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slipping_away18 February 1997. Slytherin dorms.
Miles hexes the door to the sixth year dorms, sealing it shut, and then casts an Imperturbable spell on the room, plucking his journal and his quill out of the air. "Good. I have your attention," he coldly says, and flings Theo across the room with a hex.
Theo's breath escapes in a whoosh as he hits the wall, and he wraps his arms around his stomach as he slides to the ground, coughing.
Miles slams his journal onto the desk next to Theo's and stalks across the room. "And now you have all of mine, you horrid, stupid pest." Miles hits Theo with another hex, one designed to hurt, because it only seems fitting.
Theo stares at Miles, his eyes watering. "Are you finished?"
Miles flicks his wand, and the spell wrenches Theo to his feet. "Are you ready to be honest?"
Theo sucks in a breath, his ribs and stomach aching as he's yanked to his feet. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"You hexed me and cost our House the game! Just bloody well admit it!"
Theo feels his mouth curl in a snarl. "Give me one good reason why I should."
Miles steps forward, his hand smacking the wall with a sharp crack, and crushes his mouth to Theo's, teeth cutting into Theo's lips.
Theo's breath rattles in his chest, and he clenches his hands in Miles' shirt, trying to marshal the strength to push him away.
Miles bites Theo's mouth near to bleeding and then the soft heat of his lips capture Theo's, Miles' tongue sliding into Theo's mouth as his fingers curl into Theo's hair. "Be honest about this," he breathes against Theo's mouth, eyes open to slits and searching Theo's face.
For a moment, Theo wants to confess that he's the one responsible, maybe even apologize. Instead, he shoves Miles back, giving Miles an angry look. "That's not good enough. I might be a whore, but I have standards."
"Oh, of course," Miles says, condescending and cold, his eyes slightly narrowed. He snaps a hand out, curling his fingers tight around Theo's throat, the heel of his palm digging hard into Theo's Adam's apple, and shoves Theo into the wall, pushing his knee between Theo's thighs. "You need this, don't you?"
Theo coughs against the pressure of Miles pressing against his throat, and his voice is breathless when he responds. "Is there something you're expecting to hear?"
"No." Miles' lips thin into a slim smile as he tightens his grip and skims his left hand down Theo's side, taking a long, curving path to Theo's groin. "Entirely unnecessary."
Theo looks straight at Miles, unblinking and fierce. "Stop. I don't want this."
Miles' fingers clench around Theo's throat, a reflexive, quick pulse as his expression shifts, flitting too quick across his face to pin. He abruptly releases Theo and turns away, catching his own shaky exhale and holding it in. He almost turns back, but then he straightens and retrieves his journal and quill. When he looks at Theo, it's with a disdainful, cold look. "Unlike you, I actually have standards." Then he turns, removing the hex from the door, and strides out.
Theo exhales a shaky breath and feels his legs fold, unable to hold him up. A moment later, he's standing, from adrenaline or anger, he's not sure. He snatches his wand from his bed and rushes after Miles. "What is wrong with you?"
Miles turns, eyes flashing and narrowing into a glare. "You."
Theo smirks. "You say I'm a whore. That I'm below your standards. And yet, you're still letting me get under your skin."
Miles' lips part, but then he shakes his head, flashing a smile that's tight and sickeningly polite, generally the one he reserves for his father's and aunt's guests. With nothing more to say and to further prove how beneath him Theo is, Miles turns and continues toward his room.
Theo clenches his hand around his wand, and he hates so much that his head pounds with it. How dare he treat Theo like he's nothing when Theo let him--he casts a hex without a thought, filled with a savage sort of glee when it hits its mark.
Miles stumbles, dropping his journal and quill as he tries to catch his balance. He slaps a hand against the wall to catch himself and whirls around, absolutely and violently furious.
"Don't you dare turn your back on me," Theo hisses, his eyes bright and his chest aching.
Miles hits Theo with a hex and stalks toward him when Theo's knocked off his feet. Miles' fingers are clenched tight around his wand and his voice is low and strained. "I'll do as I please, you—" Miles straightens, snapping a hand down his robe, and pointedly turns his back on Theo again.
Theo staggers to his feet in a fury, whispering hex after hex and watching in satisfaction as they hit Miles. He's the head of the Duelling Club for a reason, after all, and he brings all of his experience to this, with the single-minded desire to make Miles hurt as much as Theo is.
Miles is wrenched off his feet and lands on the floor, gasping. He feels another hex and another, and it only further infuriates him. He doesn't care what Theo wants anymore; he just wants to hurt him. He holds out his wand and flings Theo's hex back, quickly casting another to keep Theo unbalanced.
Theo sucks in a ragged breath, even though he would swear under oath that he wasn't close to crying, not in the least, and he knows it's stupid to challenge a seventh year, but he just can't help it. He wants Miles as much as he wants to hurt Miles, and he uses his wand to focus his rage.
Miles rushes forward, pushing Theo into the wall, and shoves down Theo's wand, scraping his knuckles against the rough stone as he snarls, "Enough, Theo."
Each breath is ragged and painful, and his rage vanishes as suddenly as it had come, leaving him cold and hollow. He tries to tug his hand away from Miles, but it's a half-hearted attempt.
"Don't you dare," Miles says, tightening his grip on Theo's wrist, his fingers stinging from the sudden clench. His blood pounds hard in his head and palms, each large, jagged breath forced and unsteady. He wants to ruin Theo, he's so furious, which makes the next thing he does utterly barmy. He kisses Theo, a firm, angry press of lips that's more punishment and tears at Theo's mouth with his teeth.
Theo remains quiet and still for Miles' kiss, each slice of Miles' teeth into his lips causing a strange, alien pleasure to skate over his skin. He parts his lips and leans into Miles, cheeks burning with shame as he waits for Miles to step back, to push him away and give another disdainful insult.
A low, frustrated sound rumbles up from Miles' throat, and he presses harder against Theo, slotting his knee between Theo's legs when Theo shifts forward.
Theo makes a pained sound, a breath that is just barely audible, and he clenches his hands into Miles' robes again, this time to yank him closer.
Miles slides a hand through Theo's hair, tangling his fingers deep in the strands, jerking Theo's head back only so he can lean closer, make the kiss rougher and harder. "Tell me you want this," he snarls.
Theo kneads the front of Miles' robes, looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Why?"
Miles' eyes flash, his expression twisting and then shifting again to another emotion, too quick to catch. H grabs Theo's hands, ripping them off his robes and slapping them against the wall. "I hate you," he says, and kisses Theo again, his teeth slicing Theo's lips and shredding the skin.
Theo gasps against Miles' mouth, the teasing sting of Miles' teeth. He arches against Miles to feel his warmth, his head buzzing with anger and lust and confusion.
Miles jerks away, the taste of Theo's blood lingering on his tongue, each jagged breath gusting over Theo's torn mouth. He stares at Theo, eyes darting quick over Theo's face, and Miles wants to say something horrid, hurt Theo back. He lifts his hand, skims his thumb across Theo's bottom lip, swiping away the beads of blood, pulling on the ripped skin. "I'm leaving," he says, voice hollow, his throat closing. He clears it, takes a breath, and then turns away.
Theo leans against the wall, catching his breath. he wants to call Miles a hypocrite, but instead he shakes his head. "Of course," he says instead, leaning down to grab the wand he had dropped when he held onto Miles instead.
Miles picks up his journal. His quill is lost somewhere, but he can't expend the effort to search for it, not with Theo behind him or with how weak his legs feel. "Of course," he echoes.
Theo hesitates for a moment, unsure what he wants to do, but one thing is clear—Miles says he's a whore, says he's beneath him, but Miles still wants him. Theo strides forward and grabs Miles' arm, swinging him around, and bends to take a hard kiss, ignoring the burn of his torn mouth.
Miles makes a choked, startled sound, hands clenching around Theo's arms for balance, his journal thumping to the floor. His head is buzzing, a breath caught in his throat, and for one blank moment, he holds onto Theo, accepting the warm curl of Theo's tongue.
Theo kisses Miles hard and hungrily, as if he can brand the feeling into Miles, and then pulls away, breathing heavily. He leans down and grabs Miles' journal from the floor, pressing it into Miles' hands.
Miles blinks, his vision focusing. Hew glares at Theo and knocks his journal out of Theo's hand, shoving Theo against the wall and claiming another rough, bruising kiss, fingers squeezing around Theo's pulse. When the flutter becomes a hard, insistent pound against the tips of his fingers, he pulls away. "You do want it," he says, and snatches up his journal, stalking away.
"Hypocrite." Theo shakes his head and goes into his dorm, shutting the door behind him.
Miles hexes the door to the sixth year dorms, sealing it shut, and then casts an Imperturbable spell on the room, plucking his journal and his quill out of the air. "Good. I have your attention," he coldly says, and flings Theo across the room with a hex.
Theo's breath escapes in a whoosh as he hits the wall, and he wraps his arms around his stomach as he slides to the ground, coughing.
Miles slams his journal onto the desk next to Theo's and stalks across the room. "And now you have all of mine, you horrid, stupid pest." Miles hits Theo with another hex, one designed to hurt, because it only seems fitting.
Theo stares at Miles, his eyes watering. "Are you finished?"
Miles flicks his wand, and the spell wrenches Theo to his feet. "Are you ready to be honest?"
Theo sucks in a breath, his ribs and stomach aching as he's yanked to his feet. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"You hexed me and cost our House the game! Just bloody well admit it!"
Theo feels his mouth curl in a snarl. "Give me one good reason why I should."
Miles steps forward, his hand smacking the wall with a sharp crack, and crushes his mouth to Theo's, teeth cutting into Theo's lips.
Theo's breath rattles in his chest, and he clenches his hands in Miles' shirt, trying to marshal the strength to push him away.
Miles bites Theo's mouth near to bleeding and then the soft heat of his lips capture Theo's, Miles' tongue sliding into Theo's mouth as his fingers curl into Theo's hair. "Be honest about this," he breathes against Theo's mouth, eyes open to slits and searching Theo's face.
For a moment, Theo wants to confess that he's the one responsible, maybe even apologize. Instead, he shoves Miles back, giving Miles an angry look. "That's not good enough. I might be a whore, but I have standards."
"Oh, of course," Miles says, condescending and cold, his eyes slightly narrowed. He snaps a hand out, curling his fingers tight around Theo's throat, the heel of his palm digging hard into Theo's Adam's apple, and shoves Theo into the wall, pushing his knee between Theo's thighs. "You need this, don't you?"
Theo coughs against the pressure of Miles pressing against his throat, and his voice is breathless when he responds. "Is there something you're expecting to hear?"
"No." Miles' lips thin into a slim smile as he tightens his grip and skims his left hand down Theo's side, taking a long, curving path to Theo's groin. "Entirely unnecessary."
Theo looks straight at Miles, unblinking and fierce. "Stop. I don't want this."
Miles' fingers clench around Theo's throat, a reflexive, quick pulse as his expression shifts, flitting too quick across his face to pin. He abruptly releases Theo and turns away, catching his own shaky exhale and holding it in. He almost turns back, but then he straightens and retrieves his journal and quill. When he looks at Theo, it's with a disdainful, cold look. "Unlike you, I actually have standards." Then he turns, removing the hex from the door, and strides out.
Theo exhales a shaky breath and feels his legs fold, unable to hold him up. A moment later, he's standing, from adrenaline or anger, he's not sure. He snatches his wand from his bed and rushes after Miles. "What is wrong with you?"
Miles turns, eyes flashing and narrowing into a glare. "You."
Theo smirks. "You say I'm a whore. That I'm below your standards. And yet, you're still letting me get under your skin."
Miles' lips part, but then he shakes his head, flashing a smile that's tight and sickeningly polite, generally the one he reserves for his father's and aunt's guests. With nothing more to say and to further prove how beneath him Theo is, Miles turns and continues toward his room.
Theo clenches his hand around his wand, and he hates so much that his head pounds with it. How dare he treat Theo like he's nothing when Theo let him--he casts a hex without a thought, filled with a savage sort of glee when it hits its mark.
Miles stumbles, dropping his journal and quill as he tries to catch his balance. He slaps a hand against the wall to catch himself and whirls around, absolutely and violently furious.
"Don't you dare turn your back on me," Theo hisses, his eyes bright and his chest aching.
Miles hits Theo with a hex and stalks toward him when Theo's knocked off his feet. Miles' fingers are clenched tight around his wand and his voice is low and strained. "I'll do as I please, you—" Miles straightens, snapping a hand down his robe, and pointedly turns his back on Theo again.
Theo staggers to his feet in a fury, whispering hex after hex and watching in satisfaction as they hit Miles. He's the head of the Duelling Club for a reason, after all, and he brings all of his experience to this, with the single-minded desire to make Miles hurt as much as Theo is.
Miles is wrenched off his feet and lands on the floor, gasping. He feels another hex and another, and it only further infuriates him. He doesn't care what Theo wants anymore; he just wants to hurt him. He holds out his wand and flings Theo's hex back, quickly casting another to keep Theo unbalanced.
Theo sucks in a ragged breath, even though he would swear under oath that he wasn't close to crying, not in the least, and he knows it's stupid to challenge a seventh year, but he just can't help it. He wants Miles as much as he wants to hurt Miles, and he uses his wand to focus his rage.
Miles rushes forward, pushing Theo into the wall, and shoves down Theo's wand, scraping his knuckles against the rough stone as he snarls, "Enough, Theo."
Each breath is ragged and painful, and his rage vanishes as suddenly as it had come, leaving him cold and hollow. He tries to tug his hand away from Miles, but it's a half-hearted attempt.
"Don't you dare," Miles says, tightening his grip on Theo's wrist, his fingers stinging from the sudden clench. His blood pounds hard in his head and palms, each large, jagged breath forced and unsteady. He wants to ruin Theo, he's so furious, which makes the next thing he does utterly barmy. He kisses Theo, a firm, angry press of lips that's more punishment and tears at Theo's mouth with his teeth.
Theo remains quiet and still for Miles' kiss, each slice of Miles' teeth into his lips causing a strange, alien pleasure to skate over his skin. He parts his lips and leans into Miles, cheeks burning with shame as he waits for Miles to step back, to push him away and give another disdainful insult.
A low, frustrated sound rumbles up from Miles' throat, and he presses harder against Theo, slotting his knee between Theo's legs when Theo shifts forward.
Theo makes a pained sound, a breath that is just barely audible, and he clenches his hands into Miles' robes again, this time to yank him closer.
Miles slides a hand through Theo's hair, tangling his fingers deep in the strands, jerking Theo's head back only so he can lean closer, make the kiss rougher and harder. "Tell me you want this," he snarls.
Theo kneads the front of Miles' robes, looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Why?"
Miles' eyes flash, his expression twisting and then shifting again to another emotion, too quick to catch. H grabs Theo's hands, ripping them off his robes and slapping them against the wall. "I hate you," he says, and kisses Theo again, his teeth slicing Theo's lips and shredding the skin.
Theo gasps against Miles' mouth, the teasing sting of Miles' teeth. He arches against Miles to feel his warmth, his head buzzing with anger and lust and confusion.
Miles jerks away, the taste of Theo's blood lingering on his tongue, each jagged breath gusting over Theo's torn mouth. He stares at Theo, eyes darting quick over Theo's face, and Miles wants to say something horrid, hurt Theo back. He lifts his hand, skims his thumb across Theo's bottom lip, swiping away the beads of blood, pulling on the ripped skin. "I'm leaving," he says, voice hollow, his throat closing. He clears it, takes a breath, and then turns away.
Theo leans against the wall, catching his breath. he wants to call Miles a hypocrite, but instead he shakes his head. "Of course," he says instead, leaning down to grab the wand he had dropped when he held onto Miles instead.
Miles picks up his journal. His quill is lost somewhere, but he can't expend the effort to search for it, not with Theo behind him or with how weak his legs feel. "Of course," he echoes.
Theo hesitates for a moment, unsure what he wants to do, but one thing is clear—Miles says he's a whore, says he's beneath him, but Miles still wants him. Theo strides forward and grabs Miles' arm, swinging him around, and bends to take a hard kiss, ignoring the burn of his torn mouth.
Miles makes a choked, startled sound, hands clenching around Theo's arms for balance, his journal thumping to the floor. His head is buzzing, a breath caught in his throat, and for one blank moment, he holds onto Theo, accepting the warm curl of Theo's tongue.
Theo kisses Miles hard and hungrily, as if he can brand the feeling into Miles, and then pulls away, breathing heavily. He leans down and grabs Miles' journal from the floor, pressing it into Miles' hands.
Miles blinks, his vision focusing. Hew glares at Theo and knocks his journal out of Theo's hand, shoving Theo against the wall and claiming another rough, bruising kiss, fingers squeezing around Theo's pulse. When the flutter becomes a hard, insistent pound against the tips of his fingers, he pulls away. "You do want it," he says, and snatches up his journal, stalking away.
"Hypocrite." Theo shakes his head and goes into his dorm, shutting the door behind him.