"Bella, must we do this with a knife? Something... unspeakable... might happen," Snape murmured into her ear.
"I don't care. Let it happen. It's not for cutting things off anyway. Just... cutting," she snarled, tearing off his shirt, momentarily taking in his smooth, untouched body.
"Bella, for God's sake, just forget the knife. I know you can hurt me in other ways, you don't need to be crude."
She roughly took his hand and ran his finger along the edge of the blade, before setting it down on the table next to the bed.
Bellatrix reached her hands into Snape's trousers and supported her leg on his. He was silent and controlled; the only noise he made was the sound of his heavy breathing. There was no gentleness or calmness in their touch; there was too much anger and hatred running through their veins to be able to restrain themselves. This was not about pleasuring the other. This was solely a release, an understanding between them. No feelings, except hatred and distrust.
Bellatrix longed to cry out, to scream, but his silence forbade her. She ran a fingernail along his shoulders, erratically as he moved inside her, but deep enough to leave a thin trail of blood. As she ran her tongue down this newly formed scar, he thrust into her once more.
"I...fucking...hate... you," she whispered unsteadily, shuddering as the familiar waves of pleasure engulfed her.
A few seconds separated their climaxes; she bit his lip as he came, causing his mouth to fill with blood. She impatiently kissed him, hungrily tasting his blood which she swallowed bitterly.
"Don't worry, I hate you too," Snape growled, after they he had recovered.
It was the perfect set-up. They could fulfil their own desires with no affection to complicate things. The only thing was, there was a lot of pressure on both of them not to feel anything, and that ruined it, especially for Bellatrix, who had never been in love. She had suggested it; Snape had only gone along with it because she had definitely been in control in that conversation.
"I know you want it..." she teased, running her wand down his naked body. He wondered how he lad let himself become so vulnerable in such a short space of time; he did not remember taking off his clothes and he had no recollection of where he could have put his wand.
He could not deny that he wanted 'it', whatever 'it' was that she was implying. He could not focus on anything besides the throbbing between his legs, and he knew she wasn't going to give up easily if at all.
Suddenly she was kneeling, and her hot mouth had surrounded him, and it took all the strength he had to keep standing. He wrapped his hands in her hair, longing for control, enough control to be able to walk away.
But he was only human. Who could walk away from that kind of pleasure? Someone stronger than you, he thought to himself. Someone a whole lot stronger than you.
And then she brought him over the edge and he stopped thinking altogether. And that was when he realised there was no way he could turn that down. It was wrong on about a million different levels but from that moment on, he was in her hands.