Desired | Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott, 18+

50

The dress nearly flamed in a red shade. It was breathtaking as always. Like every other dress he'd gotten her, it was absolutely stunning.

Isla couldn't take her eyes off it even if she wanted to. It was mesmerizing to her, seeing how the red silk fell beautifully to the floor. All the other dresses he'd ever given her were black ones, but not this one, no.

This one was red, red as the entirety of his house, red as the crimson color of blood, red as the shade of cherries, red as the dark color of wine. She gasped.

''Mhm?'' Draco smirked, raising one brow, and he leaned his shoulder onto the doorpost. His towel hugged his waist loosely, ''Best one yet?''

''Draco...'' Isla spun around, her towel following, ''This is too much. You can't keep—'' She shook her head, ''You can't keep doing this, it's too much.''

He sucked his inner cheek in, still smirking at her as he began striding toward across the floor, making his way up to her. She tripped back, her spine striking the closet door in the process.

''I can't what? Buy you dresses?'' His voice was low and intimidating, pearls of water dripped down his hair, landing on his flexing chest, ''Buying you something and knowing that I can rip it off whenever I'd like?''

Isla let out a vague breath, her hands shaking as she gripped his upper arms, holding herself steady, ''I can do whatever I want, Clarke, and you'll take it because below all that denial you keep yourself so buried under, you enjoy it as much as I do. You want what I give to you.''

''Draco—''

''Yeah?'' He said, leaning forward so that the droplets of water fell to her skin, ''What is it with you and not being able to speak when I'm close, yeah? A bit nervous, Clarke, are we?''

She was. Oh, how she was nervous around him. She couldn't breathe. She simply stood there with her hands around his arms and her face so close to his. He huffed out a low chuckle, rolling his eyes at her silence, ''You better get ready, Clarke. Don't want to make us late... do you?''

Isla took a deep breath, feeling his hand as it dipped between them and slowly, at a painfully slow pace, traced up along her inner thigh, right where the towel edged, ''No,'' She choked out, weakly, ''I don't want to make us late.''

Draco smirked provokingly before he ripped their bodies apart, and he stepped back. His eyes traveled to where he'd carved his name in, and he could burst at the sight of it. While Isla took a quick look at the mark she'd caused him, and she smiled.

Her name looked shockingly good on his waistline, right where his v-mark cut through his toned muscles. Another shaky breath trembled from her chest, watching as he fell onto her bed behind him, propping himself up on his elbows.

''Am I the only one getting dressed?'' She crossed her arms, looking at him.

Draco rolled his tongue over his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes in hers, ''You are one beautiful girl, Clarke,'' He teased, shifting a bit in his position as his whole self angled for her to watch him, ''Don't mind if I watch while that dress slips on, do you?''

Isla looked away, her skin burnt, her cheeks growing red, ''You should get dressed too, Draco.''

''Mhm, in one....'' His eyes hungrily followed her every move, and he threw his head back, groaning lowly to himself as her towel dropped to the floor and she got dressed in her underwear, ''Fuck you.'' He muttered, inhaling sharply, ''You know what, Clarke? Fucking fuck you.''

''You already did,'' Isla didn't dare to look at him as she tried to mock him. She reached for the dress, threading it over her arms, ''Twice if I recall.''