel absolutely not in control of yourself, your body taking the lead as you helplessly grind onto him.
âYou taste sweet,â he mutters in between kisses, sliding one hand to cradle the back of your neck and angling for better access like this was something the two of you had been doing forever, something familiar and normal. You can only whine as he kisses you, his nimble hands gracefully undoing your tie, throwing it somewhere before slowly unbuttoning your shirt, exposing your pink bra. âMatches the color of your cheeks,â he teases, eyes darkening as he drinks in the sight of a part of you heâs never seen before. âYouâre so beautiful.â His hands slide up your bare stomach, calloused thumbs brushing over the laceâteasing, but not rushing, every touch of his extremely deliberate.
âTheo,â you whimper, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to ease the tension you were feeling, your hips subconsciously jumping slightly. âDonât tease.â
âCanât help it. Youâre too pretty to not be toyed with,â he mutters, palming your right breast through the lace. His thumb circles your nipple, teasing the hard peak as his other hand slips under the fabric to pinch it directly. You can feel his cock strained against his sweats beneath you, and you canât help but moan at all of the sensations mixing together, your hands squeezing on the area between his shoulders and neck.
âYouâre so sensitive,â he murmurs, eyes blown wide in admiration, drinking in every sound you make and every tiny twitch. Theodore can feel your tension, the way you jump at every touch, the tight clench of your body. âYouâve never been touched like this before, have you?â The question makes you blush with embarrassment, but the feeling quickly subsides as he kisses you gently, reassuringly. âTell me what feels good,â he whispers against your lips. âPlease, bambina? Let me make you feel good. Let me make you feel things youâll never be able to feel with any other man.â
Fuck. Your pussy clenches around nothing, your head in the clouds as you nod helplessly, because if he didnât touch you more and now you feel like you might die. âIt feels so good,â is the only response you can give, whining every time his fingers flick your nipple or massage your breast in his hand. Theodoreâs chest swells with pride and the dangerous urge to ruin you so fucking good.
âBrava, my good girl,â he praises softly, before dipping his head to replace his fingers with his mouth. His tongue swipes over your nipple, his hand pulling the lace to the side before sucking hard, one hand still working your other breast. You gasp at the new sensation, and you canât stop yourself from grinding even harder onto him, desperate for friction, the pleasure filling your senses. Every moan and movement that he elicits from you goes straight to his aching cock, so hard itâs physically hurting him. You didnât even know it was possible to feel like this. To feel so good you could pass out.
Every rut of your hips against his throbbing cock makes him groan, the feeling of your wet heat through fabric almost too much to bear. âDio, you feel that?â he rasps, lifting his head to watch you unravel. Your skin is damp from his mouth, glistening in the light, your nipples peaked and pretty. He slides a hand under your skirt, palming the soaked gusset of your panties. âYou want more?â he asks almost mockingly, as if you arenât completely wrecked and pliant on top of him.
You canât say anything but his name, over and over again, as your head falls onto his shoulder. Theodore flips your skirt up for better access, not even bothering to take it fully off. âI-I feel weird,â you say powerlessly, the arousal growing in you with every passing second. You can feel Theodoreâs breath coming faster and faster as he revels in the way you fall apart for him.
âWeird good, hm?â he assures you, nipping at your shoulder before his fingers slip under your panties, two of his fingers sliding through your folds. âFuck, youâre so wet,â he groans, circling your clit slowly with his thumb. âYouâve soaked me already, principessa.â
âOh, Theo!â you exclaim, moaning softly as he toys with your clit. Youâve never felt any sensation like this before, and your toes curl as you buck your hips closer to his hand. âFuck,â you whimper, legs shaking with purse desire. Theodore clearly loves the sounds youâre making, biting down harshly onto your collarbone or neck every time a desperate whimper leaves your lips.
He presses two fingers inside your cunt without warning, curling them just right as his thumb keeps working your clit. âJust like that, baby,â he coaxes, watching your face contort in pleasure. âSqueeze my fingers, tesoro. Youâre doing so well.â
You whimper his name, biting your lip as your pussy clenches around his fingers. âFeelsâ ngh, feels tight.â
âI know,â Theodore murmurs, kissing your jaw as he pumps his fingers, stretching you just right, touching a part of you that you yourself hadnât ever reached. Your virgin cunt is clenching around him like a vise, and it takes every ounce of his self-control to not flip you onto the bed and fuck you properly. âRelax, amorina,â he murmurs, slowly adding a third finger. You moan loudly at the intrusion, the sting of pain only adding to your pleasure.
The coil in your stomach becomes tighter with every passing second, your hips wildly chasing the pleasure that only Theodore can provide. âI-I feel weird, Theo. Please.â You donât even know what exactly youâre begging for, only that you feel so dangerously close to something, only that you might float away if not for your hands digging into his shoulders, grounding you.
Theodore, on the other hand, knows exactly what youâre begging for. âIâve got you, baby. You can cum, I know you can.â He curls his fingers against your g-spot, his thumb still rubbing circles onto your clit. Your back arches, your head tilted back as the coil in your stomach snaps. A borderline scream tears from your throat as you orgasm violently, for the first time, on his hand. Theodore holds you through it, fingers still working your pulsing walls gently as you cum. As he watches you, he vaguely thinks to himself that heâll never be able to forget the way your cunt milks his hand, the way your skin shines with sweat, the way your mouth parts to form a perfect âOâ shape as you cum with his name on your lips.
âGood job, bella,â he praises, kissing your chest as you calm down from your high, holding you through the aftershocks as he pulls his fingers out with a slick pop. âYou did amazing,â he whispers into your ear before kissing you softly. And then, simply because he canât help himself, he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.
âTheo,â you hiss, grabbing his wrist to try and stop him, but feeling too tired to use any of your strength. âThatâs revolting.â
Theodore responds only with a smirk. âNo, youâre delicious. I love how messy you are for me,â he teases as he licks the last of your arousal off. You shove his shoulder gently, your face red with embarrassment.
âWill you shut up?â you grumble, letting your body collapse against his. You feel limp, boneless, spent. Theodoreâs lips find yours again, and he kisses you slow and lazy, different from the hungry ones earlier. You can taste yourself in his mouth, and you should find it disgusting, but you donât. If anything, you find it hot.
Theodore breaks away just enough to murmur, âyou okay?â His free hand strokes your back soothingly. You can tell he sees how wrecked you feel, your eyes heavy with drowsiness, your mind clouded with the aftermath of pleasure.
âMhm,â is the only reply you can manage, your body completely reliant on Theodoreâs to be able to sit upright. You know you should probably be thinking more about the implications of this event on your relationship, but the only thing you can think about is how good it feels to be able to touch Theodore in this intimate way and have him touch you as well. You feel fucking estatic.
âThat was good, no? And with just my fingers.â You scoff, burrowing your face into the crook of Theodoreâs neck, letting him pick you up and set you down onto his bed.
âYouâre so cocky.â But as soon as your head hits the pillows, all of your sassy remarks escape you, the feeling of tiredness quickly overcoming you. Theodore laughs unguardedly and brushes the hair out of your face, hovering over you as he watches your eyes flutter shut.
âYou should focus more on resting than insulting me, you know?â Theodore murmurs, laying down on his side next to you, admiring the blissed out look on your face, the flush of your body, your exposed skin.
You turn your head towards him, opening your eyes to make eye-contact. âBut what about you?â You gesture to his painfully hard cock, still straining under his sweats.
âItâs not for you to worry about, amore,â Theodore says kindly, pressing a soft and gentle kiss to your forehead. âIâll let you take care of me next time, hm?â
Your heart swells. âNext time?â you whisper breathlessly, wide eyes looking up at him. Theodore has always loved this about youâthat your emotions are always painted so clearly on your face. Youâre the definition of an open book.
âWhat, are you not interested?â he murmurs seductively, his dead eyes searching yours yet again, a devilish smirk painted onto his face.
You huff, cheeks puffing out as you shake your head. âWhy do you always have to tease me?â Theodore chuckles at that, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he breathes in your scent again, now mixed with the distinct smell of sex. You cannot wait for the next time Theodore ruins you.
âSorry, bambina. Youâre so sweet, I just canât help it.â
