Mature content ahead. The mention of knives, and blood may be upsetting. Please read with caution.

_____

Draco pushed her forward a bit. Intimidating her to the brim as her eyes widened at every twitch in his muscles. He was furious with her. She could tell.

''I asked you a question, Clarke.'' He gritted, his jaws sharp, ''I asked you a fucking question, and when I do that, you—''

''Answer...'' Isla breathed, her body stiffened at the way he was squeezing her flesh. His hands bored and drilled into her. His breaths were hot on her shoulder. His eyes so intense that she couldn't breathe at the closeness of him — and she wasn't even looking at him, ''When you ask a question, I answer.''

''You do,'' He said, lowly and deep. She shivered, ''You do answer when I ask you something, Clarke. I think we both have established how I am all for punishment. Don't push me.''

Push him. Push him. Push him.

That was all her mind could reach as she tried to yank out of the grip he kept on her. Forcing herself out of his arms and turning around. She didn't stand a chance. Too tired. Too drained of strength. Isla couldn't distance herself even if she wished to do so.

''I said—'' He grunted, pinning her arms down by her sides now, still standing firm and solid behind her. He didn't allow her to move an inch, ''Don't fucking test me, Clarke. I'll make you regret it.''

Test him. Test him and test him again.

Isla wished she had the courage to do that. To test him and to push him, and to stretch his limits. Somewhere she knew that he'd let her do that. He'd let her test his boundaries. She knew he would.

''What if I want to regret it?'' She let out, hesitant yet so filled with will.

He hissed. Drawing a breath through his teeth at her choice of words, but the second she indeed spoke those terms — let go of her. Causing her to finally turn around and face him, ''You don't.'' Draco declared, hard, ''You don't want to regret it, because when you do — there's no turning back. You know that, Clarke.''

She knew that. Of course, she knew that.

If she let herself loose with Draco again, she wouldn't be able to stay away. Neither would he. He would become feral, untamed around her. It took almost everything the blond owned not to kiss her as they stood there. Close in his library at the early hour.

He wanted to let all his fears go, but he couldn't.

''Draco...'' It was a sweep of hurt in her voice. A coat of regret in her eyes. Something heavy, ''I—''

''Go back upstairs,'' Shifting around from her, he shook his head. Looking over everything he'd researched in there. It wasn't what she thought. He didn't need to read her mind to understand that this was her thinking that he was looking for revenge. Draco was honest about his past. What he'd been through. The reason his house was painted all red.

She had her suspicions, he believed. If he only knew just how wrong he was.

Her heart pounded. Crashing and thrashing around in her chest. She wanted to say something more. To ask more, but she didn't dare to. He didn't want her there.

''Clarke,'' He muttered at her silence. Yet failing to look at her, ''Just go back upstairs. Go get a few hours of sleep and then leave.''

She didn't want to. She wanted to hear what this was, what he'd been doing in there. Why there were meters and feet of research, but she was scared. Scared that he'd search her head if she were too obvious.

She'd lost him enough already. She couldn't afford to lose the little pieces of him that were still resting with her.

So Isla did what he told her to do. She left. She walked out without speaking another word, and Draco huffed behind her as she did.

Closing the door with a swift twitch of his wand, he dragged his hands through his hair. Defeated. That's what he felt. Yet, he was pleased that this was what she saw. That she didn't see more of what he'd done.

She only saw the beginning of it. Something he gave up on months ago, even before he got to know her. Draco indeed studied the Weasleys. He scanned every piece of information there was to find about them, but he let that rest as he returned to school at the end of summer. Hoping that this year and his duties once he was meant to leave — would heal the wounds he didn't even know he had.

They didn't, and when he traveled back home over Christmas break, it turned too overwhelming, seeing everything he'd done when he lost them. So he decided to tell her. To spill his deepest, darkest secret to Isla in the hopes of feeling better, and he did.

She made him feel better. Warmer. Happier. Calmer. She made him feel okay. It was alright to be sad with her, and then he let her down again. He didn't return to school until weeks after, and he saw them together.

She was happy. She looked happy. She is happy.

Theodore made her happy. He took great care of her, and he tried to let it be that way. He tried so hard to leave them to it and distance himself. But he couldn't. She had already snuck her way into his life, crawled her way beneath his skin.

And then he had to leave. If it weren't for the fact he got expelled — he would still leave. He had stayed longer than he was allowed to, and it was his turn to walk away.

But what Isla didn't know — what he'd never admitted to and what he was so relieved she didn't see, was what he'd been doing the weeks he'd been home.

The research of the Weasleys indeed placed on that library floor, but only because he was terrified that he would betray his family if he put it away. It had laid there, collecting dust for almost a year without him touching it. It just felt comforting, knowing that all the books and newspapers still splayed out on his floor.

That wasn't what bothered him.

Taking a few steps further into the library, behind a massive bookshelf was another table. He stared blankly at it. Tracing the tip of his wand across the wood as he slipped down the chair.

He'd been researching something, but not what she would ever think.

In secret and for weeks, ever since she slept in his lap on the couch in the common room — Draco had been helping her. He knew a lot about laws and rules. His father did a lot of work along the lines of the ruling and regime before he passed, and Malfoy was more than certain he could be of help in Leo's trial. He knew he could. He just didn't want her to know what he did.

Draco wished to figure everything out for her — come up with a plan and then anonymously give it to her. He didn't want to take more part than that. He didn't want to be more involved. He would fall for her altogether if he did — he could feel it.

The night he found her on that couch. The night he realized what she was staying awake for, he had, hours prior to that, walked to her room but was stopped by the sobs echoing down the corridor. Isla was comforting Leo. She was speaking, whispering, reading, singing to the boy she cared about, and if he weren't as stubborn as he lived to be — he'd fall for her right there and then.

The way she cared. The way she did everything for her friends torched fire following fire within him. She made him so warm because she cared for him in that way. He just didn't see it until she was seated in his arms, nestled up next to him, and she told him that she admired him.

He fell. Draco fell, and he crashed, and he spiraled. He fell for her in ways he didn't know was possible to fall for another.

It wasn't anywhere near what it was with Pansy. With Pansy, he barely had a choice. They got together at a young age, and he loved her. He truly did. That girl helped him through more than he could ever ask for, but it turned one-sided. She ever so claimed that he took her for granted when she did more than the same.

She didn't see him anymore. When his parents died — she stopped seeing him. She was there. She was close, but she wasn't. She wasn't there. She could look right at him, yet it felt like she saw right through him, and he hated himself for that.

Draco blamed himself. He loathed every span of fiber in his own body for becoming irrelevant to her.

They hurt each other. They wanted different things. They weren't meant to be. They had their life together, and he wouldn't change that for the world, but he wasn't wanted anymore.

He wasn't missed nor longed for, and he tried. Oh, how Malfoy tried to be what Pansy needed him to be, but the instant he leveled with her expectations — she raised them, and he was falling helpless into that hole he'd spent all his strength digging himself out of.

Now that hole barely existed anymore because of her. Isla.

She came into his life like a thunderstorm. She messed everything about him, up. Every little thing she made him question and even if she fought him — even if he fought her. Even if there was more yelling and shouting exchanged between them than actual words, he felt what he never felt with Pansy.

Isla wanted him. Isla not only fought him, but she also fought for him, and he never had that. Draco didn't know what it felt like to be wished and wanted in the ways she did. He could hurt her, hell he'd done nothing else but hurt her, yet she came back.

Every last time he pushed her away, she came back. Isla would always come back for him, which scared him, so he took what he felt like he could take.

He slept with her.

He made it sexual because he was scared. In that way, he could have small bits of her. Tiny pieces that if he felt empowered enough, he could level a bit broader, and he did. He stayed a little longer afterward, he made conversation, he kissed her properly, he hugged her, she held him, he spent time with her without any physical touch at all, and he liked it. He adored it.

Draco adored watching her sleep. He couldn't drag his eyes off of her when she did. Beautiful, he smiled to himself as he thought about it. She was beautiful, and he never told her. A little bit at the time. A little progress at the time not to get scared again. A little bit at the time not to get hurt — Draco allowed himself more of her.

Never did he think he'd do that after Pansy, but with Isla — with her, he felt safe doing so.

She was the sweetness in his bitter life.

Shaking his head and burying it in his palms, he looked across the table filled with laws, codes, and rules. He didn't want her to know. He didn't wish for her to know because he didn't want her to understand that there was as much as an ounce of good in him.

_____

The clock had turned past noon, almost an hour past the mark, and she turned around in his sheets. Tucking one hand underneath the pillow she laid on. Isla had managed to sleep a few hours. The exhaustion of nearly being awake for a whole twenty-four hours began to catch up to her, and even she wished for it or not — her eyes fell shut the second she returned to his room.

It scented like him. She liked it. She buried her nose deeper into the pillow just to feel it. It calmed her. It made it feel safe.

It wasn't until a knock struck the door about four hours later, she finally stretched tall on her legs and walked up to it. Her head clouded, dizzy almost as she wrapped her hand around the handle and swung it wide.

''It's your room,'' She tilted her head, looking at the boy standing in front of her, ''You don't have to knock.''

Draco narrowed his eyes in hers. Glaring at her through the squint until he murmured, ''What if you would've been...it's not appropriate.''

''Nothing you haven't seen before,'' She tried so hard not to smile. Isla found herself funnier than she should have at that moment. It was the change in character that caused her lips to arch. How she once threw a tantrum because he stalked into her room unannounced, and now she was able to joke about it.

Draco's jaws clenched. He didn't look at her body. He didn't spare the nightdress she was draped in as much as a glare. One step at a time. He had those words on absolute repeat in his head, ''I got you something.''

She blinked. Backing up in reflex, ''You got me something?'' She sounded surprised, looking down at the bags he was holding, ''Oh?''

Draco rolled his shoulders, sighing at her as he walked into his room, throwing one bag onto the bed. He marched into the bathroom, coming out with towels and placing them next to the bag. Trying. He was trying. She could tell.

''I'm making dinner,'' Malfoy muttered, not looking at her at all anymore, ''Shower, come down to eat and then leave, Clarke.''

She could barely comprehend a thing before the door had been shut, and she was standing alone again. Isla looked around the room. Nearly in need to pinch her own arm to see if she was dreaming.

Draco was short and cold with her. That wasn't a secret. She lived to be more than used to it, but this was something else. He was too cold, too short. She didn't recognize it.

She didn't quite dare to look inside the bag at first. She grabbed the towels and took a shower, cleaning herself up as she realized he'd bought her shampoo. He had got the things he knew she used while showering. Not a thing was in the wrong. He got it all right. She never knew he paid attention to that. It never clocked her that he knew about the things standing in her shower.

And he didn't. Draco simply knew exactly what she scented like, and he went from there. He got it all right. Spotless and correct.

Even the lotion she would stroke across her body afterward he bought. Not owning a clue that he even left his Manor in the first place, she smiled to herself.

Isla walked out of the bathroom, aiming for the bag on the bed, but she hesitated again. She didn't know if she wanted him to do all this for her. Not knowing why he did it. He wanted her to leave. He didn't want her to stay there.

Yet he got her everything she could possibly need, and he placed it next to his own things in his shower. It looked so normal. Like they lived together almost. He just settled it all there so effortlessly. It made her warm. It made her keep that smile. A simple gesture like this one caused her heart to beat a little harder.

Her fingers traced over the bag as she lifted it, looking inside, and she gasped.

The clothes fell over the bed.

A dress. A beautiful black, silky dress. She smiled again. It looked so much like the one he bought for the masquerade once, but shorter, more elegant. He bought her a dress again. Her heart didn't beat anymore. It pounded so roughly that she was scared it would break her ribs.

The next thing robbing her attention was the set of lingerie lying next to the dress. She couldn't breathe anymore. It was so beautiful. Red and lace. The same red color that coated the entirety of his home. Thinking that might be his favorite color, she slipped it on. Dropping the towel she carried and she let the dress slide across her.

Perfect. It fitted her so spotlessly.

Then with that rush still forcing through her veins, she walked downstairs. It was dark outside. She'd stayed longer than she meant to. It made her feel embarrassed. He didn't want her here, yet he did. He told her to leave, but he showed her to stay.

Her smile faded as she walked into the kitchen. It ached within. She didn't know why, but the way he was standing over the stove — his shoulders low, his head dropped between them. She could see from a distance how tense he was, how the black suit strained across his clothed spine. Nervous. He was nervous. He'd never done this before, and she could tell.

Her heavy breath caught him off guard as he flung around.

His eyes locked in hers for a split second. It was all he gave before he turned back around. Biting his own lip, not to groan at the way she was looking. Even if he stared at her so briefly — she saw the oceans of lust and longing in his pupils.

Isla looked away too. Scared to set him off again as she strolled closer, settling her hands on the counter next to his, watching as he stirred a pot, ''Smells good,'' She whispered.

''It sure does,'' Draco mumbled back and gazing down at the pasta he was shoving around. He didn't mean the food. The food smelled fine, but she — she scented like everything he didn't know he adored. Every time she stood close, he felt it. His knees weakened.

''Can I do anything?'' Her fingers silently tapped against the red-painted marble, and he sucked in a harsh breath, peering over his shoulder to see her bare arms. Her chest slightly rose and fell beneath the inky silk he'd gotten her.

Nodding towards the bowl holding across the counter, before reaching for the milk bottle and the flour, ''Stir it, will you?'' He huffed out annoyingly.

Isla tipped her head, her hair leaking across her shoulders, and he could implode right there and then. His veins popped out across his arms out of how hard he had to grip the counter not to lose control.

Don't look at her. Don't look at her. Don't look at her.

That was all that went through his head, over and over. He couldn't afford to look at her.

''Like this?'' Fucking hell. She was standing with her legs slightly crossed. Her collarbones were put on display for him. He couldn't breathe.

''Mhm,'' The tension was so thick now. He didn't spare her as much as a glance. Hooking all that was left of him at the pot, ''Just like that.''

Shivers ran down her spine. His voice was so low. So raspy. So everything she loved when it was. So hard. His vocals were so hard that they could break her.

It turned silent again. Only the boiling water and his weighted breathing were heard as she tilted her head to see him again. It never stopped mesmerizing her how beautiful he was. That sharp curve of his jaw fused with his outlined cheekbone. It stole the air from around her.

''More?'' Isla placed the bowl back onto the counter, ''It looks—''

''It's fine,'' Draco cut her short, reaching to grab the bowl, and when he did. His hand brushed along the length of her fingers. He froze. For one single second, he froze.

''Draco—'' Isla tried to touch his hand, but he was so quick to withdraw, and with a blink of her eye — he was back in front of the stove.

''What?''

She backed up, leaning her spine against the counter behind him instead. He clearly wished for space, and she wanted to give it to him, ''Thank you.''

He froze again. His movements were restrained. If she didn't know any better, she would believe the seams of his jacket would crack, ''For what?''

His voice was so hard again.

''For what you got me....'' Her skin blushed, ''For letting me in.''

Draco stayed silent. Only the light from the fan above his stove lit up the room. It silhouetted him so perfectly that she needed to swallow.

''Yeah?'' Malfoy finally let out, ''I still want you to leave.''

''I know,'' She said quietly, ''I will.''

''Good.''

''Good.''

Isla stood there, admiring him for another moment before walking closer again. She settled next to him, right where she was before, ''Do you want me to go now?''

''Try this,'' Draco ignored her, stretching a spoon up between them, still not looking at her. It wasn't until she failed to take the spoon and she dipped her finger into the sauce he was offering her, his eyes, at last, snapped to hers.

''Mhm,'' Isla hummed, her finger in between her lips, ''Taste it yourself.''

Draco was breathless. Wordless. He just stared at her finger, once again coated in the sauce as she took it closer to his lips, ''Clarke....''

''Just try it,'' A curl came across her mouth, and she smiled, ''It's just food, Draco.''

Malfoy debated so hard within the coat of his skin if he would be strong enough to pull away once her finger was in between his lips. He wouldn't. He knew he wouldn't. He was so weak when it came to her.

He couldn't resist. He couldn't. He just caved as her finger slipped into his mouth, and he let his tongue graze across it. Her stomach flipped. Something so wild began to wave within her.

Locking eyes. Staring at each other with only the space of a breath between them, she gulped. Swallowing so had that it hurt.

He shouldn't. He shouldn't. He shouldn't.

Fuck it.

''What's the matter, Clarke?'' Draco rose a provoking brow, mocking her, ''A bit warm, are you?''

She tried to answer. She really did, but his fingers wrapping around her wrist, slowly stroking down the span of her arm. Now Isla was the one not being able to breathe.

''I don't—''

''Yeah?'' His stare was dangerous now. Thirsty and starving for everything she was, he kissed the pad of her palm slowly before running his tongue across it, up her fingers until he placed them between his lips again, ''You don't what?''

Isla only gasped at how his teeth sank into her limb, squealing and trying to yank away, but his arm slithered around her waist, keeping her in place, ''That dress....'' He mumbled, letting her finger go and pressing her up against the counter behind them, ''That fucking dress, Clarke.''

He was losing control now.

Isla's skin lit on fire. She was heaving out of the intensity he poured, ''You have good taste—''

Draco smirked, ''I do, but not in dresses, Clarke.'' He meant something completely different, and without speaking it, she caught on. She didn't think her cheeks could burn more than they did.

Hovering over her, one of his hands stayed on her jaw while the other dropped to the counter behind her, gripping the edge of it so tightly and without any reason. Her own hands found the wood, but as she was meant to push upon it — he kept her in place.

Draco didn't let her move.

''You don't—'' Hissing his words, he couldn't stand the tension between them anymore as he grabbed her by her shoulders and he forced her around, ''You don't get to fucking move without me saying so.''

Isla whined. Her body shook. Oh, how she'd missed this, ''I don't have to listen to you,'' She breathed.

''Yeah? What do you want, Clarke....'' He hummed dangerously into the back of her head. His arms stayed on her waist, feeling, relishing the sense of her as she pushed against him, ''Tell me what you want, witch.''

Isla tried to turn around, to rip him off the power he held when it came to her, but the second her palms pushed into the table to earn her strength back — Draco caught her wrists, and he pinned her arms over the wood.

Nailing her down forcefully as he chuckled so darkly at the way her body had to arch now. She curved over the table, her chest heaving against it.

''Now what was that?'' He asked, lowly, across the shell of her ear as he towered her. His body weighted over hers, ''What the hell was that little stunt, Clarke?''

She gasped, her cheek pressed tightly into the table, and he let one of his own hands off her wrists, gripping the knife he meant to cut vegetables with instead. He brought it closer to her. Out of her sight, she could feel how he traced it across her spine.

''What did we say about questions, Clarke?'' Draco groaned, letting the tip of the knife skim over the silky material, ''When I ask you a God damn question—''

''I answer,'' She tensed the instant she felt him rip the back of her dress open, and he did so with the weapon in his hand, ''I answer. I answer. I answer—''

She screamed.

Isla whimpered out loudly at the stinging feeling in her neck. The silk slipped off her, falling to hang around her arms by its thin straps. He cut her. Draco accidentally cut her, but he didn't waste any time on it.

He kissed that place. He kissed it, over and over. He almost moaned at the metallic tang of her blood, ''A fucking goddess....'' Draco licked the soft spot of her skin, all the way up to her ear, ''My sweet witch....''

''Draco—'' Isla moaned out, feeling how he was so hard against her. Pushing the whole of himself against the back of her thigh, ''Please.''

Draco's body put so much pressure upon hers. She couldn't breathe. She didn't want to breathe. She just wanted him. All of him. All of Malfoy. Everything he was capable of giving her, she'd take.

''You're in my house now, Clarke....'' Keeping the edge of the knife, constantly sweeping across her back, he smirked, ''My house. My Manor. My rules. I'm going to ask you once, and once only. One chance to say no, one chance to end this, and we'll eat instead, pretending this never happened.''

She didn't have to think. She didn't want to think. She wanted him, ''I want you.''

Draco turned feral. He turned just as feral as he tried to tame himself from becoming. He dropped the knife, keeping one hand wrapped around her wrists as he unhooked the clasp of his belt, dragging it out of its loops.

Reaching forward, he sheeted her throat with the leather, ''You're mine now, Clarke. Mine to feast on. Mine to fuck. Mine to destroy and put together.''

That shook her. Electricity was shooting through her veins as she gasped at the belt tensing around her neck.

Malfoy kept a solid grip on her as her spine arched, his lips pushed into the back of her head, ''I'll hurt you. I will hurt you, Clarke, and you'll like it. You'll take it like the filthy fucking witch you are.''

She could barely nod. Barely breathe. He was choking her.

The knife was back in his hand, and he let go of her wrists, trusting that she'd keep them there, splayed across the counter, but he didn't stand not looking at her.

Thirsting to see every gasp fleeing her lips, every twitch in her eyebrows at what he planned to do to her. He turned her around, her spine struck the edge again, ''Fucking hell, you are unbearable. I can't think....'' Draco muttered along her collarbone, kissing her tender skin, ''So fucking irresistible....''

Her thighs clenched. The aching pain between her legs became overwhelming as he noticed, and he gripped her waist, letting go of the belt for a swift second to throw her up on the timber, making her collide roughly with it.

Draco bent over her, grinning at how much power he seized at this moment. She was barely undressed, and he already had her shaking, gasping for air.

''Please—'' Isla choked out, ''I need something. I want you.''

''And I'll give it to you, needy girl, but you need to have patience. I've barely touched you yet.''

Gripping the belt again, he strained it around her throat, yanking forward until she was sitting up, her palms forced into the counter for support behind her.

Malfoy strived in between her legs, making room for all of him as he felt her body moving against him. He wanted to take his time. To memorize and worship her as she so desperately craved the friction.

Isla, once again, tried to take control of him. Fighting the belt and his hands. He lost it.

Throwing her across his shoulder, a squeal fled her lips, and it wasn't until he dropped her onto the couch in the living room she dared to open her eyes again. He had enough of her trying to take control from underneath him.

''What was that, darling?'' His tone came out like a mock, taunting her lack of rule over him, ''Trying to make me beg for you, yeah?''

''I—''

He was on top of her now, adoring her trembling body beneath him, ''You want to...what?'' Smirking, he brought the knife up to her throat, holding it so close to where her pulse was hammering, ''Take control?''

Isla whined out. Feeling the tip of it as it stung into her skin again, ''Draco—''

It was too late. Far too late. He'd already begun. Her limbs shaking. Her eyes rolling at how he marked her. She didn't understand what was happening until he withdrew, rolling his tongue along the inside of his cheek, ''Draco, what did you—''

He let her loose for so a second, allowing her to tip her head and look down at the piece of art he'd made. She blinked. She blinked so quickly that tears formed.

D.L.M

Draco had carved the initials of his name right below her collarbone. One drop of blood slipped down the redness. Isla couldn't comprehend. She couldn't understand. All it did was burn. It burnt, and it stung, and it hurt, but not in a bad way — no.

''Sweet, yeah?'' Draco rose that mocking brow again, keeping his stare in hers as he felt the bulge in his pants almost aching now.

She looked like a temple. Something godly. Something not human with her hair spilled around her, her skin blushingly red. Her lips parted. The lingerie he so thoughtfully picked out for her. Hoping that he'd be the one to ruin it for her. Ruin her with it.

''You—'' Isla couldn't speak. Stuttering, her words wavered, ''You did—''

''Let me take the pain away, darling....'' Malfoy gripped the belt again, her thighs clenching around his hips as he pushed his palm with the leather into the armrest of the couch. She took the time to look around. She wasn't in there last night. She never saw that living room before, but it was beautiful, red, and warm. The fireplace was lit. Sparking in sync with their heavy breathing.

He reached over her head to the drink chart standing next to the sofa and the cubes of ice upon it, groaning at the thought of doing this to her. He placed one in his mouth, looking down at her will the lust of thousands in his eyes. It had her shaking.

Draco didn't speak much. He simply came down to where he'd carved her, and he pressed the cube against it. Isla gasped as he kept it there. Her nails digging into his dressed back.

''How does it feel?'' He mumbled, letting himself lower, trailing the ice down her chest, and with the assist of the knife, he snapped the stripes of her bra off before ripping it apart in the middle. It fell off her. Leaving her breasts bare and exposed for him.

She cried out. His mouth finding her nipple, and with the mix of the icing cold cube, his hands squeezing at her hip, the belt around her throat, and the stinging pain of what he'd done — she could faint.

It was too much. She'd never done anything like this before. She liked it. That was the worst part for her.

Isla praised the pain he put her through.

Traveling lower, the ice followed his mouth, down her chest, over her ribs until he reached the hem of the underwear he'd bought. His. His. His. It was his to destroy, and he did. Draco tore it to pieces, just like he'd done with everything else — just like he planned on doing with her.

She was shaking. Still shaking. She never stopped shaking. She wouldn't stop.

Looking up at her the whole time, he grinned, ''My sweet cunt,'' He stated. The hardness in his voice was back, ''My sweet fucking cunt. Mine.''

Nodding so quickly that it hauled at the belt, he let the melted ice out on the tip of his tongue, staring over the wet path he'd caused across her body. Isla wasn't even prepared when she felt his tongue lapping over her core. Her eyes rolled at the coolness of the ice, but he didn't stay there for long. Instead — he came back up to her.

''Open,'' He demanded, and she did, her lips divided. Draco kissed her, allowing her to feel herself and the taste of the ice he'd been dragging over her body. She moaned. Isla moaned sweetly into his mouth, ''Good, good girl.''

She was soaked. So wet, and he had yet failed to make any special effort in touching her cunt.

Isla tried to make him stay there. She wanted her lips to touch this. She wanted him to kiss her, but he didn't. Draco slipped down the couch again, but this time — this time, he dragged her body with him, and he fell to his knees on the floor.

Her spine struck the backrest, and his hands brought her thighs to rest on his shoulders, ''Mine,'' Was all he kept saying

''My whore.'' Draco spread her legs wide for him, kissing the insides of her thighs.

''My witch.'' He moved further down, so far down that her eyes rolled back again. Her fingers tugging at the blond strands of his hair. He moaned at the way her nails were digging into his scalp.

''My beautiful girl.''

Her breath hitched. She whined, and she whimpered as he licked stripe after stripe across her pussy. He'd been edging her, teasing her with both the knife and the ice for almost an hour. She wouldn't be able to contain herself.

Draco didn't show her any mercy. He sucked on her clit, licked, and nibbled until he believed she'd pass out. He kept her so close. Holding her waist so firmly against him that she didn't stand a chance. His tongue collected all of her, tasting and praising and honoring every cry she gave.

''You like my mouth on your cunt, do you, darling?'' He was taunting her once again. She couldn't answer. Between the tears now rolling down her cheeks to the moans falling from her lips, she couldn't breathe even, ''Wonder how you'd look with my cock inside you right now.''

''Draco!'' Isla screamed. She couldn't even feel her high coming. It surprised her. Ripped through her and shredded her without reason. Draco merely smirked at that. At how she was falling and crashing and crying on his tongue. Euphoria consumed her for a second, but he didn't stop.

Malfoy kept his mouth on her cunt, and he kept licking, kept abusing, ''Again.'' He said. Hard.

''I can't—'' Isla shook. Her hands found her own hair as she heaved, ''I can't—''

His finger pushed inside her. She wasn't prepared. She cried again. Tears streamed. Gasps echoed. Her sobs leveled the sparks from the fireplace.

It was so intense. She couldn't think. Her mind wasn't in contact with her body anymore. She was crashing again.

Draco plunged his finger in and out of her. His tongue flicking across her clit, ''Again.'' He wasn't playing around. He wanted to show her that this indeed was his to do as he pleased with. That she was his to do as he pleased with.

''Draco—'' Isla fell back, her spine arching back and forth over the backrest. She was moving along his mouth, fucking his face and his fingers, ''I can't—''

''You will,'' Draco mumbled, vibrations shot through her. His fingers soaked in all she was giving to him, ''You can and you fucking will.''

She did. Isla came again. He felt bad. Terrible for how her body was sinking into the couch as he drew back, looking at her with wide, still starving eyes.

Draco stood up, meaning to sit beside her, and the second he did — Isla forced his spine into the backrest. She straddled him in a rough move. Malfoy didn't even blink as he watched the knife in her hand. He smirked.

''Control is a funny thing....'' He lowly whispered, admiring her on top of him as he bucked his hip, letting her feel his erection underneath his pants, ''You think you have it, but you really don't, do you, Clarke?''

Isla's chest rose and fell in rhythm with her hammering heart. Yet failed to catch her breath from the orgasms he forced upon her, ''You don't own me.'' She said, meaning to sound severe, but he could read her better than anyone, ''You don't own me, Draco.''

''So this is what you want? You want to fuck me, but you don't want me to own you?'' He questioned, biting his lower lip as he watched her bring the knife to the buttons of his shirt, and she dragged the blade through all of them. Leaving his flexing muscles on display, ''Fuck me—'' He breathed silently, ''You're out on thin, very thin ice, darling.''

''Am I really?'' She was the one smirking now as she slowly pushed him to the side, still straddling him as he fell completely down over the sofa, ''Am I out on thin ice, Draco? Are you the one in control? You hurt me... you come running back, then you hurt me again... then you leave, and then you let me stay here....''

Her words drove him mad.

Isla let her tongue roll over his chest, down over his abs as she reached that solid v-mark at the end of his torso. Halting in her doings, she came up with something, ''You buy me all these things, and for what, Draco?'' She pushed the knife into his waist, grinning at him, ''Why would you do that if I wasn't the one controlling you?''

''Fuck!'' He grunted, doing everything he could to stand against the pain of her marking him now, ''You fucking slut—''

''Yeah?'' Isla stared at what she'd done, dragging her thumb across it and smiling up at him as she forced her finger into her mouth. She tasted his blood. Isla tasted his blood, and Draco ruptured. He'd never seen anyone like her before, ''You keep telling me that I am such a slut, Malfoy. You keep calling me a whore, a filthy witch... have you ever thought about the filthy witch you are for me?''

He whined out as he peered down at the blood coating his hip, ''Look at it,'' Isla chuckled, finding more and more confidence in what she'd done.

Draco's eyes grew wider. His lips parted in shock almost.

I.G.C

Her whole name was on there. She'd marked him just like he'd marked her, and if it would have been anyone else but her — he'd killed them for doing that to him. With his commitment issues, this wasn't something he would appreciate, but this he didn't mind.

Draco liked it.

''Now, we're even,'' She said, placing the knife beside her on the sofa, ''You scratch me. I scratch— Draco!''

She didn't stand a chance. He'd waited too long. He had teased her for too long, and now he was the one not being able to stand the tension. He gripped her by her throat, slamming his lips to hers without as much as a word.

He didn't have any patience left to spare. He lifted her. Wrapping her legs around him as he marched towards the stairs.

Neither of them knew if they'd make it up to his bedroom before they lost it. His mouth moved so hard against her. Frantic. Mad. Wild. Crazed. Neither couldn't get enough by the other.

She felt the soft taste of herself on his tongue as it battled hers. The taste of his blood lingered on her lips as he sensed it. They were messes. Complete maniacs for the other and in the maddest need of composure, but they didn't want it.

They liked it like this. They wanted it messy, out of range, and chaotic. They were chaotic. They loved being chaotic. It was the one thing working for them.

Her teeth crashed to his as she folded her arms around his neck, kissing him with everything she still had, ''I want you,'' She said, mumbling in the muffled sound of his grunting. He was carrying her up the stairs, debating in his mind if he could hold it all the way.

''I want you in my bed,'' Draco felt her lips moving away from his, traveling down his neck instead, her fingers clawing at the back of his head, ''I want you in my bed, Clarke. I want to fuck you in my sheets. I want you to fuck me on my mattress.''

She could come undone by those words. His words held her prisoner. She didn't stand one chance against his way of speaking.

''Then fuck me on your bed,'' Isla retaliated, breathing her tells into his ear, ''Fuck me on your bed. On your mattress and in your sheets. Fuck me, Draco.''

''Believe me,'' He chuckled at how eagerly she moved against him, lifting and sinking her hips over his clothed cock as he reached the top floor. He aimed for his door, feeling her hands slipping beneath his shirt that shill draped his arms, and she tugged it off him, ''I will.''

Draco booted his door open before throwing her onto the bed. His bed. He'd never been with anyone in his house before. Not like this. He'd never slept with anyone on this bed. He never wanted to, until now.

She bounced. Her bare frame was there. Her legs spread. Her eyes were hungry. Isla starved for him upon that mattress, and he craved to please her.

''Beautiful...'' He hummed, crawling on top of her as he unhooked the belt from around her throat, flinging it to the floor with a thud.

The room was dark, but he could see her perfectly. His. His. His. His Isla. His witch.

Isla's hands began to undo his pants, shoving them down his hips along with his boxers as he kissed her chest, propped up on his elbows, he sucked on her breasts again. She whimpered. Her fingers gripping his shoulders, and she forced him onto his back. She couldn't wait any longer. She was going insane.

''Clarke,'' He tried to warn her, but she didn't listen. Her hand fiddling between them, and she brought his cock to where she needed him to be. Grinding over him, ''Clarke, for fucks—''

Draco settled his touch on her hips, guiding her over him, ''You don't get to control me right now.''

''Why?'' She threw her head back, feeling how the tip of his cock teased her clit, driving her mad, ''I want to. I want you.''

''Is that what you want?'' He lifted her hips, placing her right above him. Beginning to dive inside her, ''You want to take control over me? You want to own me, darling?''

She nodded. She whined and nodded.

''That's what you want, yeah?'' He dove deeper, ''For me to call you mom? Call you mommy?''

Isla was shaking uncontrollably now.

''You want me to be your good boy, Clarke? Just like you're my good, good girl?''

''Yes!'' She was almost screaming, ''Say it,'' Her voice was demanding, pushing her palms into his chest as she stilled above him, ''Say it, Draco.''

''What?'' Malfoy sucked his inner cheek in, tauntingly, resting his arms underneath his head for a moment before he flipped them over. Being on top of her again, ''You want me to say it?''

Isla gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin. Blood began to sore, ''Say it. Please—''

Draco arched his neck, breathing into her ear, and the second he pushed inside her, filling her up with every inch of himself, he said, ''Mommy. I'm such a good boy for you, mommy. Aren't I?''

Isla moaned out, thundery yet so sweetly.

He didn't spare a beat of his heart. He pounded. Resting his forehead on the side of her head as he fucked her. And oh, how he fucked her.

The bed rattled. The sheets were ripped apart. He nailed her into that mattress with everything he had.

His cock stretched her, causing her to cry. Tears rolled down her skin, she screamed. Biting his neck to ease the loud sounds.

He fucked her so hard that she knew she would have trouble walking. She wouldn't recover from this. She was so tight and hot around him. So wet and all for him.

''My sweet little witch wants to be in control....'' He laughed darkly, ''Think you can do that, yeah?''

Isla was holding onto him, gasping out of control as he snatched her jaw, bringing her face to his and kissing her, ''Let me tell you something, Clarke.''

His muscles flexed against hers. His body was so covered in her. She was everywhere. He was everywhere, ''You can. You own me now.''

Malfoy was so deep inside her. She could almost feel him in her stomach. So fast. So hard. So rough. She'd never felt this, someone sleeping with her this way. This was something only he could do to her. Draco hit every single spot inside her at the same time. All at once. She couldn't focus. The pleasure was overwhelming.

He was kissing her. His lips pressed so tightly to hers as he said it, ''You own me. There will never be anyone after you.'' Draco stilled a bit, moving slower, ''You ruined me for everyone.''

''I want to own you,'' She heaved, her eyes rolling, her back arching, ''I want you.''

''You don't want me, Clarke. You need me.'' It was a statement, something he knew before speaking. His chest tensed against her and his breaths heaved over the shell of her ear, ''Say it.''

Her own breaths shifted so shallowly. Her soul nearly leaving her body. The hold he had of her hardened, gripped her rougher, ''Say it, Clarke. Say it, and I'm yours. Say it, and I belong to you, sex or no sex — choose me or don't, but I'll be yours no matter the fucking cost of it. Tell me that you don't want me. Tell me you need me.''

Isla tipped her head back, her hair chaotically tousled over the pillow. His eyes met hers. There was a swift breeze in them. Something so pure. He didn't want her anymore. He needed her. Malfoy needed her. Her. Her and only her.

The tips of her fingers brushed over his cheeks, sensing how he still moved inside her, but not like before. This was so emotional. This was something else. Something they'd never had before. He was feeling everything for her. He never did this, she could tell. She was it for him.

''I don't care if you need him too. I don't care who you choose. Just tell me you need me. Tell me we can have this, just a little piece of it. Please, Clarke — fuck, tell me you need me, and I'm yours.''

Draco was so close. He was crashing at any minute. It was torture moving so slow into her. Slow, slow, slow. Deep, deep, deep. It was so touching. So stirring as she kept looking at him. Their eyes never spaced. He looked at her. Admired her. He was begging her.

She was reaching her high too, ''I do,'' Taking his jaws in her hands and pushing her lips to his, ''I need you, Draco.''

That was all he needed. That was all they both needed as they became messes of moans and chaos. He filled her up, leaving himself inside her as the tears leaked from the lids of her eyes.

Draco didn't roll off her as he used to. He stayed there. The side of his head on her heaving chest. Her fingers fiddling with his hair. A moment of peace. Some comfort. He could hear the beat of her heart. The heart he once hoped to own — just like she owned his.

Isla needed him, and that was all Draco needed.

_____