Draco's breathless when Snape pulls back, whispers those words into the space between their mouths. There's a flush, his eyes looking into Snape's, needing to see him. He lets the older man guide him into the bedroom, the soft light of the floating candles following them, dimming slightly, making it softer, more intimate as he leans into him with a murmur. It's still repeating in his head, the fact that Snape wants him. And he trusts him, believes that it's more than just this once, not just an offer of physicality. "I like you. I want you, I want.. this," he breathes quietly, a shy edge to it. Because he hasn't done this before. Not as far as he wants to.

He hasn't really taken in the room yet, because he's so focused on Snape. He's honest, offering the truth because Snape is the only one that's ever earned it. That doesn't mean he always gives it, but here, now, it needs to be true, honest. He leans in, going up on his toes to press a kiss against his lips, nipping softly. He's shivering, a little bit nervous, because this is new. He's never felt comfortable enough before, never trusted someone like this to where he wanted all of it. It's a few moments before he realizes just how nice the room is, in little ways, like the bed, the emerald sheets, the duvet, things that wouldn't be out of place in his own room.