won't go quietly * atlas

[vika3]

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[style= background-color:#fff; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing:-1px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 15px; padding: 10px; font-style: italic; color:#CC5D01;] i needed more than just a kiss goodnight! had to go get something out my system, i ignored the warnings, bit the fruit. it might've tasted sweet, but was my kryptonite.

Sammy basically lived in the Slytherin common room. It was the place where her people were, her beloved snakes. She was so proud of the fact that her house had the lowest percentage of filthy blood, a few exceptional misfits aside, that she didn’t mind the term ‘Slytherinsexual’, which had been hurled at her head as an insult some time ago, at all. If anything, that meant that she was sexy-people-sexual, which only made sense. Yes, Sammy was pleased to be where she was. At first glance, she seemed like a stereotypical case of pure-blooded bitch, but she knew herself better than that. She knew that it had been years since she’d last cried for herself – she’d realised that her life was fucking fantastically flawless – so she only ever cried for others. She knew that her temper was stable, that she couldn’t lie to save her life and she knew that, despite the veil of arrogance that undeniably surrounded her, she leaned towards the selfless side. It was a matter of carefully hiding all that from unworthy people to keep up appearances.

Another thing about Sam which she was very well aware of, was the fact she didn’t walk. Samantha Nott catwalked, if anything. Her shoulders were lowered, her chest pushed forward with the pride of an average peacock, her hips were synchronised with the swaying of her empty hands. She’d been practicing on that walk ever since her fourth year, when she first realised that she was a lady. Her stilettos carried her body weight to her favourite couch, where she sat down, leaned back and pulled her legs in. Okay, so the heels were worth the trouble because they added extra brilliance to her looks, but they wore her out. She pressed her knees together – any other position would have been very awkward in her school uniform – and let the skirt hike up a little, just above her knees. Her reputation had been ruined already. The school knew she was the Slytherin slut lady, there was little left to lose. Seeing that she didn’t have any particular activity in mind, besides the one that always lingered, she simply sat there, waiting for fun to come at her. Thank Merlin she wasn’t bored easily.
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[dana3]

Atlas lounged around outside the castle, the tendril of smoke issuing from the cigarette coiling lazily in the crisp air. He didn’t particularly mind the cold – how could he, with the dreaded filth coursing through his veins, warming his blood until he no longer felt anything but unbearable heat? In fact, the seventh year Slytherin almost wanted to feel the chill seeping into his bones, to feel the familiar coldness of the dungeon’s stone floor. If he tried, he could convince himself that he could feel the bite of the floor, or the relief of an autumn breeze. His limbs tingled slightly at the recollection, followed by the immediate realization it was only a reaction brought on by memories, and not actuality. A permanent scowl had been fixed on Atlas’s face ever since the middle of last year and it only deepened at this revelation. The dark-haired boy took one last deep drag and crushed the flare under the heel of his shoe before shrugging on the thick winter robes he wore out of habit and moving out from underneath the shade of the trees surrounding Hogwarts.

As he walked to the Slytherin common room, he felt detached, as if his mind had gone elsewhere, leaving his body on auto-pilot. The tall boy walked through the halls without courtesy for the other students milling about; he shouldered his way through the thicker pockets of people in the halls, earning yelps and angry glares that Atlas couldn’t be bothered to return. He moved on in a stubbornly arrogant way, with shoulders thrown back and head held high. Atlas Lestrange didn’t have to make way for the students at Hogwarts; by his blood, he was already in a class above them, and by his disease, he was strong enough to shove through them mercilessly. Luckily, the lower Atlas descended into Hogwarts, the fewer people he had to see; it was apparent that Hogwarts students didn’t like hanging around the dungeon that housed the most notorious house in the establishment. That suited him just fine, and Atlas was relieved when the door swung open to reveal the empty common room.

Well, almost empty.

Against the dark silver and green that adorned the common room, the bright red of Samantha’s hair seemed even brighter and emphasized than it was normally. It was a subject of disdain in Atlas – after all, that Weasley family was full of gingers – but Samantha Nott was pureblooded with family that tied very closely with his own. She was perched on a couch with what Atlas thought was an expectant look, as if she’d been waiting for someone. Immediately, suspicion welled up in Atlas’s stomach, but he quelled the feeling long enough to lope over to her – even his gait had become a little less refined – and stand in front of her. It wasn’t as if he could simply ignore her, not when they were the only two in the common room and she was one of the few that Atlas didn’t mind as much. “Waiting for someone, Sammy?”

[vika3]

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[style= background-color:#fff; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing:-1px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 15px; padding: 10px; font-style: italic; color:#CC5D01;] i needed more than just a kiss goodnight! had to go get something out my system, i ignored the warnings, bit the fruit. it might've tasted sweet, but was my kryptonite.

Samantha suddenly considered buying some kind of lottery ticket. If she could transform that insane luck of hers into cold, hard gold, she’d be rich before she could shout ‘hooray’. All her worries about money would melt like snow in the sun, she would not have to worry as much about finding a rich guy to marry and above all, she could afford more clothes, shoes and jewellery. As middle-class as she was financially, when it came to serendipity, she was extremely fortunate. Even now, when aimlessly hanging around the common room, fate had smiled down upon her and sent her one of the best-looking guys in the school. It could’ve been a first year, or a dull person, or even a girl, but nope, she had Atlas Lestrange coming straight at her. Watching him walk into the room was a treat on itself. She allowed her excruciatingly blue eyes to roam up and down his figure a couple of times, more out of habit than acute need.

His question was simple and so was the answer to it, still she felt the odd urge to lie about it. Maybe manipulation did run in the Slytherin house after all, because Sammy sincerely wished she could come up with an excuse for her lame presence here. She didn’t want to come off as a desperate no-lifer who spent her days waiting for entertainment – although she had caught herself in such a state rather often in the past few weeks. The only thing that kept her from replying something sophisticated and untrue was her shameful inability to lie. Sometimes she wondered whether her parents hadn’t slipped veritaserum into her baby bottle, because whenever she considered lying, her cheeks flushed, her voice went up a couple of pitches and she got the urge to look everywhere, but into the person’s eyes. No. She dismissed that idea –Atlas had seen her in more pathetic times anyway. ”Not at all, Atlas.” She mentioned his name because he’d so carelessly used hers. Not that she minded the nickname. Everyone on her good side called her Sammy, darling, whereas all on the bad one called her ‘holy fuck it’s that Nott whore’. No, it simply surprised her why he needed to address her like that, since she was the only bloody person in the room and he was right in front of her.

Tapping the empty space on the sofa, right besides herself, she invited him to sit with her. Now he’d walked in on her like that, she demanded his company, never minding the fact he’d been acting weird lately. Very uncharacteristically for a snake, Sammy actually trusted the people around her. If Atlas had to shut people out and be a grumpy mess, she trusted him to have a very good reason for it. Asking for an explanation would only annoy him needlessly. Looking up with a light smile, she asked him something else instead. ”Sit, or do you have better things to do right now?” Her tone betrayed the irony in that. Sam couldn’t believe that anyone had anything better to do than kill time with her.
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[dana3]

Atlas didn’t stop his wandering eye from sliding lazily up and down Samantha’s figure. His werewolfism had left him incapable of feeling anything but bitterness and disgust for himself, but emotions were separate from the carnal hunger that his disease seemed to enhance. The change, however, was not contained in merely sensual desires; since the accident, he’d been more prone to violent outbursts – some of which tied in with the former and, regrettably, ended up with a scramble to leave the next morning. Just ask Scarlett. The wolfsbane that the Lestrange family smuggled to Atlas in secret did nothing but keep his mind from becoming too wolfish; his body still remained in that ugly, four-legged form, and his emotions still ran as though he were the alpha wolf—which, he supposed, he sort of was, considering he’d yet to meet a male wolf.

She patted the seat beside her, but Atlas paused for a moment, eyeing the seat with something akin to suspicion. The full moon wasn’t quite on the horizon – Atlas kept an eye on the calendar almost as much as a woman – but even without, he could be quite dangerous with his wolf strength and reflexes. However, he reasoned, he was with someone who he didn’t mind quite as much as the others at this wretched school, and thus, there would be less to set him off. In fact, the seventh year doubted he’d ever felt anything worse than indifference to the redheaded Slytherin, and so, with another second of hesitation, the boy sank down into the seat and sprawled out cautiously. He hated having to be so wary of his own actions, but it made sense; the blasted wolf had, after all, taken much more than his tourjours pur blood.

“I suppose I don’t,” Atlas replied, running a hand through his hair casually and letting his eyes again wander over her, unabashed in his staring. After all, she was a Slytherin, and on the whole, their house was the most attractive and the most seductive. Theirs was a noble history, though filth had begun to seep in. Half-bloods Atlas found acceptable, but mudbloods…

He shifted, banishing unpleasant thoughts of mudbloods from his mind and instead, concentrated on the curve of Samantha’s jaw before sliding up to her lips and then her eyes. It was a difficult job to do, since his eyes wanted to always focus in on the bright redness of her hair; Atlas had never seen such bright hair on someone other than a Weasley, but he knew better than to make that comparison. Samantha was, after all, of much nobler stock.

“And I’m assuming you don’t either, since you appear to have been waiting for me,” he said, a careless smirk lifting at the edges of his lips. His hand fell from his hair and the seventh year wolf cocked his head and focused in on her green eyes – perfect for Slytherin – and attempted to block out the bloody red of her hair.

[vika3]

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[style= background-color:#fff; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing:-1px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 15px; padding: 10px; font-style: italic; color:#CC5D01;] i needed more than just a kiss goodnight! had to go get something out my system, i ignored the warnings, bit the fruit. it might've tasted sweet, but was my kryptonite.

A minor part of Samantha was cautious in allowing Atlas to spend time with her. The reflex she’d gotten over the year was simple – if it’s a pureblooded snake, spend time with them and if it’s a male, love them – but Atlas had been ruining it for himself lately. Lately, he’d been so far away, she’d started to doubt his worthiness to be cared about. She may be an unreliable little bitch, she still was a walking contradiction to the Slytherin stereotype in the way that she couldn’t lie to save her life, or stop caring. Caring wasn’t necessarily a bad word, by her book. Everyone was so goddamned terrified of it, the fussy little kids, it made her want to scream and tell everyone to grow the hell up and grow a backbone. She did realise the danger of opening the heart and whichever other cheesy organ for others, but she had made up a set of rules for herself. Only bother with the worthy. That kept her from going insane about the kids in Africa and still allowed her to be attached to other human beings. It seemed like a good deal to her, since she was blind to the unfairness and blind hypocrisy in that reasoning.

So, it was a given fact that this particular boy-going-on-man was important to her, as he had been for the past whatever years - she lost count rather often. The question was; was Atlas still enough? The last thing she needed was to be shoved away too harshly, there was only so much she count take before her easy-going nature would crack and she’d feel offended. Therefore, she eyed him with great care when he stood there, apparently trying to decide whether to sit or not. Calling that his last chance would be too dramatic and Sammy hated drama, but she wouldn’t deny the importance of his decision. If he would sit, good. If he would prefer to leave… She was still trying to think of what she’d do, to anticipate, when he’d taken a seat already.

That solved it for her. Emotional simplicity was one of the Nott girl’s strengths. One and one came down to two, Atlas and sitting came down to him wanting to be with her in one way or another. All previous doubts were wiped from the blackboard of her mind and she allowed herself to relax fully. Snuggling back into the sofa, she squirmed a bit, wiggling from side to side to sink in deeper and allow the cushions to embrace her with their softness. Mmh-mhhm. Now that was good. Once she’d gotten comfortable, she found herself teasing, which happened to be her favourite hobby besides sleeping. ”That’s peculiar. I’d have thought someone with your intelligence and looks would have a lot of important things to do. Am I overestimating you so?” She smirked at him, watching the beautiful scene where he brushed back his hair – apparently needlessly, but still stunningly. Those kinds of things should come in slow-motion, she’d pay dearly to see it.

His eyes were all over, her eyes were all over and they knew it, didn’t they? For someone who spent half her waking time making sarcastic and/or ironic remarks, Sammy had a peculiarly hard time dealing with them when she was the target. Instead of being an absolute minx, she responded like a little girl. Pouting lightly, she felt rather cornered, which was only a good thing when sexual activities were involved. She hadn’t ruled out that pleasant option, though. ”I wasn’t waiting for you, I tell you. I didn’t know you’d be here. Had I know that, I’d… I’d probably have changed into something better than this bloody uniform.” The urge for physical contact was insuppressibly strong, as ever. Deciding to be subtle with it, she turned her upper body, rested an elbow on the back of the sofa and ‘walked’ her index and middle finger closer to him.
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[dana3]

Atlas let his eyes roam over her unabashedly; that was the great thing about Slytherin house. Everyone seemed to want everyone, and no one really gave a damn. After all, they were all products of in-breeding anyway. He cocked his head at her half-insulting jibe and smirked a little. This, he’d missed this. Ever since the night with the wolf, he’d been detached from the rest of his house, save for Aries and his sister. Now, however, it seemed he was getting pieces of his old life back. He shifted a little, felt the scars from his transformation ripple, and Atlas’s smirk disappeared; he’d always have to carry those reminders. “Not at all,” he replied smoothly, holding his head at an arrogant angle. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, Sammy, you’re quite important.”

It wasn’t a lie; Atlas would do almost anything for his house, the purebloods at least. The half-bloods he tolerated to a certain degree, but he couldn’t deny there was some sort of exclusiveness that he pinned to being a Slytherin pureblood. They were the last remains of what Salazar Slytherin had once envisioned of Hogwarts, and hopefully, the first of many under Delacroix. They deserved the utmost in his book and were certainly more important than anything Atlas could have fathomed doing.

“Would you have?” he asked, arching an eyebrow, following the pull of her lips downwards. It was a cute motion, strange on such a sultry face, and Atlas smirked a little at the discrepancy between appearance and reality. “I won’t lie, I’m not a fan of school girl looks,” he said bluntly, screwing up his mouth in a look of disgust. The pleated skirt, the tie – Atlas fancied himself older than he actually was, and it just felt wrong chasing after girls who looked like they should’ve been in fifth year or under. He watched her lean backwards, followed her motion as she walked her fingers to him. It was a not-so-subtle motion with an equally unsubtle intention, and Atlas couldn’t help but grin.

“Fortunately, I’m willing to look past that for you,” he said, not moving an inch; the seventh year would rather her come to him. “You’re lucky. I don’t do that for everyone.” That was true enough; Atlas rarely tolerated people. He could probably count the number of people he liked on one hand, most of them Slytherins. For all his talk of hating Gryffindors, though, one had somehow managed to sneak onto that hand. Atlas spared that a moment of reflection; that had been a mistake, and yet, the Slytherin couldn’t be bothered to fix it.

“So, if you weren’t waiting for me, then what exactly were you doing here?” he inquired, his tone blank and his eyes focused mostly on her hand. How long had it been? Atlas felt the stir in his stomach as his eyes roamed from her arm to her face to her body. Too long, he decided and shifted slightly over so her fingers would have less of a distance to cover; the sooner she touched him, the sooner he’d be able to satisfy his needs.


his ~needs

[vika3]

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[style= background-color:#fff; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing:-1px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 15px; padding: 10px; font-style: italic; color:#CC5D01;] i needed more than just a kiss goodnight! had to go get something out my system, i ignored the warnings, bit the fruit. it might've tasted sweet, but was my kryptonite.

Only when the relief washed over her in pleasant, warm waves, did she realise that she’d been anticipating his reaction rather nervously. Weird things had happened and even weirder ones were coming up, people weren’t who they used to be. Atlas had lost his position as the undoubted Slytherin King when he’d started acting peculiar, and she’d lost her insight in his psyche about then. For all she knew he could have snapped and figuratively bitten her head off, instead of going along with the light-heartedness. (Luckily, she didn’t know how literal that expression could be taken with Atlas.) She’d acted upon instinct and routine more than anything and it had worked. Brilliant. ”Who could possibly tell me otherwise? I’m not fond of liars.” She smirked right back at him, devouring his face with her eyes.

For a Slytherin, Samantha had quite a few peculiar virtues. For one, she was as honest as they came. It may not come across as a positive trait when combined with her in-born arrogance and sense of superiority, but she was unable to tell untruths, especially to the ones she adored. Secondly, she was calm and anti-dramatic. Those were the things she clung on to, the rocks that kept her grounded. Those ideas helped her to overcome her initial worry for Atlas and relax around him. Had he wanted her help with his obvious issue, he would have asked for it. Apparently, he thought it would be best to ignore it all and pretend like his major personality change never happened; she respected that.

”Of course I would have.” She nodded quickly, huffing once more. Was the childish pout alien to the adulterous body, or was the body strange to her childishly simple mind? Hell if she knew. All she wanted to do was have sex, eat cookies and shower the few pure guys Slytherin had left with endless affection. ”I’ve got an amazing new dress,” which was a special occasion for her, since her family wasn’t as wealthy as she’d like it to be, ”it’s gentle green, perfectly fitting and about this high.” She rested a hand on her own leg, halfway between the knee and thigh. ”I would have worn that for you. But you know, if we both don’t like the uniform, I could always strip it off.” She was as subtle as a monster truck and she didn’t care. There was very little use in avoiding the subject that brought them together. He was a healthy young male, she was a healthy young female. It was the stuff dreams porns were made of.

He didn’t seem opposed to her touching him, which was about the best news she’d gotten today. Walking her fingers to his shoulder, she found a comfortable spot for her hand there. Of course, she seized that opportunity to rub up and down his muscles, enjoying their curve. Her face lit up when she smiled back at him, flashing teeth and softening her eyes. ”Thanks. Should I feel special now, like the dozens of other girls?” Jesting, she slapped his shoulder. Their complexions were comparable to a steak and single string of spaghetti, she couldn’t hurt him, even if she’d wanted to. She’d rather cut off her hair than actually damage him, though. He was precious and Sammy sank her teeth into what was precious, keeping it from harm and refusing to let go. ”I wasn’t doing anything, to be honest.” Something told her speech had become the less important bit of their interaction, by now. Her hand crept up, over his neck to rest on his cheek. As her thumb stroked the harshness of his cheekbones, she shifted her entire body weight to move closer to him. A little more and she’d be pressed against his side completely.
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[dana3]

Here in the Slytherin common room, with Samantha sidling up closer to him, Atlas felt comfortable. The Slytherin dorm had always been a place of refuge for him, second only to his own dormitory and occasionally, the Lestrange manor (though lately, that had felt more and more distant, since he and his father had started their cold war). Even if he still had to hide who he was – what he was – Atlas thought that in the common room, he could still hold on desperately to the boy he’d once been and try to slip that mask back on. As a sixteen year old, Atlas had unashamedly taken advantage of the Slytherin trait of indifference toward public displays of affection; he’d claimed a majority of the couches as his personal quarters, though he’d still shared a four post bedroom with his fellow snakes. After the attack, he’d been abruptly moved to a single and the house elves must’ve sighed in relief at their sudden drop in duties when it concerned clean-up at the Slytherin common room.

His face moved across her face, drinking in the sight of her familiar smirk. It was delightfully wicked, pretty, and contagious. Atlas found his own lips moving into a self-assured smirk – an expression he’d only recently started to don again. “Then I guess we’re lucky that I don’t lie,” he said, tacking on his qualifier in his mind. To you. Much. Atlas had no qualms about making petty promises to those he considered unworthy of his time, namely Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Ravenclaws… it was debatable. Some of the Ravenclaws were tolerable sometimes, but others… he found himself displeased at the way the house had fallen. Luckily, both he and Ammy had been sorted into their father’s house. It was only fitting, tourjours pur and all that.

Atlas chuckled a little at the sight of her pout. It was an adorably childish expression on her elegant face, and he was astounded at how it transformed her from the seductress that other Houses may have seen into a kitten. A kitten with the sharpest bite he’d ever come across. Although he had never been on the receiving end of her vicious tongue, Atlas had heard stories, and he had to admit, they entertained him almost as much as hexing Gryffinwhores.

As she described her dress, Atlas busied himself with filling the gap in his memories of her body and face. His imagination ran wild with her descriptions: first, he saw her in the dress she described, red hair enflamed even more by the green, then he saw her without either the dress or the shoddy school uniform. Atlas had to drag himself out of the thought before his thoughts would betray him (his muscles had stiffened slightly, and now Atlas forced himself to relax before he lost his composure again and cracked the couch somehow). Her last comment left him pleasantly surprised; it looked like Sammy was on the same page.

“That could be interesting,” he said offhandedly, faking disinterest (though he was anything but) to see how she’d react. Atlas had always been a monger for the spotlight and to have attention lavished upon him was the ultimate aphrodisiac. It was narcissistic, perhaps, but he loved people who loved him. “But there’s something less satisfying about you taking it off, and I wouldn’t want to ruin a new dress by tearing it.”

Her touch was relaxing, and Atlas leaned into it slightly. There was something reassuring about the seemingly unchangeable nature of their friendship, and when she slapped his shoulder lightly, Atlas was comfortable enough to let it roll off him, keeping calms the waters of his temper. “Not dozens,” he clarified before pretending to frown in thought. “Actually, it might be. Hell if I know. I lost count a while ago. But you are the only one who should feel special.” As she ran her fingers over his face, Atlas arched an eyebrow haughtily. “Funnily enough, neither was I. Let’s change that, shall we?”

[vika3]

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[style= background-color:#fff; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing:-1px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 15px; padding: 10px; font-style: italic; color:#CC5D01;] i needed more than just a kiss goodnight! had to go get something out my system, i ignored the warnings, bit the fruit. it might've tasted sweet, but was my kryptonite.

If she could, Sammy would genuinely want to stay like that forever. At home in the Common Room of the House she pretty much personified, surrounded by people who shared the same morals and values, she felt needed and liked. Lately, she’d found that a couple of Hufflepuff guys were worthy too. Especially the Head Boy had caught her fancy. He’d cheated on his girlfriend with her and he hardly showed any signs of remorse – if anything, he’d implied that he’d very much like another round of sinning. Such heartless recklessness was what attracted Sammy to males, stupidly enough. However, obviously, Slytherins were still her ultimate loves. If she had to sacrifice her life to help the serpent house in any way, she would slit her wrists without giving it a second thought. For a confident, apathetic whore, Sammy was relentless when it came to the things she loved.

He didn’t lie? That was nonsense. Ninety-nine point nine per cent of the student body in Hogwarts lied, she’d found. Genuine people, also known as retards or those who lacked the acting talent it took to lie properly, were incredibly hard to find. She was one of the unlucky ones who couldn’t lie without blushing, fidgeting or betraying herself in any other way, so she’d made a living out of being blunt. ”Don’t be silly. I’m sure you do, but that’s okay.” Atlas was too masculine and perfect to have such a flaw as honesty, right? ”I appreciate the gesture.” She finished with a nod. If anything, he’d lied about lying to make her feel good about herself, right? She decide to see it like that and take it as a compliment. One would say that she’d have gotten used to receiving them, seeing how often she got called pretty, hot or attractive in a day. However, those were all empty words, shot at her with the intention of blinding her and making her drop her pants. She much preferred compliments about her personality, family or blood.

Her eyes had been glued to him all along, at first out of caution, then out of amusement. Jacoby was right after all, bless his good soul. Aries’ peculiar habit of hanging around with a filthy half-beast didn’t matter much, as long as there were still plenty of other guys. As long as the world had enough Atlases, Delacroixs and minor pure families, she’d find a husband to marry and have lots of sons with. Her profound believe that she’d have a decent life had been shaken lightly by recent events, but she was regaining her faith quickly. Soon, she’d have all the affection and money she could wish for, she just knew it. After all, who didn’t want a beautiful, dangerous, dreadfully dedicated Nott lady? Her ego objected – such questions should never be asked, not even rhetorically.

Offering up a strip act may be humiliating for some, but it felt normal for her. She liked her body and attention, he liked her body and a good view, so why couldn’t they combine their desires and have a jolly good time? The appropriate response to such an offer was ‘oh yes please how about now thank you’, and all she got was a shrug and some lame comment? Nope. She wasn’t going to settle for that. ”It was just a suggestion. I wouldn’t want you to ruin my new dress, even though I doubt whether you could. It’s pretty thick polyester.” Still, she’d learnt never to underestimate the brutal power of the guy who wished to get her naked. You’d not believe the things they could tear. She’d performed the reparo spell about a million times this year alone. ”If you’re not in the mood for that, I could always find someone else. Jakey is always up for some or I could find a Ravenclaw to corrupt.” Smirking lopsidedly, she shrugged at him. He his penis was replaceable. She made sure to tease him by pointing out just that.

”Yes, dozens. You can’t trick me much, I’m not blind nor stupid. You’re way too gorgeous to live a celibate life.” The little comment made her smile even more, though. As much as she realised that snake boys said that to every single pretty girl, it still made her warm and self-satisfied on the inside. There was nothing as rewarding as being wanted by a Lestrange. Deciding to continue stalling a little longer, she looked up, pretending to be thinking really hard about his suggestive question. ”Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe you put me off by not being eager enough, maybe I’ll leave you now and find someone else. I could be easily hurt, you know.” At the end of that, she smirked in such a wicked way, that it betrayed just how full of shit that statement was. Sammy would need to get hit by a tank in order to feel hurt – the girl had an inbred mental solidity of stainless steel.
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[dana3]

Atlas grinned at her protest and flexed his muscles slightly. Thick polyester would meet its match with Atlas Lestrange, the werewolf, and if he wasn’t so keen on hiding his unnaturally enhanced senses, he might’ve been inclined to take back his nonchalant dismissal of a strip tease and demand one now. His blue eyes roamed over her regrettably, still-clothed body, and he almost broke his careless smirk with a frown. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so quick to reject her proposal. Samantha Nott was gorgeous, charming, vivacious—not to mention, she was as pure of blood as he, Aries, and Jac were. Well… like Aries and Jac were. Atlas was reminded again that he was no longer considered “pure” by the standards of the Ministry. Why else had he had to make the deal with the Minister himself?

“Sorry, I meant ‘no, please, give me some. Let me feast my eyes upon your naked body’,” Atlas replied dryly, his mouth twisting into a smirk. “Anything to keep you from going to a Ravenclaw.” The boy had no qualms about sharing among his blood brothers, but when it came to inter-house, he’d rather not. Even Ravenclaw—some of whom Atlas could stand—made his stomach churn. Fortunately, Samantha’s pureblood was a self-cleanser. No matter who or what she touched (Atlas recognized the wry irony at the fact he was a “what” in this case), her pureblood would always act as an eraser, wiping her slate clean before she moved onto her next. Atlas chortled, both at the thought of Samantha being anything less than hardy and the shit-eating grin that had spread across her face. “Right, and I could be a woman, but I think you know from experience that’s hardly true.” He raised his hand to hers and plucked it off his face, trapping her tiny, pale hand between his larger, darker ones. His fingers made small shapes and swirls in her skin, his long fingers whisking lightly over the inside of her wrist. Her light weight pressing up against his side made Atlas feel only more comfortable, and he eyed her from the corner of his eye.

“Celibate? Me?” Atlas smirked and traced the same patterns up to her forearm, tickling the soft skin there at the crook of her elbow with the light touches of the pads of his fingers. “I can assure you… or rather, I can show you I’m not.” The dark-haired boy cocked an eyebrow suggestively before dropping her arm gently and leaning back, away from her. Atlas liked playing games; this one was a favorite of his. When the seventh year explained it, he likened it to being an energetic little kid with a stove. Atlas often played with the hot and cold settings that his attention showered on others. Sometimes the changes were minute—an occasional cold glance here, a rather mean laugh there—and other times, the change was palpable in Atlas’s demeanor. The glint in his eyes would harden, his posture would become straighter, and Atlas would surround himself in sheets of ice. Those who could claim to never have felt this erratic change in Atlas Lestrange’s behavior were few.

Now, the boy leaned in closer to the redhead, his blue eyes focusing on the brilliant green of hers. They matched the house colors, and Atlas found himself strangely attracted to the thought; perhaps it really was true that he was Slytherinsexual. All Sammy needed to do was dye her hair silver – and get rid of that ghastly Weasley color of bright, bright red – and Atlas would be tripping over his feet trying to woo her. He paused at the point where their noses just barely brushed each other, his bright blue gaze focused intensely on hers. “Well?” he murmured, the corners of his lips quirking slightly. “Ball’s in your court, gorgeous.”

[vika3]

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[style= background-color:#fff; text-align:justify; line-height:95%; letter-spacing:-1px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 15px; padding: 10px; font-style: italic; color:#CC5D01;] i needed more than just a kiss goodnight! had to go get something out my system, i ignored the warnings, bit the fruit. it might've tasted sweet, but was my kryptonite.

Atlas was desirable in each and every way. Greed was one of Sammy’s uncountable personality flaws, and it popped up its ugly head right now. She hardly ever wanted to possess a person as a whole and be their one and only, no, her needs were much more temporary. Dating and relationships were outdated institutions to her, or maybe she simply hadn’t matured enough to deal with love as an emotion rather than a mind trick. Who knew. All she knew was that she wanted Atlas now, his undivided attention, his affection, lust and – let’s be honest about this, shall we – certain unmentionable parts of his body. ”You don’t have to be so sarcastic about it, when we both know it’s what you want.” In Sammy’s universe – which was the only one, as far as she was concerned – it was impossible to be a healthy heterosexual male and not want her. Especially snakes like Atlas, who had had their fair share of her affection and physical willingness, had to like her. They simply had to, being reasonable creatures with a perfect set of morals. ”Ravenclaws aren’t too bad. I might even say some are better than you. At least they still appreciate me~” she smirked halfway through the sentence, obviously teasing him just to get a reaction. Insults were Slytherins’ foreplay, everyone knew that.

Oh, he wasn’t a woman. Far from it. Still, she wrinkled her nose and pulled up her upper lip, making a rather wolfish face. ”Don’t compare yourself to that. Not even when I know you’re better. It just may be enough to turn me off.” Her hatred for her gender – some peculiar exceptions aside – was something she believed to be legendary. No other girl had such an irrational, deep-going, unfounded loathing of her own sex, especially not when combined with an other than that laid-back personality. She was proud of her wicked flaws, certainly. Pride was exactly what she felt when she watched him play with her hand, rather cutely for a snake. Her own limb was swallowed by his enormous hands, reminding her how tiny and fragile she was. Atlas could break her in two with one flick of his wrist, still she felt safe, because she knew he wouldn’t. When it came to guys like him, she was happily blind.

Calling him celibate seemed a sin in itself, but she was willing to do anything for good fun. From experience, she knew that prodding Slytherin boys just enough to make them snap always had positive, sexy consequences, and she hoped he wouldn’t let her down. She parted her lips, already breathing out to say something, but the constant touches on her forearm distracted her. Peculiarly enough, that light pressure on her skin was extremely sexual. Sammy had deal with way too much groping, touching, feeling over the course of time, so it was odd that exactly this, seemingly trivial grope should intrigue her. Yet, it did. Enough so to take her breath away for a second and make her smile. ”Show me.” She eventually whispered, about to give in and simply hump the boy, just when he pulled back. Motherfuckinghell and all other curses! She pouted, looking at him with shameless need written all over her face. This wasn’t right. She was the princess, the damsel who got to tease the boys until they sank down on their knees! Yet, she found her grip on herself slipping now, the voice of self-control became muter and the urge stronger.

However, she still had it! That’s what she told herself when he leaned towards her. They always came back, it was a matter of time, see, see! For a split second, she felt like a child who had gotten what it wanted underneath the Christmas tree and she thought about that holiday and what she’d do this year, but then she melted back into her familiar posture of saucy minx. From up close, he seemed oddly dangerous, partly because of the coldness of his eyes and partly because of the scent he gave off, which was so full of pheromones, that a hormonal mess like Sammy ought to faint upon smelling it. It entertained her endlessly. ”My court?” she repeated, smirking self-satisfied at the sports term. Then, she finally allowed herself to give in and leaned forward, snaking both hands around his neck as she claimed her kiss. Sammy had never been one for gentleness – even when Jakey insisted on being tender to prove his respect, she wanted her affection hard, fast and brutal. Now she’d gotten the chance to do inappropriate things to Atlas, she was embarrassingly eager to prove him that things were alright, even though he’d been awkward lately. More than anything, she wanted to use him for her own pleasure.
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