The Illusion of Love
The Dark Lord's cold merciless eyes stared into the fire crackling in the fireplace, his eyes busy with thought. Usually, his posture was rigid, for as a Dark Lord, he never dared appear sloppy, not even in private, but tonight, he was uncannily relaxed, albeit somewhat anxious.
Although he would not define the feeling accurately as anxiety, perhaps it was a mixture of impatience and excitement. His guest had a knack for showing up on time, never even a minute late to the time they agreed on beforehand. The slits of his eyes darted almost casually to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room as he awaited her expected and punctual arrival.
His eyes then thoughtlessly drifted to the carpet and he found himself mildly annoyed with how time had slowed down all of a sudden. He straightened up in his seat. An unfamiliar sensation buzzed up his spine and he suddenly wondered whether he was actually anxious. He found himself mentally berating himself for his lack of mental discipline and usual cool demeanor. It was so out of the ordinary for him, he couldn't help but climb out of his chair in front of the fire and pace the room, waiting for her arrival. She would be here any second now.
A spark crackled in the corner of the room. It built up until it erupted into suspended thunderous boom. For a second, Lord Voldemort had to close his eyes to avoid the burn of the sharp split second of light. When he opened the slits of his eyes again, a figure stood on the spot of the explosion, smoke soaring up in swirls from the ground from the impact she had made on her arrival.
She was crouched on her haunches with one of her palms tightly pressed to the surface of the floor. He watched her recover from the spell she had cast as her eyes fluttered open blinked at the ground twice. Almost ceremoniously she rose from her haunches and stood up straight. Her face spread out into a wide grin that dripped with maniacal intent, and the Dark Lord had to suppress a shiver of delight at the sight of it.
Taking a second to dust any residual material off her clothes, she made eye contact with the Dark Lord himself. The moment their eyes met, her posture changed. One of her soft and delicate hands went to rest on the curve of her hip when she shifted her weight on the one side of her body. Voldemort's eyes drifted to the dip in the sides of her voluptuous body. He admired the way her dress hugged her curvy form. She always wore black. He appreciated that a lot more than he should have.
Her hips began to sway as she strode forward to greet him.
"Lord Voldemort." Her voice was smooth. Once she reached him, he made sure to put up all his guards as to not reveal any emotion.
Once she was close enough, he reached for one of her delicate hands and raised it to his cold thin lips to kiss the bend of her knuckled over his fingers. Her smile twisted and one of her shoulders rolled once with pleasure.
"Medusa," he greeted back in a low voice, keeping a close eye on her. As much as he craved her, he never gave into his desires. In the beginning, he only desired her immense power as a unique witch, but with time he could not help but see her than more. The more they began to meet, the more he would get lost in fantasies of having her writhing and panting beneath her. He dreamt of tying her up and absolutely, fiercely and aggressively dominating her, forcing her to admit his power and authority.
After finally releasing her hand from is charming grasp, her one eyebrow mocking rose after inspecting his stoic form.
"You seem distracted tonight," she said, her voice dripping with sensuality, as if she was intentionally trying to make him uncomfortable. Despite his guards being up, he mentally cursed that she was able to into his restlessness, or perhaps she was just trying to get a rouse out of him. He knew she liked to tease.
"I assure you, I'm fine," he insisted kindly, yet his face remained cold. Medusa then smirked widely, the sides of her glorious face stretching. Swaying her hips, she took two steps closer and playfully slid her hands up Voldemort's chest, almost causing him to lose control and pin her to the floor in front of the fire.
Despite the position she had put them in, the Dark Lord didn't let anything slip through his façade. He merely surveyed her and let her do as she pleased. Standing on tiptoe, she inched closer to his face, her smirk dissolving into a face of complete want and longing.
"How much longer are you going to keep being so formal with me? I can tell you want me, and I've been brazenly open about wanting you. Am I undesirable to you?" The last sentence came out hushed, causing the Dark Lord to soften his eyes.
He raised his hand to place it under her chin and stroked her soft skin pleasantly. Her breath hitched in her throat when his eyes suddenly darkened.
"My dear, once I take you, I'm not letting you go. Not for errands and not for anything. If you want me to take you, you become mine. And only MINE. No one else is to touch you, or even look at you, for that matter. If you run from me afterwards, I will hunt you down, bring you back and tie you to me infinitely. If I take you, I keep you forever." He had not noticed that he was gripping the lower part of her hips and crushing her lower body to him with possessive force.
Medusa's eyes clouded over with passion and something the Dark Lord associated with realization and thoughtfulness. She did not flinch under his touch or hurtful grip and merely palmed his chest in a provocative gesture. Voldemort dared to inch his face closer to her.
"You want me then?" she breathed, face moving up to his. She darted out her sweet tongue and flicked it over the crack of where his lips would have been. Voldemort felt a rumble escape his chest as it constricted with raw desire for the woman standing so close and against him.
"My dear, I've pained for you since the first time I set eyes on you. My body aches to have you close. I cannot stand being away from you and when you leave, I grow agitated. My followers unfortunately have to bear my wrath when I'm frustrated by your absence."
Voldemort than slightly pulled away. "But I don't love you." He was resolute in his statement.
By this Medusa seemed confused. Then she spitefully laughed to herself. "Of course! Love doesn't exist. It's nothing but an illusion, a term for people to come to an understanding of attachment. No one can even accurately define it. It's ridiculous." For the first time in years, the Dark Lord felt his jaw go slack.
He kissed her. Hard. His pale hands smashed her into his cold body, almost trying to devour her. Taken off guard by his sudden pull, she took a while to recover but seconds later found herself clasping her arms around his neck. She pulled him as close as physically possible, already sensing the fuel of his desire against her thigh.
Voldemort let one of his hands grasp the back of her head and tangle into her hair, pulling at it painfully. Her neck jerked and she let out a strangled moan when he changed the angle of his kiss. The sound alone set him on fire.
He explored the cavern of her hot mouth, momentarily dueling with her own tongue, but quickly claimed victory over the battle. He pulled away for a second and then took her lower lip between his and sucked on it mercilessly, hoping for it to swell when he was finished. Medusa arched her body into his at the sensation.
Feeling her skin ablaze with chills, Voldemort bit down on the lip he was sucking, not too hard for he wanted to avoid breaking her flawless skin. He kissed deeply once more, his movements become primal and forceful. He inched her away from him for a moment.
Something caught his attention from below. He lowered his gaze to spot Nagini sailing between him and Medusa. She must've spotted the snake as well because she let out a startled yelp and, to Voldemort's complete and utter astonishment, sprang up into the air in fright. He caught her just in time and found her fear of Nagini rather ironic and comical, but decided he would bring it up later.
"There is nothing to be frightened of, my dear," he assured her in a low voice. "Nagini is one of my closest companions. She will not harm you as long as she is under my command."
Medusa huffed and edged her body closer to his, probably not believing him.
Sighing, the Dark Lord looked down at the snake at his feet. He spoke to her in parseltongue. "Leave, Nagini. I am making this woman mine tonight. Don't interrupt. In fact, while you're here, guard the door to see that no one interrupts."
"Very well, master." Her voice held the smallest hint of jealousy when she sailed away and out of the room. Voldemort resisted another sigh, finding it funny how lover's jealousy even extended to the animal kingdom. Of course, Nagini was much more than an animal, but no one needed to know that. Not even the hot and heaving woman still in his arms.
Apparently, him speaking parseltongue had set her off completely. When his eyes met her face she was completely flushed, her breasts jerking up and down as her breath escaped her body. She leaned her face forward to his to kiss the side of his jaw with her swollen lips.
"What was that?" she asked, sliding her hand up and down his chest in attraction.
"I am a Parseltongue, meaning I have the ability to speak to serpents," he explained, adjusting her form in his arms. She was by no means heavy, but he needed more of her against him. Now.
"Oh, that is so …attractive." Her voice quivered. He kissed her silly for a moment before pulling away.
"Where would you like for me to take this, my dear?" he asked, slightly breathless, but less so than her. Her eyes opened to his, but remained half-lidded. A glazed look graced her features. Voldemort felt a fire erupt in his chest at the sight of her. "To my room? Or perhaps here, on the rug in front of the fire?"
Her eyes sparkled with mischievousness. "Oh, why not in front of the fire? It's rather romantic," she cooed, eyes tracing over his body in appreciation.
Knowing she would be pleased about his further attempt at romance, he carried her over to the fire and gently set her on the thick bearskin rug in front of the glowing coals. She hummed appreciatively and verbally swooned when Voldemort smirked when climbing on top of her. He had no idea why woman, and even woman like Medusa, liked the idea of romance. It mattered not. He'd mastered romancing even at a young age as it enabled him to have whatever he wanted, especially when it came to females.
He loomed over her, willing his magic to pressure her body even more into the surface below them. He wanted to devour her. Take all of her. He wanted her body. Mind. Soul. Power.
It was all going to be his.
(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)
A/N: How fun! CROSSOVER PAIRING FOR THE WIN.
Uhm, don't know how my brain came up with this one. Humour me.
Don't try to deny it. If Voldemort was REALY attracted to a woman and he wanted her, he'd spoil her a little. He doesn't have to care for her. As long as he gets what he wants, it doesn't matter. He was a looker as Tom, remember?
The Nagini part was just a slight ice-breaker and a little humour on my part. Of course, I doubt Medusa is afraid of snakes. LIKE I REALLY DOUBT IT. She's out of characters, but I like to think she's doing it on purpose to tease Voldemort.
BUT!
If I get enough reviews, I'll put another part up. Obviously I'm not hoping for more than …four, because honestly, crossover fic's get a little less attention 'cause they usually suck. But crossover stuff in fanfiction is difficult to do well so THROW ME A FRICKEN BONE HERE.
I'll even include the lemon in the second part if you guys ask. No problem. Might even put a little more in on why they've been coming together.
REVIEW! IF YOU WANT MORE! IF YOU WANT TO SEE DIRTY STUFF!