His kisses felt like their own kind of magic. As Bellatrix lay on the bed beside him, cradled up against him beneath his blanket, she felt a buzz between them. The lightning flashed and the thunder cracked, but all Bellatrix could feel was him.

He tasted like spearmint. His hands were warm - one on her back, and the other on her cheek. He was groaning a little, his voice soft and low as his lips pulled at hers. Bellatrix wasn't sure what to do with her hands, but she finally decided that she wanted his pyjama shirt off. She started to unbutton it, and when she did, his breath hitched a little against her mouth.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I don't really know what I'm doing."

"No?" he asked, and he rolled onto his back. He dug his fists into his eyes and said quietly, "Of course you don't. You're only eighteen. You're only eighteen. Blazes."

"Well, what does that matter?" Bellatrix asked rather indignantly, and he scoffed,

"I'm forty-three."

"So?" She pushed herself up onto an elbow, and he gave her a playful little look as he reached up to tuck her curls behind her ear. More lightning flashed outside, and he told her,

"So, I'm either very lucky, or you've got very poor taste in men, or perhaps both."

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows and decided to keep unbuttoning his pyjama shirt, and she said quite haughtily, "I think my taste is just fine, thank you."

He laughed a little, and then his eyes seemed a bit nervous. Bellatrix realised why when she opened his flannel shirt and pushed it away from his chest, revealing a rather shocking scar that ran in a a huge, smooth rivulet from one shoulder down to his opposite hip. She tried not to stare, but she couldn't help herself. He looked like someone had sliced him right open.

"It was a Manticore in Albania," he informed her. "A very angry Manticore; it was guarding something I wanted, and it was not pleased when I gained access."

Bellatrix was awed then, amazed that he'd been in a situation where he'd been fighting off a Manticore. She blinked a few times and met his eyes, smiling a little, and he cocked up an eyebrow as he asked,

"What, you aren't horrified that I was stealing something from an Albanian Dark witch and her pet dangerous beasts?"

"I'm intrigued," Bellatrix said honestly, "and impressed."

"Hmm." Voldemort seemed to like that. He shifted a little where he lay, and he informed her, "This scar is the best the Healers could do, even with their mad Gypsy magic. If I hadn't had my… well, suffice it to say that I am very lucky to alive. I'll take the scar."

"I think it gives you character," Bellatrix told him, and he snorted a laugh. Thunder boomed outside, and Bellatrix shivered as the windows shook. Voldemort shucked his shirt then, tossing it aside, and Bellatrix felt her eyes go wide as she studied the broad build of his shoulders and chest. He wasn't tightly toned, but he was substantial, and her breath quickened. She felt herself go a bit wet between her legs, and her eyes felt heavy all of a sudden.

"Bellatrix," he said quietly, jerking her back to attention. She found his eyes, and he dragged his fingertips up her arm as he asked, "Will you take the nightgown off?"

"Mmm-hmm." She peeled the loose garment off before she could stop herself, tossing it quickly off the bed and shaking a little as she knelt above Voldemort. She tried not to cover herself up, though she was immediately very self-conscious. His mouth fell open, though, and his hand reached up to gently caress her right breast. Bellatrix's head fell back a bit on instinct, and she let out a little noise as he squeezed just enough. His thumb dragged over the nipple that had gone very hard, and that felt so good that Bellatrix moaned. She arched her back a bit, pushing her breast against his hand, and he said softly,

"Come down here."

She obeyed, joining him back under the blankets where it was warm. The rain lashed the window harder than ever, but the sound was somehow a fine backdrop as Bellatrix stared into Voldemort's dark eyes. He looked hungry as he used his hand to massage her other breast, as he studied her face.

"You are very beautiful," he informed her. "I thought so the moment you walked into my office asking for help. You're pretty. So pretty."

"Oh." Her eyes welled at that, to hear him talk about her like that, and suddenly she needed to kiss him again. She needed more than that. She rolled a little, and suddenly she was straddling him beneath the blankets, lying snugly atop him, kissing him hard.

"Mmph…" He held her backside through her soft knickers, squeezing there, and he rolled her hips down onto his. She felt the length of his erection beneath her, and she whimpered into his mouth, soaking wet now. She wanted him so badly that she was trembling from head to foot, and she finally collapsed down onto him, burying her face into the crook of his neck and whispering,

"I've never… I don't know how."

"I'll show you," he promised, and Bellatrix squeezed a tear from one eye as she remembered how he'd done the same thing the night of the wedding. She was a terrible dancer, she'd said apologetically. I'll lead you, he'd promised. She planted a few kisses on his neck, grinding her hips down against his. He seemed to like when she licked and sucked a little at his neck, for he tipped his head back and buried his hands into her curls.

It felt so good to move atop him, to rub herself against him. Everything was going warm. Everything was tightening up. This was starting to feel like when Bellatrix touched herself and she neared the edge, the peak, the little burst at the end. She gasped against Voldemort's neck, and she heard him murmur quietly,

"Don't stop."

She wouldn't have been able to even if she'd wanted. She ground harder and harder, faster and faster until she had to move her mouth to his and kiss him through it. He untangled his fingers from her hair and held her cheeks as she came, as everything clenched and cinched and burst within her. She cried out a little, feeling shaky and helpless above him. After a long moment, he rolled with her, moving them until she was on her back, and he said cautiously,

"You'll forgive me if I don't presume any existing contraception on your end."

"What? Oh. Erm… no. I wasn't… no." Bellatrix was dizzy. Thirsty. She still wanted him so, so badly. She slithered out of her knickers, and suddenly there was the tip of a wand aimed at her lower abdomen.

"Nongravidare," incanted Voldemort, and Bellatrix felt a warmth spread oddly through her belly. She just nodded up at him, and he was red-cheeked as he set his wand on the table beside the bed. He knelt up before her, and she watched him yank down his pyjama trousers and kick them away.

Then, there it was. His… cock. It wasn't ugly, like the girls had insisted, Bellatrix thought. She was drawn to it like a moth to flame, reaching out to wrap her fingers around the hard length. Voldemort grunted a little when she did, and he hissed when she dragged her thumb up and over the dewy tip.

"Oh… oh." He pulled her hand away and shook his head, telling her lightly, "Not if you want it to last. Sorry."

Bellatrix was confused by that, and then she realised what he meant. It felt too good, having her touch him. He'd finish too soon. She smiled at that thought, at the idea that he liked to be touched by her. She lay on her back and stared up him with hungry eyes, and she asked,

"Will you do it to me now, My Lord?"

"Call me what you did before," he whispered, and she nodded, reaching up for his cock again. She stared right him, waiting until he'd met her gaze for a few seconds, and as she drew circles on him with her thumb, she asked,

"Will you put this inside me, Master?"

"Oh. Oh… oh, bloody hell." He shut his eyes and let out a very shaky breath, and he bent over a little, tearing her hand off of him. He seemed to be calming himself down for a moment, collecting himself, and finally he let out a little whimpering sound and shook his head. "This is not going to last, and for that I do apologise, but… well… anyway. Mmph."

He carefully parted Bellatrix's knees, and when he moved to hover above her, she thought she'd come again just from the sight of him. His scar cut roughly across his chest, and suddenly she was imagining him in a fight with a Manticore. She blinked quickly as he aimed himself at her entrance, and she remembered what the girls said, that the first time was awful and that it was fun after that. This didn't feel so awful.

When he pushed in, it did pinch and burn a little, but it was nothing she couldn't bear. She felt very full, very stretched, and she liked it so much that she desperately reached for Voldemort's arms to brace herself. She brought her knees up closer to her chest, and as he began to slowly pump his hips, he groaned quite loudly.

"Bellatrix!" He sounded desperate, like he was trying to stave off the inevitable, and he shook his head wildly. His face contorted like he was in pain, and he jerked his hips so fervently that Bellatrix yelped in discomfort. She winced at how deeply he thrust, and then, very abruptly, his hips stopped moving and he hissed,

"Shit. Fucking… sorry."

"What? Have I done something wrong?" Bellatrix breathlessly stared up at him, but he just shook his head again, and then she felt hot liquid seeping out between the two of them, and she realised he'd already finished. Was sex as quick as that, she wondered? She was a little confused as he huffed and slid out of her, lying on his back beside her and sucking hard on his bottom lip as he said,

"I… it's been twenty years. So. And, also, I am rather embarrassingly attracted to you."

Bellatrix reached between her legs and felt sticky liquid there. She brought her fingers up and studied them, and she thought that this must be his come. She wiped her fingers on the sheets and confessed,

"I don't know how long it's meant to last. I thought it was nice."

He laughed then, somewhat bitterly, and he pulled her down until she snuggled against him.

"It's meant to last a lot longer than that," he said, a bit sadly. "I ruined your first time. Sorry."

"Ruined?" She stared up at him as a frightening crack of thunder ripped through the air. She startled at the sound and then insisted again, "I liked it."

He smirked and promised her, "You'd like it a lot more if it were done properly. In any case, you should get some rest as soon as this storm dies down. Early morning with Yaxley and all."

"Oh. Yes. Of course." Bellatrix hauled herself out of the bed, deciding to just hold her knickers since she'd have to go clean up in the bathroom. She was oozing his seed between her legs, and she felt rather awkward as she pulled on her nightgown. Voldemort sat up in his bed and offered,

"You don't have to go. You… you could stay. If you wanted."

Bellatrix stared at him, feeling far more emotional all of a sudden than she'd expected to feel. She studied his eyes, the way he dragged his fingers through his dark hair, and she shook her head a little. She remembered the girls' reaction to the idea of her dating him, the way she'd recoiled and scoffed at the notion. She gave him a warm smile and lied,

"I don't want to disturb your sleep any more than the storm's already doing. Early morning. So."

"Oh. Yes. Early morning." He licked his bottom lip and nodded, and he cleared his throat a bit as he stammered, "I don't… I… erm… thank you."

Bellatrix balled up her knickers in her hand and just nodded, feeling her cheeks go very hot.

"Goodnight, My Lord."

As she left, feeling suddenly like she should go hide under the blankets in the blue bedroom, she heard him say quietly,

"Night, Bellatrix."

Author's Note: Awww. Poor Voldemort; he's not some indomitable sex god. He's just a guy who got really, really excited about the sexy girl in his bed. Hehehehe. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. I'm off to bed… early morning and all. ;)