Obsession
A Voldemort/Bellatrix smut bucket.
'Unrequited love hurts. Walk it off.'
A wave of lust emanated from the woman sitting to his left. Her heavily lidded eyes focused unblinkingly on the distressed woman levitating above the grand mahogany table of the Malfoy manner.
The soft whimpers escaping the huddled form of Charity Burbage were pulling at the corner of Bellatrix's full lips- hooking them into a sharp smirk.
Her arousal from chaos and torture was a continual form of entertainment for the Dark Lord. His curiosity peaked when a particularly high shriek left the muggle studies professor- causing the olive skinned woman to seize her bottom lip in her teeth, and shift uncomfortably.
Her stormy eyes flicked back to her Master, a small wavering in her expression as she attempted to compose herself. A light blush dusted her high cheekbones.
Watching her from his peripherals he flicked the borrowed wand, the curse dancing off his tongue smoothly before the broad form of the aloft woman fell to the table with a lumbered crack.
"Nagini, dinner." He purred, the strong muscles of his beloved serpent tensing against his shoulders as she moved lazily toward her next meal.
The Death Eaters filed out of the grand dining area, one by one. Nodding meekly, some in adoration, some in barely concealed fear- mutterings of 'my lord' were the only sound amidst the swift pops of apparition.
The notable man watched with subtle amusement as the woman of the house stiffly welcomed him to stay as long as he saw fit, a hesitant end to her words as she whispered a praise of, "Anything for you, my lord."
Narcissa's silk blond hair whipped around the corner quickly, leaving him alone with her sister and Nagini.
A spitting hiss and the engorged reptile bounded down the hall after the platinum locked woman, her stride much heavier than usual.
"Colloportus" It was a mere thought, the door at the far end of the long room slammed shut with a lock, breaking the daze of the dark haired woman.
"Anything I can do for you, Master?" Her smoldering eyes lidded, long lashes casting a webbed shadow against the sharp curve of her cheek. The question had an alluring desperation. A plea of obedience.
The smile that curled Voldemort's thin lips would have been charming if it had danced across his once chiseled and handsome features. Though Bellatrix swooned all the same.
"Yes, Bella… There is something you can do for me." His voice was barely above a whisper. He saw her inch closer, hanging on every syllable that dripped from his venomous lips.
"My lord." Her eyes widened with delight.
"I need you to take care of that cur of a sister you have."
There was a long pause before Bella began a stammering of, "B-but my lord-"
"Silence, Bellatrix. You dare to question my orders?" She winced at the use of her full name, a deep rumble emitting from the man's thin chest. "I know about the unbreakable vow. She has to go, and you are the one to do it." His crimson eyes rounded upon her.
She was sunk low in her seat, a tremble in the pout of her bottom lip.
She avoided his gaze, instead choosing to study the thin grain of the polished table. The only thing that rivaled her obedience to the Dark Lord was her unyielding loyalty to her younger sister.
A ghostly pale hand with long, skeletal fingers clutched the back of her ringleted hair, craning her neck painfully.
"She is the weak link to our cause, Bella…" His last word was a purr, his fingers loosened, stroking the curve of her hairline gently. She leaned into his rare touch, her eyes fluttering shut.
"She is weak. And you are…-" He trailed off. Just as her eyes snapped open, imploringly- he seized the back of her thick tresses, lifting her from her chair and tossing her effortlessly against the nearest wall.
A smirk tugged at him. She watched, her own mouth agape as he sauntered towards her. His billowing black robes sweeping the floor with every step.
"You, my dear are-" His icy fingers stroked the hollow of her cheek- delicately tucking a misplaced curl behind the shell of her burning ear.
"Weak." His chuckle was cynical. She whimpered.
"Pathetic." He was close, the heat from his breath fanning out against the curve of her flushed neck. An almost inaudible moan escaped her.
With the use of wandless magic, he restrained her against the chilled brick. She rose up off the ground, her heaving bosom the only allowed movement within her otherwise motionless form.
"You are… so.. darling." Voldemort nearly choked on the last word. She was as easy to play as the tight chords of a Violin, and in the ways of seducing the young witch- he was a maestro.
Though he had used sex as a means of control and manipulation earlier in his rise to power he had never actually touched the woman before him. Not in any discernible sexual manner. She was already panting, his proximity almost too much for her overzealous nerves.
Waving a hovering hand above her blouse- it burst open with ease. Her lungs relished in the freedom. She was devouring oxygen like a dying man.
He could feel the heat spilling off her. His serpent-like features split into a devilish grin.
"Bella, is there anything -i- can do for you? Any…repayment you desire?"
Charm tumbled from his words- the smooth seduction of honey and promise.
Love and affection were the ultimate symbols of weakness in his opinion, but feigning the latter as a means to an end?
He was in the mood for a game. How far could little Bella go before she snapped. Would she resort to savagely ending her sister with her bare hands? The stoic body of the lithe woman, brought to him as a trophy of dedication?
He felt a bubble of heat rise in his abdomen at the thought.
"Master.." She hissed. Her accent sloppily parted, a pink tongue darting out to moisten parched lips.
"Bella. Beauty." He coo'd, a single nail tracing the dip of her collarbone.
She had once been the vision of her namesake. Glowing olive skin- bronzed by the daring sun, now ashen and pale from many years in the trenches of Azkaban. Her steely slate eyes a tarnished grey, embodied by shadows and bags- madness brimming at edge of her waterline. Her aristocratic features sunken from undernourishment, aged less like fine wine and more akin to a curdled brew.
She could have been ravishing.
"Can I have you. My lord."
Before gracing her with an answer, his lips ghosted hers. A shudder quaked her entire body, his mouth moving deliberately against hers- a mere breath between them.
"Of course, my pet." And with a snap her clothes fell in a heavy heap on the floor.