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“Get in here,” growled Sebastian, pulling her through the open doorway. He slammed it shut, plunging them into total darkness.
“Turn on the lamp you cretin,” she hissed.
“No.”
It wasn’t what she’d been expecting when he’d asked her to meet him after class. But then again, he had said in the dungeons. She’d just decided to ignore that part.
His firm grip left her and she could hear his footsteps receding, so it was with a jolt that her wand tip flared directly into his face, throwing it into sharp relief. His cheeks were chiselled in the shadows, his eyes dark and bottomless. She could just make out the smattering of freckles across his nose that gave him that boyish glow when they were out and shouting in the highlands.
“Why are we in the dark?” she asked uncertainly.
He cocked his head. “I thought you liked dark and ominous places.”
“Oh har har.”
She rolled her eyes and moved across the room, lighting the dusty candelabra that loomed out of the shadows. She turned around. He was still watching her; standing there in silence and studying her intently.
She bristled. “Can I help you?”
He smiled slightly, his jaw clenched, and said, “actually, I was thinking very much that I could help you.”
“I – what? Help me how?” She frowned.
“Well, you see,” he said, taking a step towards her, “after yesterday it became very clear to me that all of this Ranrok business is a bit stressful, don’t you think?”
She didn’t respond.
“And I was thinking,” he continued, “that a little stress relieving activity might be order, don’t you?”
There was something she hadn’t seen in his eyes before. Or maybe she had; maybe in some of those moments when he thought she wasn’t looking at him properly; when he thought she was too preoccupied to notice the feral way he looked at her. Like he’d consume her whole if she let him.
She was very certain she wouldn’t protest.
“What, like Quidditch?” she suggested innocently. “Or another trip into the Catacomb?”
“How hilarious you are,” he murmured.
He was standing over her now and she thought she’d like it printed in The Daily Prophet that her knees were NOT trembling, her mouth was NOT salivating, and her cunt was NOT dripping all in under a minute. And he hadn’t even touched her. Because that’s what Sebastian Sallow does to a person. That’s what Sebastian Sallow had been doing to her ever since her awkward arrival at the start of term.
He reached out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “I don’t think Quidditch is going to cut it, do you?”
She silently agreed with him, sure she knew exactly where this was going and equally sure it was exactly where she wanted to go. But of course, being her, she wouldn’t go without a fight.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked.
She was amazed at how bored she sounded, as though they were discussing which route to take to potions; she noticed with a quiet triumph the brief flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
She was suspicious he adored her. In the times he held the door open for her; in the valiant way he plunged ahead of her in battle; in the small moments he sought her out to share things with her, confide in her, ask for her opinion. She wondered if he knew she adored him too – had done since he’d taken the fall for her in the library that night. Or it could have been the first time they’d spoken and he’d glared at her in affront with an acerbic can I help you before realising who she was.
But then, she liked fucked up people like that. And Sebastian was – fucked up that is.
She could see his Adam’s apple bopping as he swallowed and she smiled widely.
“What’s up Sallow? Kneazle got your tongue?”
But he didn’t say anything, staring into her eyes with that unbridled hunger again. She stared back defiantly. He looked away.
“Say sorry,” he muttered.
“For what.”
“For yesterday,” he snapped.
“Excuse me?” She laughed hysterically and it echoed around the dungeon. “And here I was thinking that you were going to apologise to me.”
His eyes flicked back to her. “Now that is presumptuous darling,” he replied, his voice low and dangerous. “How in the world did you come to that conclusion?”
“Oh,” she laughed. “Only on account of that fact that I’m right and you’re an arsehole.”
His eyes darkened and he grabbed her face roughly and crashed his lips down on hers. She gasped into his mouth, not expecting him to take the bait so quickly, but the kiss was hot and heavy and full of his frustrations and far better than what she’d imagined during the quiet hours in her dormitory. She snaked her hands around his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands. He moaned, low and deep, and forced his tongue into her mouth, his hand moving from her face down to her throat, squeezing it gently. It was her turn to moan now, and it seemed to fuel Sebastian further, pressing himself into her until her back collided with the hard wall. He broke the kiss, unthreading her arms from his neck and pinning them almost painfully to the wall on either side of her as she yelped.
“Now, now, we can’t have that,” he said, trailing his nose along her jaw and nuzzling her ear, chuckling as her breath hitched in her throat. “First Lodgok and now this; you are becoming very disobedient indeed.”
Merlin almighty was she wet. She wasn’t entirely sure how it had gone from stolen glances and shameless flirting to this, but then again she wasn’t complaining.
“Finally plucked up the courage to kiss me then,” she taunted breathlessly. “About bloody time, Sallow.”
His eyes flashed and she could see him grinding his jaw. He looked as though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to reprimand her or worship her. She figured that was what she’d been doing to him ever since she beat him in that duel.
Instead, he pressed his pelvis into her, grinning in delight as her eyelids fluttered. “Oh, there’s no need to tell me that you want me, darling; I can feel it.”
And she gasped again as he bit down on her neck, continuing to grind his rock hard bulge over the wet patch steadily forming on her skirt. Her head was swimming with pleasure and she lifted her right leg to wrap it around him, pulling him into her and thrusting forward to meet him. He growled in surprise, and it was so guttural and indecent that she swore she started gushing.
He pulled back out of her grip, looking like a savage mess in the candlelight. “Fucking hell, you devilish imp.” He shook his head, turning and clearing a table, sending the contents crashing to the floor. “Come here,” he said roughly.
She practically flew over and sat on the table, opening her legs to let him closer.
He chuckled, pulling her closer to the edge so they were flush together. “Eager little thing, aren’t we?” he said into her ear as he nibbled the sensitive skin around there. “Funny – this was supposed to be a punishment but you seem to be enjoying yourself far too much.” He lifted his head to look at her, one of his hands grabbing her hair and pulling it back roughly so her neck was exposed. “Say you’re sorry.”
She shook her head and he pulled her hair tighter.
“Say it,” he said, grinding out the words through gritted teeth.
She grinned darkly. “Never.”
He let out a strangled yell and slammed her down on the table, his hand back at her throat, his other hand pinning her wrists above her. She trembled with pleasure at how much she was infuriating him and she felt her pussy throb as he pressed himself into her.
He looked at her almost desperately. “What do you want from me, huh? I’ve followed you around like a fucking Jobberknoll ever since you got here and you can’t choose me over a fucking goblin.”
She wasn’t entirely sure this was part of the game anymore as she looked into his eyes, wild with desire and so intensely vulnerable it almost hurt.
“Sebastian, I – ”
“What do you want?” he repeated weakly, his grip on her throat slackening. “Is it Weasley, because – ”
“Weasley?!” she scoffed, suddenly finding her voice. “Sebastian, have you gone utterly mad.”
She wrenched her arms out of his grip and pulled herself upright on his robes, bringing her face very close to his.
“Now you listen to me very closely, Sallow, because I am not the type of woman to repeat things twice, okay?”
He nodded numbly.
“I do not want Weasley. I do not want Leander. I do not want Lodgok for that matter, if that’s what you’re insinuating –” His body was stiff as he watched her ramble “– but oddly, what I do want,” she pressed on loudly as a blush crept over her cheeks, “is you, you stupid idiot – I mean, how many times do I have to fly to fucking Feldcroft to convince you of that – ” She broke off, breathing heavily and avoiding his eye.
There was a pause and he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Well, good,” he said finally, “because Weasley’s a fucking mug and – ”
“Oh my god,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Shut-up,” he growled, stepping closer to her. “What I’m trying to say is that – well – this means you do like me then?”
“Unfortunately for me,” she said dryly.
He swatted her but looked much happier than he had the merest of seconds ago.
She huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t know why you had to make me say it like that and ruin a perfectly delicious moment.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, a delicious moment was it?”
“Shut up,” she said, grinning and blushing harder.
“No, no, please, tell me more.”
“Absolutely not.”
But he brought himself closer in between her legs again and she gasped as she felt his bulge against her once more.
“Merlin, you’re still hard!”
“Mmmm,” he said, nuzzling her neck again. “How could I not be?”
She squirmed. “Stop teasing me, Sallow.”
“Oh, but I must,” he whispered along her jawline and down her neck. “I need something in return for all your insolence.”
So, he’d circled back to that then. She suppressed a grin, thinking just how bloody unhinged the boy really was and silently thanking Merlin and all the gods on high for it.
“Isn’t that what you want, Sebastian,” she said savagely. “After all, didn’t Ominis say you ‘never back down from a fight’?”
His eyes darkened and he pulled her forward off the table by her tie. She stumbled slightly, but he didn’t notice, ripping her school robe and blazer off her. She wasn’t wearing a chemise and her nipples were peeking through her school shirt. He bent down and took the left one in between his teeth, nipping it harshly and drawing a moan from her. It was too easy. One quip back and he was ready to slaughter her. That was why they were meant for each other – he knew how to play, Sebastian Sallow.
“On your knees,” he ordered.
He pushed her down when she didn’t move, her knees banging on the stone floor. He circled her as she kneeled, looking up at him innocently.
“You will obey,” he said quietly, and he moved to pull her arms roughly behind her. “Incarcerous!”
She felt thick ropes bind her wrists, slicing into her skin. It was painful and delicious and she wanted more.
“Is that all you’ve got,” she taunted.
He stood in front of her now, staring down at her with a frown. “If you won't say that you're sorry, then say you’re mine.”
She smiled. “No.”
He grabbed her face roughly. “Say. You’re. Mine.”
She shook her head. He studied her intensely for a moment before releasing her face.
“Fine.”
He turned away from her and she mewled in disappointment.
“There’s no use playing this game with me thinking I won’t punish you,” he said, shrugging off his school robe and throwing it to the side. “I’m a man of my word, after all.” He walked back to stand in front of her and unbuckled his belt. “It seems that you’ve forgotten, but devilish imps get their faces fucked.”
She nearly creamed in her knickers at his words and watched, drooling, as he pulled his trousers down. His cock was straining hard against his underwear and he palmed himself through the material, watching her with a smirk.
“Now, now, don’t gag before I’ve even put it in” he said. His eyes trailed over her, thinking, and he knelt down and lifted the collar of her shirt, pulling her tie up and tucking it below the cotton. “Now, this is far too many layers.” And in one quick rip he pulled the shirt apart, the buttons popping off and clattering into the corners.
She gasped in pleasure as he pushed the shirt down over her shoulders and bit her on one side, then the other.
“Far too many layers,” he repeated. “But this –” He turned the tie backwards and pulled it up, choking her “ – we’ll keep. Yes?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
He chuckled and kissed her hungrily again before standing up. He pulled his underwear down and his cock sprang free. She gulped audibly. It was long and thick and so very hard she wondered if she’d be able to take it.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered, and like the slut she was she obeyed.
He guided the tip of his dick into her mouth, moaning as she suckled on the head, lapping on it greedily.
“That’s it baby,” he said, breathing heavily. “Now, take it all for me.”
And he pulled the back of her head towards him as he thrust into her mouth down to the hilt. He groaned as she gagged on him, pulling out slowly and slamming back in again. She looked up to see his eyes rolling back into his head, muttering a string of profanity,
“Fucking take it – that’s it –”
And he began fucking her mouth, slow, and then fast, holding her head to keep her from moving backwards, relishing in her gags and grunting when she moaned. Whenever she gagged too hard, her throat closing, he’d pull on the tie, choking her and keeping himself there until she relaxed, praising her for taking his dick, calling her his good girl, sending her quite frankly fucking crazy and her cunt in dire need of attention.
“Good. Girls. Don’t. Say. No. ” He grunted with each thrust. “Good. Girls. Obey.”
He pulled out and she gasped for air, coughing and spluttering on the floor, her knees protesting in their sandwiched position. But no sooner had she taken in a gulp of that sweet oxygen and his lips were on hers again. They kissed feverishly, tongues battling for dominance.
“You liked that didn’t you,” he said after, grinning devilishly as she nodded. “That’s what I thought – devilish imp through and through.”
“Sebastian, please –” she gasped, nearly grinding on the floor “– I need –”
“What?” His hand went to her throat. “What do you need?”
“I need – you, fuck – please.”
It was enough for him, and he vanished her bindings in an instant, pulling her to her feet. He pushed her across the room, against the table and down on her back again, lifting her knees from below and pushing her thighs open. The table was just the perfect height for his cock to slide into her. She figured she must have looked a state: her hair messed up; tears streaked down her face; her lips as swollen and ripe as a peach; her skirt bunched up around her waist.
Sebastian seemed to think it too, smirking as he raked his eyes over her body. “So pretty and all mine.”
He drew his hands down the backs of her thighs closer towards her centre, covered only by a flimsy scrap of soaked material. He thumbed up the edges of the material, watching in reverence as her pussy throbbed beneath the cotton.
“Merlin,” he breathed, “I need to see you.”
He thumbed below the material and pulled it to the side, moaning softly as he looked at her. There was something like worship in his eyes and he bent down closer, pulling apart her folds. It was exquisite. Her pussy throbbed with every breath she felt across it, dripping in anticipation.
“Please –” she begged.
He didn’t need telling twice, his mouth on her, his tongue pressing into her as deep as it could go. She gasped and moaned as he licked up and down her folds, finding her nub and sucking on it. He stopped, pulling apart her pussy again with his fingers to look.
“Merlin,” he muttered, looking up at her almost shell-shocked. “I finally understand the term honey-trapping.”
She laughed. It was a powerful feeling, having Sebastian Sallow between her legs. She knew it was something many a girl in their year had likely imagined while they rubbed themselves to sleep.
“And this body,” he continued, now pressing his hands all over her fervently and grasping her breasts with both palms. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, causing her to arch her back. “I quite frankly never expected this under all those robes.”
“Sebastian,” she said through gritted teeth, as her pussy clenched particularly strongly over nothing, “get on with it.”
He grinned up at her, suddenly looking as boyish as the day they met. “Needy little one aren’t we. I just need to hear you say it first.”
“Say what,” she whined, trying to kick her legs but he held her down.
“That you’re mine.”
She growled, fighting him, but he lay on top of her, turning his left arm to barricade her legs, his right reaching down to tickle at her entrance. She stopped struggling, quivering with anticipation as he stroked his index finger up and down her folds.
“My, my, so wet,” he said, and she moaned as he dipped his finger in lightly. “Say it.”
“I – no – ”
“Say it.” He fingered her deeper now, twisting his finger with each pump, feeling her walls clench around him.
“Aah – Sebastian –”
“Say it.” And he pushed two fingers in her now, deep as they could go; drawing a groan so guttural from her she was very nearly embarrassed. “Or you’re not getting this cock.”
“Fine,” she yelled, panting and clenching around his fingers. “I’m yours you bastard! I have been from the start and –” She stopped, breathing heavily, and looked into his eyes. “I always will be.”
He smiled at her, drawing his fingers out, ignoring her mewl, and pulled her in for a kiss so tender, so full of everything unsaid that it took her breath away. He leant his forehead against hers.
“And I’m yours,” he said gently, “you know – if you’ll have me.”
“Well I should bloody well hope so,” she grumbled, and he chuckled.
“Now, where were we?”
“FUCKING, I SHOULD HOPE SEBASTIAN!”
He chuckled again, unable to keep the grin off his face. “Stop being such a brat.”
“Make me.”
He looked at her darkly and pulled her closer to the edge of the table again. His cock, which had stayed hard the whole time, precum milking from the top, twitched in his hand as he slapped it on her pussy. He lined up at her entrance and pushed into her slowly, groaning. She moaned and arched her back.
“Fucking hell you’re tight,” he said, his head falling back in pleasure as he pressed as deep as he could go. “Merlin – ”
“Aaah, fuck me Sebastian – please – ”
He started pumping in and out of her, slow at first then building up a steady rhythm, stretching out her pussy with grunts until he was slamming into her down to the hilt. She was moaning with each thrust, the feeling beyond anything she could have ever imagined, his hands grasping her hips to pull her towards him over and over and over again.
“That’s. My. Good. Girl,” he panted with every thrust. “Take. That. Dick. Come all over my cock.”
She knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. From the way his cock grew even angrier; from the sweat cascading down his forehead; from the feverish look in his eyes and the sloppiness off his thrusts.
She gasped as he slammed into her particularly deep and he groaned into her mouth as he claimed her in a kiss.
“Sebastian,” she breathed. “Touch my clit.”
He bit her lip, sucking it into his mouth. “Yes mam,” he said, moving to thumb her clit and resuming his thrusting with vigour.
Something flamed within her at his touch and her walls began to clench tighter around him.
“Fuck – baby – I can’t much longer,” he grunted, pumping into her sloppily.
“Stay there – stay there – stay – ”
She let out the loudest moan yet as her walls clenched and the dam broke and she came in a screaming shuddering orgasm around him. He yelled out her name as his thrusts grew even sloppier and he came himself, spilling his seed in her. He pulled her close, holding himself as deep in her as he could as his cock pulsed and a number of sounds that could only be described as animalistic fell from his mouth.
He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. Her walls fluttered around him in the aftermath of her orgasm, his cock twitching in response. They rested like that in silence for a bit; content, together, his cock still inside of her, his head resting on her breasts. She stroked his hair softly, weaving it between her fingers the way she knew he liked.
Some-time later, he turned his head, placing a tender kiss on her breast bone and gently pulled out. It felt empty without him, and she knew from then on, watching him push his hair off his sweaty face, that she’d follow him anywhere – into any sodding village; through any bloody mine; down into any creepy catacomb.
He caught her eye and smiled
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I am sorry.”
She gasped, swatting him on the arm. “Sebastian Sallow! Now you tell me?!”
And they laughed, carefree and content; the sound falling through the air like heat and glitter.
Florets of lilacs
The Celtic man sings loud and
Proud of the highlands