The Riddle Estate was silent in the way old money always is — thick, heavy, and watchful. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows of Y/n's bedroom, casting long silver shapes across the floorboards, catching on the edges of her vanity mirror and the crumpled quilt at the foot of her bed. The air was warm, still, smelled faintly of expensive perfume and something earthier — rain on stone, the lingering trace of firewood from the study downstairs. The house had been quiet for hours. Everyone asleep. Or supposed to be.
The window creaked — just barely — a sound so soft it would've been lost under the hum of the old manor's heating if anyone had been listening closely enough. But Y/n was already waiting, and the shadow that slipped through the gap moved with practiced ease, all long limbs and quiet footsteps, familiar enough to be a ghost in her own space.
Theodore Nott
his voice is a low murmur, barely a breath Couldn't sleep.
He said it like an apology and a promise all at once. His dark hair was tousled, windswept from the climb up the trellis, and his rings glinted faintly in the moonlight as he shrugged off his jacket, dropping it onto the armchair by her desk without looking. His eyes found hers in the dark, that unreadable expression softening just slightly at the edges.
Theodore Nott
stepping closer Miss me?
He didn't wait for an answer. His hand came up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing across her cheekbone, and he tilted her head back gently before leaning in to kiss her. It started slow — teasing, almost — but it didn't stay that way. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and the quiet of the estate seemed to press in closer around them.
His mouth moved against hers with a hunger that was barely restrained, all the built-up tension of another day of pretending not to know her, not to want her, finally finding an outlet. His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to make her gasp against his lips, and he swallowed the sound like he'd been starving for it.
Theodore Nott
pulling back just enough to speak, forehead pressed against hers, voice rough Been thinking about you all day. his thumb traces her lower lip Couldn't stop. Kept remembering the way you looked last time. a pause That little sound you made when I—
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. His hand slid down her side, fingers curling into the fabric of her sleep shirt, and he pulled her toward the bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. The mattress dipped under their combined weight as he guided her down, his body covering hers, one knee sliding between her thighs.
The moonlight caught the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed slightly as he looked down at her, like he was memorizing her all over again. His left hand pressed flat against her lower stomach, warm through the thin fabric of her shirt, while his right came up to cover her mouth — gentle, but firm.
Theodore Nott
whispering against her ear, breath hot Gotta stay quiet, amore. Don't want your brother walking in on us, yeah?
Theo's POV
Her body was soft underneath him, pliant in a way that made his blood run hot even before he was inside her. He settled between her legs, the weight of him pressing her deeper into the mattress. There were red marks on her neck from earlier, blooming dark in the low light. He wanted to add more. He wanted to leave a map of himself on her skin, carnal and unmistakable. Instead, he reached down, guiding himself to her entrance, watching her face as he pushed in slow. Her eyes fluttered shut and a muffled sound vibrated against his palm.
He let out a low, shaky breath the moment he was fully seated inside her. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, and it took him a second to compose himself — the way she felt always undid him, no matter how many times they'd done this. He pulled his hips back, then pushed in again, slow, deliberate, letting her feel every inch of him.
Theodore Nott
mumbling against her skin, voice strained Fuck. You feel so good. Always do.
His rhythm stayed slow at first, teasing, each thrust measured and deep. His hand over her mouth pressed just a little harder as he angled his hips, finding that spot he knew drove her insane. Her muffled whimper was music to his ears.
Theodore Nott
picking up the pace slightly, voice dark with amusement What's wrong? Can't keep quiet? he grins against her neck, biting down softly before sucking a bruise into the sensitive skin That's okay. You're doing so good being quiet for me, baby. Such a good girl.
The praise hit her like electricity. He felt her clench around him, and he let out a breathless laugh, low and satisfied.
Theodore Nott
Yeah, you like that, don't you? Like being my dirty little secret. he thrusts deeper, harder, his left hand pressing down on her stomach like he wants to feel himself inside her Fuck — you're so tight tonight. All for me, right? Nobody else gets this. Nobody else gets to hear these pretty sounds you're making.
His mouth found her neck again, teeth grazing her pulse point, and he picked up his pace — still controlled, still quiet, but with an edge of desperation bleeding through. The bed frame squeaked faintly with each movement. He locked his elbow, holding himself over her, hips snapping with brutal precision.
The moonlight painted the room in shades of silver and shadow. A cool breeze drifted through the open window behind them, but neither of them noticed. There was only the sound of skin against skin, muffled moans and the wet, rhythmic noise filling the silence. A sheen of sweat gathered across Theo's brow and he exhaled hard through his nose, fighting to keep his own noise in check.
Theodore Nott
voice strained, right at her ear You gonna come for me? Hmm? he tilts his hips, grinding deep inside her Come on. Squeeze me. Wanna feel it.
He slid his hand from her mouth, replacing it with his lips, swallowing her cry as his fingers found her thigh, hitching her leg higher up around his hip. The new angle had her seeing stars.
Theodore Nott
breaking the kiss, voice ragged, eyes heavy-lidded as he looks down at her Atta girl. So fucking perfect. he brushes his thumb across her cheekbone, almost tender right before he snap his hips again You're taking me so well. Been so good all day, pretending you don't know me. a sharp exhale But I know exactly what you need.
The bed creaked louder, the rhythm becoming desperate, sloppy, both of them teetering on the edge. Theo dropped his hands either side of her head and buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breathing ragged against her skin.
Theodore Nott
almost a growl Close. So close, amore. Come with me. Do it.
The door to Y/n's room opened slowly. No sound. No warning. Just a dark figure in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim light from the hallway, standing perfectly still.
The only light in the room was the pale silver glow of the moon, and it revealed everything, illuminating the scene in stark detail. Theo's pale back, the muscles tensing and flexing with each deep, hypnotic roll of his hips. The way his head was bent low, lips pressed against her neck. The soft, choked-off sounds she was making into the darkness.
Behind them, the figure in the doorway shifted his weight, leaning against the frame with arms crossed, the outline of Mattheo's curls unmistakable in the dim light. His expression was unreadable — but there was no tension in his shoulders, no furious energy.
Mattheo Riddle
his voice is low, flat, cutting through the silence like a blade Wow, Theodore. That desperate for it? he makes a show of looking around the room Couldn't even wait for your own bed?
Theo's hand slipped, his palm landing flat on the mattress as his rhythm stuttered to a complete stop. For half a second, everything was frozen — the only sound in the room was his ragged, stuttered breathing and the faint hum of the estate's heating.
Theodore Nott
shocked, pulling back just slightly, voice hoarse Mattheo. he exhales slowly This isn't what it looks like.
Mattheo Riddle
snorts, arms still crossed, eyebrows raised Really. Because it looks exactly like what it is. a pause, and the corner of his mouth twitches slightly I just didn't think you'd be doing it right in front of my door, mate. That's a bit much, even for you.
He didn't move from the doorway. He just stood there, staring at the two of them, and something in the tilt of his head suggested he was fighting a smile rather than a scowl.