Under his Desk, Over your Head.
guyssss this is my first time posting smut on here !!! love theo duhhh. and lorenzo in GENNN. and bad bunny after the superbowl? hell yeah. let me know if ya'll want some of that in the fut ;)
idk how the aesthetic like warnings or intro goes. #foreplay? #preludetosex? #letmeknow if ya'll want me to continue this bcs theres more where this came from.
NOT proofread oopsie if theres repetition or typos
hope you will enjoy. pls comment on what i can do better at, if anything left a bad taste in your mouth, or if you want me to write more of something! xoxo
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"Stop playing with your food lassy!" Hermione snorts, hand launching to block the piece of lettuce soaring in her direction, grazing her jaw. She grabs her neck and mocks a choking sound, acting as if the vegetable triggered a histamine response from one hit. Your eyes venture over to Cho's, and hers fall away from yours. You keep your lips sealed, putting a bubble of air in your mouth, stifling your laugh, before it bursts out. Cho's silent laugh turned into a pretty damn audible one, and Hermione joined in, shoving your arm. "’Sound like Ron with all that wheezing." she adds. An image of the redhead pops into YOUR head, and you just giggle some more, holding your stomach because you’re the type who loses their breath after the joke’s long over. Cho shoots a pointed glance her way. "Well, what does Ron have to do with any of the food throwing?" she asks, twirling a strand of her raven hair with a flourish.
You gasp, dramatically covering your mouth with one hand. “You fancy carrot top don’t you?” You ask, beaming at her and discreetly poking your tongue out at Cho. Hermione moves to open her mouth in a retort, but is rendered speechless, her lips forming a thin line. She scrunches her nose as a blush creeps onto her porcelain cheeks. “I may be a little fond of him. But so what?” She scoffs, averting her attention from herself, getting up from Cho’s bed. You all are in her dorm sharing lunch, since the commons was oh so loud on a particular day where the trio just so happened to all be on your cycles. Cho always warned the two of you about the dreaded pheromone “bluetoothing” phenomenon, and of course the both of you never listened. But as the time ticked and the three of you spent essentially every day together, nature ran its course and your periods synchronized. “Mighty odd you say that, Cho,” Hermione starts, adjusting her lashes with a curler, tippy-toed bent toward her mirror. “-Because a little owl told me that you’ve been eyeing Harry.”
Cho glares at you and motions toward the door. “Out!” she squeals playfully, tossing a pillow your way. You catch it and hop up from the bed too, moving to hide behind Hermione. “I didn’t say anything, I swear! You must’ve told Hermione while you were half asleep or somethin!” Hermione scoffs with a giggle. “That’s exactly what happened, actually.” Cho lunges at the air and spins in circles, tugging her hair. “Please don’t tell Harry.” she whines, repeating it like a mantra. “How dare you use my sleep-honesty against me.” she settles down, throwing her messenger bag over her shoulder and begins to walk out her dorm, shooting a quick look over her shoulder ensuring you’re following. You follow her, and Hermione follows you and shuts the door behind you as you enter the corridor. “My lips are sealed with molasses. I’m just shocked you even see that dweeb as a romantic figure.” Hermione furrows her brows as if she’s in thought about it, shaking her head as she falls into step between the two of you. You mentally smile at the fact that your crush hasn’t once been thought to be prodded about. But your gratitude is short lived, as 6 feet of handsome walk past the three of you, Draco, Blaise, and Mattheo on either side of him, looking as if they’re laughing at something the epitome of hilarious.
Your curious eyes trace him until he passes, desperately trying to meet his pale ones, but to no avail. He’s quite literally in his own world. You sigh, love lornly, and of course your friends notice. “Alright babe, who the hell was that over?” Cho asks, stopping dead in her tracks, dramatically gripping both of your shoulders. Her chocolate brown eyes trace yours for any sort of crack in your act of nonchalance. Hermione spins on her heels, gripping your shoulders from the back, mirroring Cho’s words. “What is this, monkey in the middle?” You groan, wriggling free from both of their grips. “Can a girl not think someone’s hot in peace? “What?” Cho asks, raising her voice a few octaves. “You think Draco’s hot?” Your eyes widen tenfold, and you rapidly shake your head no, starting to laugh at an inappropriate time. Your eyes worriedly dart down the corridor as the boys continue walking, thank Merlin they didn’t hear that. “Shut it Cho, they’ll hear you if you’re that loud.” Hermione chides, ever the “responsible” one of the three. “Exactly.” you add with a confident purse of your pouty lips. “And Theodore’s the one anyway, why would I bat an eye at Draco?”,you blurt without a second thought, before covering your mouth. Damn you and your lack of a filter.
The two girls gasp oh so dramatically, and Hermione, like a fucking parakeet, follows in Cho’s footsteps. Talk about a bad influence. “You said what? You’ve got the hots for Theodore Nott?” you groan with a smile, at least confident that they won’t hear now, that they’re further down the hallway. “Yeah good luck with that, seems like they’re all hard of hearing.” Cho bites her rosy lip, looking in the boy’s direction. “Funny you say that, dearest.” You shut your eyes tightly, opening them to see the worst possible outcome. Messy ass Mattheo pointing a thin little finger directly in you and your friend’s direction, the three other boys turned as well, including of course, Theodore. “Shit” you mutter, turning on your heels, speedwalking down the hallway, and of course your girls follow.
“Only like…” he rubs his chin in thought, bringing his fingers out to count, mouthing numerals. “About 9, since 5th year.”, he tells you with finality, nodding his head as if to punctuate his point. “Mattheo! Be so serious.” you groan, rubbing your temples as the number rings through your head. “I am!” he retorts holding his hand up in surrender. “Lad’s got a way with his words, I guess. But yeah, he’s had around nine girlfriends, atleast that’s what I can count.” What he can count? You curse yourself for having such a liking to this pretty boy. You may be smitten, but you’re not an idiot. Since that disaster of the hallway hollering, you made it your mission to get in good with Mattheo, knowing he’ll get you right with Theodore.
It’s not that you couldn’t get him. You see yourself in the mirror every morning. You know you turn heads and have no difficulty having a man at your feet. Kissing them even. But something about this stupid pretty boy has you rethinking your prowess, your confidence turning into a mere puddle whenever the chance presents itself for you to approach him. So, being the resourceful gal you are, you hauled Mattheo down after lecture, using the excuse that you need to catch up with notes, and he’s the only one in the class who looked to be paying attention. Total lie. You watched as he scribbled sketches of cannabis leaves and dragons under the influence of said cannabis the entire period, but hey, girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. After three days of doing this, he finally caught the hint that you were looking to befriend him. And not only that, but... To do what you’re doing right now, you guess. Getting allll possible info about Theo and how to finally make your move and pounce. Mattheo notices your spaced out expression and waves his hand in front of your face.
“Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ve had twice that number of bodies in a year.” you give him a confused look and shove his arm. “You’re just outing yourself as being a promiscuous boy. C’mon. What should I do? I’m kinda at my wit's end. I don’t wanna wait around to fake bump into him or something.” Mattheo rolls his eyes at you. “I’m telling you, that's the method.” he places a hand over his heart in mock hurt, picking at the pages of a library book he hasn’t bothered to begin reading. You stare at him blankly, your expressive eyes showing quite the expression right now. “Alright, don’t give me that look. Please don’t hurt my family.” he jokes, continuing to fidget with the book in consideration. “Okay.. we’ve established that Nott’s had his fair share of attention. But you definitely seem to like him a lot. So how about this.” You lean in close to hear his proposition in the hushed library. “Do some cute shit. Leave him a note or something. Get him thinking. ‘Make you stand out.” You purse your lips, preparing to scoff, but Mattheo’s onto something. Theodore probably has girls throwing themselves at him. If you leave a note, he’ll wonder more for sure. “Where would I leave it though? Like how would I place it conveniently so he’d see?” “In our dorm.”, he responds instantly, seemingly genuinely wanting to help you. “Matter fact, you can do it now. I dont think I can bear hearing you lust over my friend for more than 30 minutes a day, which you’ve well exceeded.” He hurriedly grabs his fidget-book and tosses it into his backpack. You rip a sheet of parchment from your notebook and even hurriedlier start scribbling some bullshit about how you’re his secret admirer and you’d like to get to know him if he’s up for it. You cringe at the final product but fold it neatly, handing your notebook to Mattheo to hold on to. You just want to drop this note off and leave. The two of you begin your step to their dormitory.
“Nott’s with Filch, got detention for mouthing off at a professor. Shouldn’t be back until later, so.. I’ll drop my shit off and you’re good to go.” You nod, imagining Theodore cursing out his teacher, his beautiful features tensing in anger. Hot. “Thanks for the ideas and stuff. I know we haven’t spoken much over the years but I appreciate you going out your way.” You tell Mattheo sincerely. Shit, if all fails with Theodore, atleast you gained a friend. Mattheo’s always been a cutie. Dark curls and flushed cheeks. But that’s where it ends for you. Cute. Theo, Theo, Theo. Always been pretty. And that’s where it starts for you. Pretty. His piercing blue eyes adorned with lashes you’re jealous of. Pretty. His sloped nose and naturally blushed lips. Pretty. You wanna bathe in it. Unwrap his layers like that of a present. Haven’t spoken to this boy once and you’re hooked already, like a fish to bait. “I’ll charge you next time. Cupid’s gotta make ends meet somehow.” he pops the collar of his uniform, a shit eating grin on his lips. “Yeah right. Like me revising your abysmal excuse for an essay isn’t enough payment.” you jab him with your elbow, chuckling as he lets out a girly ass scream in response, mocking you from when you earlier did the same as he stepped on the back of your shoe, giving you a flat tire.
“Watch it, before I tell good ol’ Theo you have herp or something.” You shut right up. You don’t wanna take any chances, whether he’s joking or not. The two of you finally reach the dorm, Mattheo clicks in his password and opens the door. You run in excitedly, you go so fast it’s like a trail of wind follows behind you. “Calm down, mate. Told you he’s not in here.” he snickers, placing his backpack down. “Have at it. Theo’s bed’s the one closest to the window. Don’t rummage too hard, ‘kay?” You nod with mock obedience as ‘Riddle shoots you a last look over his shoulder, a wink, and closes the dorm’s door. You sigh, spinning around like a fairy. You’re in Theodore fucking Nott’s room. Without wasting a second, you waltz over to Theodore’s bed, noticing how it’s neatly made up, pillows stacked even neater.
You glance at the other three beds in the room, sheets and duvets hastily pulled to the top of the mattress, or simply unmade all together. You plop down onto his bed, bringing your nose to his pillow, smelling it. You close your eyes, pleased. You can smell his shampoo, minty. Hopping up, you tuck the note underneath his duvet, hoping he’ll see it before he goes to sleep. You imagine him, shirtless, pants hanging low on his hips, hair messed. Reading your note with a sly smile on his lips, before going to sleep, you on his mind. You giggle to yourself, you crazy girl. You make your way to his desk, positioned on the posterior wall. Two quills, a mahogany leather book with his initials engraved onto the cover. A bottle of unscented lotion too. Love a man who moisturizes, don’t you? You open his desk... Holy jackpot. His quidditch jersey. You clutch it, bringing it up to your nose by the neckline, smelling it.. You practically moan at the scent. His pheromones are all over that thing, his natural woodsy scent forcing you to lick your lips to keep from drooling. You fold it neatly, placing it back into its place in the desk’s drawer. As you close it, your bracelet slips off, the clink of metal echoing in the empty room.
“Damnit” you mutter under your breath, getting down onto the floor, looking for the circular chain. You see its glint under the desk, extending your arm to get it, but the reach is too far. You practically crawl under his desk, grabbing your bracelet and moving to get up from underneath, ready to get the hell out of there before you lose your earrings next. And those diamonds gotta stay. As you move to your feet you hear the door open. You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to ask Mattheo if he forgot to get some condoms, knowing him. But the sight you actually see causes your heart to drop to your stomach. And then it begins to pound, rattling against your ribs, as if it’s trying to break free. Practically entering fight or flight mode. You hold your breath, wordlessly returning to your previous position, underneath his desk. Mattheo will have hell to pay for this. What the heck happened to detention?
You shut your eyes tightly, praying to Merlin that he didn’t see you, and doesn’t discover you. That’d just.. Plain ruin your chances of ever getting him. Crazy weirdo girl in his room, snooping around in his belongings, sniffing for his scent like a cat in heat. Haven’t spoken to him like, ever, not since fourth year, if that. You take deep, silent breaths, willing your racing thoughts to a halt, listening for any sort of movement. You hear what sounds like him placing his bag down, the clack of his loafers sounding deafening. A door opens and closes, one you can only assume as the bathroom. You debate on getting up and making a run for it, but decide against it. What if he hears? What if he forgot something from his room and comes out to retrieve it unexpectedly, spotting you?
A few minutes turn to what feels like fifteen, the sound of water cascading onto tile filling the room. The delicious thought of him showering, rubbing soap all over his tensed muscles flits into your mind, but you will it away. This is do or die, not freaky time. You made your entertainment by tugging at your strands of hair, messily braiding two braids before undoing them and repeating the process, four braids that time. By the time you remove those, your hair holds a bit more curl. Cute, you think to yourself. You hear the door open and exhale, hoping he’ll leave his dorm now, perhaps to meet up with Blaise, or Draco, or both. Merlin knows what Mattheo’s up to right now, the way he rushed out without a second thought. Theo’s footsteps are softer now, due to his lack of shoes. A zipper, the sound of rustling parchment, and loud slam from right above the desk fills your ears. You fight the urge to jump at the noise, and any desire to dies in your bones. The chair is pulled out, the wood beneath it groaning, as Theodore sits, pushing it in slightly. You hear his elbows hit the desk as he opens his book, the sound of parchment rustling even louder now, because, well, he’s sitting right at the desk you’re under! You bite the inside of your cheek, bringing your knees to your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible.
After a moment, you raise your lids, opening your eyes. You’re met with a not so horrible view. Theo’s bare feet on either side of your body, his legs man spread, navy blue and green flannel pajama pants worn on his legs. A hand is resting loosely, hanging between his legs, his nails cut short, fingers long, pale, veins decorating his skin like branches of a wise tree. What a sight. Minutes pass once more, and you hear sounds of writing, quill scratching parchment. Barely audibly, a light plop sounds, a flash of white floating slowly as it fell. His fucking quill just so happened to fall under the desk, landing centimeters from your leg.. Is Merlin playing tricks on you right now? You gaze to your left, and then your right. You’re trapped.. Pair of what’s got to be well over size 13 feet cage you in, you’ve got nowhere to go. You hold your breath as you hear Theodore mutter an italian curse under his breath, huffing as he leans down to retrieve the blasted writing utensil. One of his hands grips the edge of the desk to steady himself, as the other traces the floor, leaning forward blindly. He’s nowhere near the quill, his blind search kind of amusing.
You smile a bit, forcing a giggle down your throat. What WASN’T so amusing was when he began tilting his head downward, looking for the quill. Shit, shit shit. If he looks any lower, he’ll see you without a doubt. As he sort of crouches, you get a better view of his attire. A black t- shirt on top of his flannel trousers. Then his neck, his defined adam’s apple, column of his throat. His jawline, taut against his bone structure, sharp enough to cut cake. His lips, Merlin, those lips, those pretty pink lips. As his fingers finally wrap around the quill, you let go of the breath you’re holding, silently letting your chest rise and fall with air again. He returns to his original spot on his desk and you picture his picture perfect posture. The sound of writing fills your ears again, and you relax as around 3 more minutes pass.
“You know, I know you’re under there, right?”, a smooth voice lilts, you can almost hear him grinning as he speaks the words. Your eyes shoot open. Holy shit, your ass is grass. How could he even know? There’s no way he could’ve seen you, not even when he walked in. Instead of making your presence known, you settle for the easiest option. Shutting the fuck up and hoping he drops it. A girl can try. But of course, of beautifully course, why would he ever do that? His foot moves to nudge yours, and despite his earlier fumbling to retrieve his quill, his aim is suddenly perfect now. “Come on. Not even a hello?” he chuckles lightly, running his foot playfully up your calf, blindly, yet precisely. “I thought you had the hots for me. What happened to that?”, he asks, his voice closer now, his elbows resting on his knees as he leans in. That gets you talking. He knows it’s you. And like the true brat you are, you instantly go into defense mode.
“I never said that.”, you blurt, noticing how your voice comes out higher pitched than usual. You sound like a ditsy, thirsty fool. But for Theodore, he renders you exactly that. “No?” he asks, tilting his head to the side in thought. “So you’ve just been hiding under my desk for what, 30 minutes, just for fun?” he deadpans, placing his foot back onto the wood next to you. “Maybe I am.” you say with mock confidence, but you sound plain stupid. To yourself you do, at least. To Theodore, this is the best thing since sliced bread. “Vieni qui, let me see you.” he drawls, and obediently ,you move to crawl up from under the desk, but his leg moves to stop you, and he clicks his tongue. “No no, you stay where you are, you’re not off the hook for snooping in my shit.” His tone is a bit firmer, but the playfulness of it all still seeps through. You sigh, sitting criss-cross applesauce.
Not quite knowing how to reveal yourself, you just lean up, clinging to the middle of his chair’s seat, popping your head up from the desk. Your eyes dart around the dorm, finally settling on his, your long lashed doe eyes meeting his gaze. A half-smile’s on his lips as he meets your eyes, not at all shy about it. “Oh, Merlin, look at what we have here.” he amusedly starts, his large hand moving to smooth a piece of your hair that’s sticking up. “Little miss priss. Think you’re so damn sneaky.” You groan, your cheeks filling with blood and warmth, unable to contain your smile. “I am sneaky. I’ve got all your backup ink stuffed in my pockets right now. Honestly just came in here to rob you.” You joke, trying to diffuse the tension. How can he be more attractive up close, looking up at him like this? “Whoa, might have to search you then.” He shoots you a smile, albeit a fake one, as in tandem with his grin, he outstretches his hand toward your face, his large palm covering it as he pushes you back under his desk.
“The fuck?” You ask, not mad at his hands on you, he can do that again. But you’re a little pissy, you just know some of your makeup smeared. “I don’t take too kindly to people breaking in and entering. I think I'll just keep you in here so you can reflect on that.” Is he serious? “Oh, so you’re putting me in time out? Dude!” you can’t help but giggle at the absurdity. “Yup.” he replies simply, dipping his quill into its ink, beginning to write again. Ten seconds pass before you crack, knowing your legs are gonna have wild cramps if you stay under this desk all night. “So..” you start, twiddling your thumbs under the dark shield of wood. “Is my time up?”
“You haven’t even made a dent in it.” he laughs, shaking his head as he writes. “Look, you like me so much, yeah? Rub my calf or something, shits sore from quidditch. I’ve got studying and I’m not letting you leave.” he tells you in finality, placing his foot in your lap as if to prove a point. You huff, before rolling his pajama pants up neatly, revealing a muscular calf, a dusting of mousy brown hair adorning his leg. You bite your lip at the sight. Hairy guys just do something to you. “Is this my punishment for my crimes?” Without looking up from his parchment, he replies “Mmm…no. It’s not punishment” he tells you, matter of factly. “It’s community service.” You snort, beginning to rub circles on his muscles and yeah, they’re pretty tense. He continues.
“It reduces the length of your sentence,” he adds, tapping his parchment. “Or increases it. Depends how good you are.” Your brows quirk at that. Deciding to test that theory, you dig your nails into his leg lightly. Instead of the blow up reaction you expected, he just chuckles, the sound coming deep from his throat. “Yeah, alright. You just added an hour.” He nudges your shoulder with his knee as he says it. You groan, hastily pulling his pant leg back down.
You’re about to make a snarky retort when the door swings open without warning. Blaise strolls in first, looking half-asleep, his tie loose around his neck. Draco follows, already mid-complaint, and Mattheo trails behind them with a smug grin on his face, the asshole must’ve just got some. Instinctively, you freeze under the desk—though Theodore doesn’t even flinch. His quill keeps moving, his posture relaxed, like you being hidden under his desk is the most normal thing in the world.
Blaise flops onto Theodore’s bed, sighing dramatically. “If I fail this exam, I’m suing the school,” he mutters. Draco snorts, tossing his bag onto a chair. “You can’t sue Hogwarts, Zabini.” Mattheo grins like the idea delights him. “You can if you do it quietly and don’t get caught.” he adds, plopping down on his own bed, Draco sauntering over to his own, likely the unmade, messy one.
“Oh shut up, Riddle. You’re like if Hogwarts laid an egg.” His tone is bored, and tweedledee and tweedledum, AKA Draco and Blaise laugh at his remark, dapping each other up like siamese cats. The four boys carry on in chatter, and you suppose Theodore’s a master multitasker, because he’s still writing away with that stupid quill. You glance at his calf again, remembering how tense it felt beneath your hands. And then, it’s as if a lightbulb blinks in your head.
Slowly, without hesitation, you reposition yourself so you’re on your knees, hands tracing the apex of Theo’s thighs. You weigh the consequences of getting caught by the boys, but also mentally file that his shirt is long enough to cover the fact that his pants are about to be at his ankles in the next 5 seconds. Hooking your fingers into his waist band, you pull his pants down, leaving him in his boxers, navy blue, and holy hell, that thing’s got to be a third leg. You school your expression into nonchalance, placing your chin on the middle of the chair. The desk is just so perfectly cut so that you can get a front row view of his face. And of course he’s already looking down at you, eyebrow quirked, but surprisingly, a grin on his lips.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he mouths, bringing his free hand down to thump your forehead lightly. Being less than discreet, he turns his head back, then left, then right, to see if any of the boys are witnessing the fuckery that’s about to occur underneath this desk. And in their typical fashion, the three are wrapped up in their own conversation about which professor is the most crackable, asking Theodore’s opinion every so often, knowing he’s studying. How polite. Your gaze returns to Theo’s lap, noticing a wet patch in his boxers that was not there a few seconds ago. You smile a million dollar smile. Even if he tries to feign indifference, his body is definitely asking for what his mouth is too fixed for. Your hands grow even more sure, hooking into his boxers this time, pulling them down, once again to his ankles. You can’t suppress the small gasp that leaves your lips as your eyes are met with his dick. Semi-hard, it reaches beyond his mid thigh, the tip pink, glistening with his pre. You notice a mole on his shaft. Even his dick is pretty.
How you’re going to fit it in your mouth? You have yet to find that information out. You rest your head on his toned thigh, eyes flitting up to meet his again. His expression goes flat, deadpan, like he’s questioning every life choice that led him to this exact moment. A thick brow arches, wordlessly asking if you’re serious right now.. His jaw shifts, grinding once, and his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he mouths, “Really?”He asks, not breaking eye contact with you, as if he’s trying to scare you off. You nod, bringing your hand up to your mouth, spitting into your palm. He shuts his eyes tightly, rubbing his temple with a tired smile. What is he going to do with you? With the slick of your spit, you take him into your hand, cupping it around his length, letting it slowly move from his glans to his base, and back up again, listening for any sort of sound, reaction, anything. His silence infuriates you, what, does this dude use a death grip on himself or something?
At this point you start just tuning into the boy’s conversations, and you just so happened to at the perfect time, as Mattheo suddenly points at Theo with a grin. “No,” he starts, and you already know some bullshit’s going to come out his mouth. “I know his type. He’s definitely into Babbling. Bet he’d—” Theodore finally cuts in, his voice playful and seemingly detached? “No. But I did have a dream once where Trelawney tried to marry me.” Blaise loses his mind laughing, and Draco even lets out a little giggle. Mattheo and Blaise are killing your ears with their snickers, though. Theo’s lips twitch, barely, laughing lightly. His voice stays steady,, as he corrects, “Not the question though. If I had to pick, it'd be Hooch.” You hear Mattheo holler at this, and the other two quickly yell pass, droning on about how unfuckable she is. Your jaw slacks at his ability to joke right now, while you’re literally on your knees?
You cave in, tapping him on the hamstring as your eyes flit back to his again. He seems annoyed, but looks back down at you, his eyes silently asking, “What now?” You just bat your lashes at him as you swirl your tongue around his opening, spreading his pre, as you hollow your cheeks, sinking your mouth down onto him, watching his reaction. At first, he looks annoyed—brows drawn, lips pressed together. Then something about the sensation or situation hits him wrong or maybe too right and he lets out a low, surprised laugh, the kind that slips past before he can stop it, his normal breathing turning into soft pants only you can pick up on. The boys don’t think anything of it, assuming he’s just laughing at the overall topic of conversation. His hand flies to his face, thumb rubbing his jaw, almost embarrassed. You feel his little sounds deep in your body, his noises easily turning you on like a wind up toy. You rise, and go down again, your nose hitting the bottom of his stomach as you deepthroat him. “Ah, fuck, bella.” he groans under his breath, unable to control himself as he feels the thin walls of your inner mouth grip his sensitive tip like a vice.
His groan gets you all the more excited, as you begin to deepthroat him more, but you gag, pulling back for air and coughing. As if he read your mind, he closes his book loudly, opening it again once your breathing returns to normal. Draco looks towards the both of you’s direction, his brow quirking, but he shakes his head, realizing it was only the book. You take a deep breath, getting on your knees again, laying your chin on his thigh. “Sorry.” you whisper, your gaze briefly meeting his eyes before darting away, your confidence kind of crumbled. You’re not exactly a head master. And you almost got him caught, which isn’t so sexy either. He places his quill down, momentarily giving you his full attention. He brings a hand down to caress your jaw, tracing his thumb along your lower lip, tugging it down with his fingertip. He brings his other hand down to your mouth, using it to tug your mouth open, examining your teeth playfully, as a dentist would. You cheese as he lightly tugs on your mouth, poking your tongue out at him. He releases his fingers, noticing a string of your spit left on them. He exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, opening his mouth and pointing to the back of his throat, as if he’s gagging, then discreetly licks his finger clean.
You nibble on the inside of your cheek, the sight making you feel like a giddy pre-teen. As you absently bat your lashes at him, his gaze softens. He realizes you’re just trying to please him, and whatever form of feelings you have for him seem to be genuine. He’s had his share of female attention, but nobody’s gone the lengths you have, snooping in his room for whatever reason you were. He sighs, eyes shifting from left to right, as if trying to reason with himself. A relationship is definitely not what he needs right now. Not while N.E.W.T.s and the smaller yet important exams proceeding them are right around the corner.
Because Theodore is much more than a pretty face. He takes his grades as seriously, if not even more seriously than he takes his leisure. Sure, you’re a doll. And it’s not that he’s not interested, it’s just… can he really risk getting attached to someone? Letting them in, just to have his delicate heartstrings marred and shaved, bruised and abused? The battle in his brain of how to proceed is a short-lived one, though. Because, you sure are a beauty. What’s a little distraction going to hurt? He’ll allow it. He’ll humor you, just this once. And if you live up to what that mind of his is expecting, he might just keep you around for more than a quick fuck.
He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up, then down again. Eyes meeting yours, a stupid smirk on his lips, his hand finds the back of your head. He digs his short nails into your scalp scratching at your head gently, calming down your racing nerves. He tilts his head to the side, beginning to speak.“Nah, Filch let me leave early.”, he starts, the other boy’s voices had turned to background noise for you. He centers his sight on you again, loose waves falling into his eyes as he tilts his head down. His tongue slowly runs along his lower lip as you feel pressure on the back of your head, pulling you back to his crotch. You don’t make a move to open your mouth yet, and his eyes narrow, rolling in a way only he could make look sexy. More pressure is applied to your head, his thumb rubbing the soft spot behind your ear. He softly huffs, taking his free hand to himself, stroking himself at an unhurried pace. His brow quirks, as if asking, “You want it?” You watch as he speaks again. “Had me cleaning erasers, shit was dull. Just told him I was sore and he let me dip.”
“That easy?” Blaise asks, and before Theodore answers him, he runs his tip along your lips. You giggle softly, opening your mouth, poking your tongue out at him. He brings his dick to it, smacking it on your tongue a few times. He takes his lower lip between his teeth at the feeling, smiling as he does. Gripping your hair gently, he pushes your head down, and pulls it back up again, exhaling. “Mhmm.” he says lazily, both to you and Blaise. “Yeah okay mate, tell him to zip you up when he’s done.” Draco chides, and oh, the irony of his metaphor. Theo’s eyes quickly dart to yours, a smug expression on his sharp features. He continues guiding your head, slowly, ensuring that you don’t gag again. How thoughtful of him. “Malfoy,” Theo starts, “If you’re that desperate to participate, raise your hand like everyone else.” Draco scoffs but smiles, he can’t be mad when his friends check him. You try not to laugh as they continue bickering. “Ladies, ladies, stop the cat fighting.”, Mattheo starts, but you hear his voice muffled. You peek up from Theo’s lap as his grip on your head slacks, and notice Mattheo got a pillow to the face from none other than Draco.
A certain someone notices your lack of commitment and wastes no time pushing your head back down, balls deep, before quickly releasing, guiding your paces slowly again. Another two minutes of this passes, you being guided by his strong hand, sucking him off, his barely noticeable breaths spurring you on, as he continues quill to parchment. “Can’t.” You hear him mumble, not looking up from his work. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, still. Bring back some ice cream or something.” Mattheo mumbles a remark about nerds, and Blaise and Draco can be heard rising from the beds, sauntering over to the door, chatting about what they’re gonna stuff their faces with. The door opens, and then it closes, quiet returning to the room. Hand still in your locks, he pulls your mouth off him. You inhale and exhale, letting the back of your hand wipe your face. “Is that how you treat all the guys you fancy?” he starts, closing his book, seemingly for the night now. “Give them head under their desk while their fucking friends are the room?” You thoughtfully place a finger on your chin. “Just you.” you giggle, gasping as he tugs you up to your feet. He pulls his pants and boxers up in a swift motion, standing from his desk chair, neatly pushing it in. His eyes survey you, raking up and down your body. You do the same. “What?” you ask, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. He ignores your question, asking a new one. “You got anyone waiting up for you?”
You think about that. Hermione and Cho always would be expecting you for dinner right about now, but they’ll understand your absence once you explain where exactly you are tonight. “I don’t.” you tell him for certain. “You hungry?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes darting to his bed, before quickly back to yours. “I’ve already ate.” you tell him, which technically wasn’t a lie. You did have a heavy lunch before your library gossip sesh with Mattheo. “Alright alright, just checking.” He walks up to you, tugging at your cardigan. “Get comfy. Come lay with me.”
Your heart flutters. I mean, you’re more excited to cuddle with him than you were to have his dick down your throat. You gently unbutton your grey cardigan, and pull your skirt down too, leaving you in a pair of plain black shorts and a white cami. You kick off your mary janes and enjoy the view of Theodore’s back profile as he walks over to his bed, peeling back the duvet. “What’s this?” he asks, confusion laced in his tone. You take a moment to look up, as you’re occupied in folding your clothes. You raise your head to acknowledge him, noticing a folded piece of parchment in his left hand, unopened. “Oh, I think it fell out my pocket or something while i was snooping.”, you lie, smoothly, walking his way to retrieve it. “Yeah, what’s on it?”, he asks, moving to unfold it, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Uh, personal shit.” you blurt, reaching for the parchment as he lifts it past your reach, looking up to read it, immediately laughing at the first sentence.
“‘Dear Theodore Nott.’, starting off strong with my full government aren’t we? ‘Can’t get your eyes off my mind’.” he continues, reading your love letter aloud. You grumble, your stomach flitting in embarrassment because he’s making a joke of your super rushed super heartfelt words. You spent all of 50 seconds writing that! In a last ditch effort, you hop onto his bed, snatching the letter from his outstretched hand, doing a victory jump with it back in your hands. You couldn’t stand him reading any more of that lovey dovey shit in front of you. You were a different gal when you wrote that. As you come down from your dramatic ass jump, a hand snakes around your waist, and you’re thrown onto the soft bed, body slightly sinking into it at the impact. Before you can yelp, Theo’s on top of you, reaching for the letter, laughing a hearty laugh. “Nah, nah, let me finish reading. What was it about my pouty lips?” he asks between laughs, bringing his fingers to your exposed skin, tickling your ribs where your cami’s risen to get you to loosen up. Now you’re a giggling mess, squealing no over and over. “I didn’t even say anything about your lips in that!”
“No? You sure?” he questions, hand steadying on the curve of your waist, allowing your breathing to even. “Can’t get your eyes off my mind. And those pouty lips” He takes a second to snort. “I’d kiss those things all day, my Theodore Amore.” You close your eyes as, well, he was definitely right about the eyes part. You did say that. But the lips part, you know you didn’t say that shit. You notice where the parchment’s raised, he has ample view of your scribbled confession, but you also notice how the ink written characters have a golden tinged glow, and one of Theo’s hands is sneaking under his mattress, clutching something. “Did you just magically alter my love letter?” You ask, darting up to head butt him. He swiftly makes a left, dodging you, letting your forehead hit his crystalline cheek bone. “Ow.” you mutter softly, leaning back onto the bed. “What are you, made of steel or something?”
He leans down to plant a soft peck on your forehead, soothing the spot. “Maybe” he mumbles against your skin. “So that’s what it was?”, He asks, returning to his original positon, blue eyes gazing down at your form, hair spread on his sheets like a halo. “A love letter to me?” You huff but decide to give in and just admit it once more. “That was my original plan.. I-I,” you stutter. You never stutter. But with eyes like that, a face like that so close to you, you can’t help but stumble over your words, your brain focusing solely on his proximity, more so than your needed speaking abilities. You hear the metallic clank of his wand falling to the ground, his hand moving up to rest on the sheets, beside your head. “After that day where my friends were yelling out your name in the halls, I decided to make friends with Mattheo-”
“You know?” you ask, bemused, naturally furrowing your brows. You wouldn't have figured you were significant enough to be a point of conversation between the two of them. He nods slowly, a pretty little half-smile on his mouth. “I mean, you heard yourself how loosely we were talking. I think..? You seemed to be pretty busy.” He tilts his head to one side, studying your expression as if what he said is the most comedic possible combination of words. You huff, turning your head to the side, shutting your lids tightly, forming crinkles on the sides of your eyes. You can give head but can’t look him in the eyes when it’s mentioned after the fact? The duality of you. Before you can get a retort out, his hand gently finds your chin, tilting your head back to a central point. “Nope, eyes on me, pretty. If you’re gonna be in my room you gotta use your manners.” You sigh, meeting his intense gaze once again. Looking him in the eyes is like.. Being sucked in. Pun unintended. “Well, i really didn’t plan on..y’know,”
“Yeah! Exactly! Thanks for that.” you give him a megawatt smile, without breaking eye contact, and he gives you a genuine one, eyes flitting up and down like ‘What’s up with this girl?’.
“Sure you didn’t, sneaky. I mean, Riddle told me you were probably gonna be snooping around in my dorm, you see.” he starts, twisting a strand of your hair between his calloused fingertips as he speaks. “As soon as I didn’t instantly see you, I already knew you were hiding under something. That’s why I basically ran to the shower. Was trying to give you escape time.”
“Ugh, knew I should’ve.” you laugh, thinking back about how dumb you probably looked, hiding under his desk. He nods his head again, this time from side to side. “No. You gave me some pretty decent neck. Definitely calmed me down while I was studying, so thanks.”
“Decent.” You pfft, under your breath. “I didn’t even make you finish.” He shrugs, noncommittally. “I last relatively long. You’re still here, either way. I wasn’t planning on letting you leave without you getting your nut.” You bite your lip at that. Holy smokesies. Are you about to freak it right now? “What am I, a squirrel?” You watch the gears tick in his head. “You might just be. Your scent’s really attracting me right now. I think I’m ready to mate.” He punctuates his words by grinding his somehow still erect, clothed boner on your thigh. You giggle, scooting up his bed. “Oh gross! You’re like a humpy dog.” you blurt between giggles. Theo laughs as well, crawling up his bed to meet you again. He brings his mouth down to your neck, licking the spot where it connects to your shoulder.
Your shoulders shudder, your lip finding its way between your teeth. “Meow.”, he mutters softly, nudging your nose with his. “Wait fuck, I meant Woof!” he snickers, bringing a hand up to bite his thumb to stop from laughing so hard. “Dumbass.” you snicker, joining his laughter, because everything is fucking funny when you’re with him. You throw your head back , smiling and breathing heavily while catching your breath. Theo takes advantage of this, leaning into you again, placing a soft, exploratory kiss on the underside of your jaw. Then another, on the side of your throat Your laughs turn into sharp breaths. “That tickles.” you sigh, looking at him through your lashes.
“What, you don’t like neck kisses?” He pulls back an inch, studying your expression.
“Well, I dunno.” you tilt your head to the side, giving him more access. “Maybe you should kiss lower and see how much I like that.” you can’t suppress the smirk that sneaks onto your face. You feel like the ultimate flirt with that one liner.
“Maybe I should. Shall I use my pouty lips?” You groan, bringing a hand up to his shoulder to shove him. Asshole. “You and I both know, I didn’t even write that!”
He catches your hand midair, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pinning it above your head, on the silken sheets. “So?” He asks, lowering his face to yours once again. “Is what you’re telling me that you don’t want to kiss me right now? You’ve been biting and licking your lips the whole time we’ve been on this bed.” He’s so close, and you don’t even know why you’re being defiant toward him, despite your pissyness after he embarrassingly read AND altered your freaking note. You know damn well you want this boy. His hair falls messily onto his forehead. You can see the soft moles dotted on his face, by his eye, on his cheek. You can smell his breath even, sweet and minty, just like his hair. “Maybe my lips are chapped.”, you retorted, playfully allowing your eyes to roll.
“Oh you poor thing.” he coos, sarcastically. “You want some chapstick?”
You shake your head. “Then you’d have to get up, and I kind of like you on top of me.”
“Nah, I’ve got some right here.” With the hand not pinning yours to the bed, he reaches into the pocket of his flannels. “Cazzo. I guess I’m out.” he mumbles in mock upset. “Here.” He leans down, and you purse your lips gently, sure he’s going to kiss you. Why else would he offer chapstick like that? And you know he has some on. He always keeps himself taken care of. You shut your eyes, leaning into him, but feel a kiss on the corner of your mouth instead. Then your chin, then a soft one against your jaw, making flutters in your stomach. At this point you’re growing impatient, your eyes fluttering open. He chuckles at your impatient look, eyes trailing down to your lips, and back into yours. Your fingers nearly brush his messy hair, but he snatches your wrist, securing it instantly, with an arrogant twist of his hand. “You rushing me?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. Before you can even nod, he presses his lips to yours, and he slowly drags his mouth across, corner to corner, before finally settling in the center. You sigh in his mouth, and trace your tongue against his lips, wanting in. He accepted eagerly, parting his lips for you.
He tastes like mint and candy and literal rainbows. Does he chew gum for breakfast lunch and dinner? Brush three times a day? Your hands strained against his grip, wanting to feel him, touch him. He pulls back an inch. “Nah uh. You’re still serving your sentence for breaking in.” He laughs lightly, leaning back in, kissing you again, the feeling even more natural and languid than the first. You whine against his mouth, wanting free, but continue to hungrily kiss him back. He pulls back again. “Shut uppp.” he mumbles good naturedly, kissing your nose, and your lips again. But you don’t, still straining against his grip, as it only tightens. What a brat you are. He huffs against your lips, smiling against them, letting himself fall back into you. Unbeknownst to you, he shifts one of the legs straddling your thighs, placing one between yours. You notice immediately his next move, the pressure of his clothed knee against your clothed heat, rubbing back and forth, slowly. You moan into his mouth, and he swallows the sound. He continues and you grow needy, closing your legs around his, needing more friction as your lips create the opposite, softly interlocking. Finally he releases grip on your wrists, caressing them soothingly. Your hands reach to grip his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, impossibly so, and he obliges, placing a soothing hand around your back. He pulls away from your lips, bringing his thumb up to his, running along it. “You’ve got me so hard.”, he groans, tracing his hand along your collarbone. The words make you realize even further how horny you are yourself, your insides beginning to ache dully, clenching around nothing. Fingers find the strap of your camisole, tugging it. “Let me see em.”
“See what?” you ask, evading his obvious innuendo.
“Duh. Your tits, pretty girl.” he lilts, pulling the strap gently off your shoulder, letting it fall down your arm. “Mmm, let me see yours first!” You shoot back, lightly shoving his shoulder.
“My tits?” he asks, pointing to his chest. You nod. He groans, shaking his head with a wide, cheeky smile. “No, you go first, or i’m gettin’ up.,” he taunts, his hand leaving your collarbone to trail down your side, gripping the fabric firmly, threatening to pull the camisole down entirely. “But like, they’re not hard.” you sigh, dramatically , giggling and squirming in his grip.
“You think I care about that shit? I’ll get em hard. C’mon, show me, baby.”
Baby? He’s getting crazy comfortable calling you this on the first night. But your body is definitely not complaining. You cave, because the more he asks, you want to more than you already did. You tug your shirt down quickly, flashing your nipple, before pulling it back up, giggling like a hyena because you’re so amused. He smiles too, and you can almost see a sparkle in his eyes, freaky boy. “Ohhhh, Merlin, show me again. Take it off.” he drawls, playfully desperate. You wonder how you could’ve lucked up like this, ending up in Theo’s bed with him showing you he’s as attracted to you as you are to him. You comply, moving to pull it down, but decide against it. “Get up a little, i’m gonna take it off.”
“Yes ma’am.”He nods, raising onto his palms, sort of planking over your body, caging you in still. Gosh he looks so good on top of you. You hook your fingers into the bottom of your cami, carefully pulling it up and over your head. You place it timidly on the side of his bed, moving then to fix your hair from the ruffling of your undress. He whistles lowly with a million dollar grin, letting some of his weight settle back on you again. You look down at yourself, huffing. “Ugh, they’re soft just like I said.” Sure, you have great tits, but they definitely look better hard. He ignores your complaint and cups your breast, gently running his thumb along your nipple. “You’ve got some niiiice tits.”, the smile still on his face. The feeling sends light tingles all on your chest, and you sigh softly. Even just his finger feels so exquisite. “See? They’re hard already, all better.” the way he says it, he sounds more excited than you.
“Woah, you’re such a magician.” You utter. He leans down and places sporadic kisses all over the top of your breasts, slowly as if savoring the taste of your skin. His lips find your nipple. He palms your tit, holding it firmly as he lowers his mouth again, sucking your nipple into his mouth, his soft lips clamping down on your sensitive point. His other hand finds the neglected nipple, gently taking it between his fingers to tug on it. At this point you can’t hide your satiated squeaks, you feel like you’re on your toes right now. When both your nipples are tinted darker from his sucking and bloodrush, he lets up, lips finding their home on your neck again, your collarbone, your decolletage. All over you.
“Your turn”, you simper lightly, your agile fingers pulling on the cloth of his black tee.
“Oh boy, you gonna suck my tits next?” he questions, snarkily. He delivers a light slap to your breast, watching the skin recoil with lust-brimmed eyes. You squeal softly, biting the inside of your cheek. “Quit it! You literally said you’d show me yours after.” he agrees, good naturedly. “Alright bella, i’ll keep my word.” He moves from on top of you to the side of his bed, resting his weight on his knees. Grabbing at the shoulders of his shirt, he pulls the dark fabric over his head, tossing it carelessly onto the foot of his bed, where the bunched up sheets from your earlier horseplaying lay. His eyes meet yours, not in a cavalier confidence, but definitely in the slightest hint of anticipation. When the sight of his shirtless frame finally processes, you suck in a breath, bringing your index finger to your mouth, playfully biting it. “Mister Notttttt.” you draw out, scooting closer to him on the bed. He scoots back, an expression of mock fear on his face. “You look like you’re about to suck them to me.”
You scoff and swing at him, slapping his painfully attractively built bicep. “Ah, that hurts, mamma.” he beams, grabbing your hand. He pulls you close, laying back onto the sheets himself. Your clothed thighs find their way on either side of his hips, and you place your hands on his torso to steady yourself, essentially straddling his supine form. “I’m so hungry.” you woo, hands exploring the rigid planes of his abs, your eyes hungrily drinking in all the little moles dotted along his skin. What a view. “I’m so edible.”, he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, his bicep flexing at the motion.
“These gotta go, too. Shorts and panties.”
“Panties too? You’re so strict, mister Nott.” you tut, beginning to drag the grey material down your thighs.
“Damn, am I?” he taps a finger on his chin, eyes sliding up in dramatic thought. “You can keep your little mutande on then. But they’re coming off in the next 5 minutes, I hope you know.” Maybe the words were to put you in your place, to scare you. But if you had a tail right now, it’d be going haywire, wagging in pure excitement. You slide your shorts lower down your thighs, lifting one leg and then the other from either side of Theo, successfully removing them. They join his shirt on the foot of his bed. You hear him snort, eyes on your panties and on yours in a quick motion. “How quaint.” he mumbles, his voice raspy from repressed laughter. “Ugh what is with you and laughing at me today?” you grip his bare shoulders, feigning anger. “No way to treat a guest.”
“No no, they’re great.” he chuckles, hands snaking around your hips. “I fuck with unicorns, sure. I just didn’t know it was Tuesday today." his eyes glint with mirth, thumbs rubbing circles on the sides of your hips. You sigh heavily, looking down at yourself. Tits out, sitting prettily on your chest, your soft thighs straddling Theodore’s, your curved hips adorned with a blue thong, pink, purple, and green unicorns dotted along its surface, the words “TUESDAY TUESDAY TUESDAY” stamped onto its waistband. What? You like these panties, and did not expect to get any play on this fine evening. “You’re an ass.”, you tell him, lightly scratching at the skin of his shoulders..
“Pardon?” he asks, baby blues looking up at you innocently. “You’d like me to grab your ass?” teasingly those eyebrows quirk.
“This is your second time putting words in my mouth!” you exasperatedly chide.
“Yeah, sure I am. I mean, take me to dinner first, before throwing yourself at me.” his hands leave your hips, finding the soft mounds of your rear, greedily squeezing with his fingers. You can’t even argue back, because his hands on you feels like it’s a newfound addiction, like striking gold in a coal filled mine. Your mind wanders.
“Do a lot of girls throw themselves at you?” you ask him, studying his expression, his face dropping into something a bit more thoughtful, his brows knitting. Theo tilts his head, studying you back. His gaze lingers on your face now, not your body. “Yeah,” he nods, finally. “Some of them mean it, too.” His tone isn’t bragging—just factual. He sighs, hands rising to wrap around your waist. “A lot of girls get attached to the version of me they build in their heads, y’know? So I just started keeping shit more surface level. I guess that’s on me.“
“Is that a fancy way of saying you’re a hoe?” you joke, laying on his chest, batting your lashes at him. He chuckles, squeezing your waist tighter, enjoying the closeness of your bodies.. “No, bella, I wouldn’t say I’m a hoe. Not if the benchmark is Riddle or Malfoy.” you tuck your lips into your face to keep from laughing, he has a right to dish on his friends, but you don’t have too much of a right to laugh.
“So do you spend all your Fridays like this?”, you ask, resting your chin more comfortably on his pecs.
“This is kind of a first for me. I’ve never gotten a girl in my bed this soon after meeting her. Fourth year stuff or class doesn’t count.”
All you can say is a sweet little oops. He gives you a pointed look, as if to say “Yeah right.”
“Honestly, if this was your plan to get to know me,” he adds lightly, “you skipped about six normal steps.”
“It wasn’t, honest!” quickly you defend your intentions.
“Mah.” he mumbles absently, you can only assume he’s switching to his native language out of comfort. He watches you for a second longer than before. He really looks at you. “I like how you look at me,” he says quietly, hand running up and down the curve of your waist, the other hand holding you firmly against him. “Not just now. In the corridors and during lectures and shit too. You’re not very discreet.”
“I’m not?” you genuinely question, you always felt as if you were taking quick peeks when he wasn’t looking. Him nibbling on pens in thought, walking though the halls, all confidence, wrapped up in conversations with the other Slytherins, or in the dining hall doing the same.
He hums, clearly entertained. “No,” he says, a smile tugging at his mouth. “You think you are, though.” His thumb traces lazy lines on your skin, grounding rather than possessive. “You look like you’re trying very hard not to look. It’s obvious in a sweet way.” His gaze softens. “I noticed a while ago.”
“And you never called me out on it?” you ask, want in your tone.
“I’m not that type of guy. I get nervous around pretty girls.”
“You don’t seem too nervous right now. What are you trying to say?” you ask, scrunching your nose at him.
He seems pleased at your playful demeanor. He shrugs. “I didn’t expect you to be this easy to be around. You surprised me, pleasantly. If you’re game,” he starts, one of hands moving more securely around your back.” “I’d rather not be a passing story. ‘Get to know you properly after this.”
You tilt your head. “So this isn’t just a tonight thing for you?” Theo considers that carefully. “It could be,” he says honestly. “But I don’t want it to be by default.” His shoulders relax. “I like intention.”
“Well of freaking course I’d want to, for goodness sake..” you pause for a beat. “So you like me back?” you ask, nuzzling further into his chest.”
“Merlin, what are we? Third years?” one of his hands leaves your waist to card through his hair, pushing it off his forehead temporarily, just for it to fall back into place. You pout. “It’s a yes or a no, Mister Nott.” His hands return to your hips, pulling your thong-adorned lower body onto his legs, over his semi-hard. “Does that answer your question?” You can’t help the almost silent whine that leaves your lips at the intimate contact, the pressure of him on your center. That feels so nice. You realize you accidentally said the words out loud when he agrees. “It does.” his hands trail back down to your ass, rocking you slightly, making you grind on his boner. You force yourself out your haze.
“Well you like me with one head, but you have two.” He lifts a side of his hair, revealing his pinkened ear without a second thought. “You also have me blushing for you. I might like you a little bit too.” But the way his eyes look as if they’re begging to stay on yours, you’re convinced he truly has a bigger crush on you than he’d like to admit.
“Ooh okay, I believe ya. You definitely showed me.”
His fingers drag softly along your body, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver. “I could… show you a few things,” his voice low and deliberate, letting his lips hover near your ear. You catch your breath, moving your head up to meet his eyes better. “Things like...?” you softly inquire. Theo smirks faintly, brushing the tip of his nose along your jawline. “Harder said than done.” The suggestion makes your stomach tie in knots.
“So show me?” you try to make the words sound confident, sure. But you truly sound needy as they spill from your mouth. Theo wastes absolutely no time, though, his hand creeping up to the back of your head, angling it just right for him as he lets himself kiss you once again. You can’t help my sigh at the feeling of his lips on yours, millions of nerve endings feeling as if they’re on fire in the best possible way. Your hands move up, one holding his face at the cheekbone, the outer lazily scratching his scalp at the nape of his neck. And his only move further south, one hand gripping at your ass cheek, spreading it open, letting the cool air of his room nip you, the other one sliding the fabric of your thong to the side, revealing you not to his eyes, but to his wandering hands. His kisses become more lax, his pace unhurried, savoring you. He allows the fabric of your thong to slide over the back of his hand, essentially placing his hand in the small scrap of fabric you call underwear.
The chill of his dorm’s air is balmed as he drags his finger along the very edge of your dampness, tracing your labia with the back of his nail before switching to the pads of his fingers. The sharp-then-soft sensation makes your stomach flip. His fingers grow more sure, letting the tip of his middle finger shallowly breach you. He softly groans at how wet you are, feeling absolutely jealous of his digit, wishing instead it was his dick that was between those puffy lips. He trails his fingers down, giving your clit a quick pinch, before soothing it with the same two fingers, rubbing firm circles around her, then on her. You squeak, pulling back from the kiss, and he mutters a halfhearted oops. You prepare to pout, but before you can, his finger slides into you, slowly moving out and in again. A needy noise bubbles in your throat, your walls clenching around his digit so tightly, they nearly push him out. He notices of course, pulling back from kissing you to taunt. “You’ve got such big talk but can hardly take one finger?” He asks from beneath you, pulling his finger out to rub at your entrance again, willing you to relax your muscles. You of course, ever the smart mouth attempt to defy his line of thinking. You shrug, sliding your hands down to snake behind his head, around his neck, anchoring yourself onto him.
