Bellatrix & Rodolphus
"Rodolphus."
Bellatrix shakes her muscular husband, who is in a deep sleep on their bed, without getting any sort of a response.
"Rodolphus."
A soft growl escapes his lips, and she laughs, before prodding her finger into his side.
"Bella, I'm tired." His voice is deep and would surely intimidate or threaten any person alive.
Apart from his wife.
Moving on top of him, Bellatrix rests her flush on Rodolphus' chest, straddling him. His eyelids snap open, revealing yellow, cat-like irises. Cocking one eyebrow, he raises a rough hand and buries it into Bellatrix's black curls. A low and rumbling chuckle fills the room, but she does not moan the words he constantly longs to hear. Instead, she sighs a command with a childlike attitude.
"You need to get up. You know my Mother. Even though I'm almost twenty she acts as if I'm a nine year old."
Eyes roaming around her cleavage, he smirks.
"What if we don't go?"
As tempting as Bellatrix finds that, she laughs again, knowing that her Mother will find a way to embarrass herself without the eldest Black daughter being there.
"That wouldn't work."
Rodolphus smashes his lips against her own, biting down slightly on her tongue. He slaps her around her bloody perfect face, and she giggles–a noise that is most peculiar and equally rare to hear from Bellatrix' lips–in pleasured satisfaction.
"What was that for?"
"Waking me up."
"But you need to come with me!" she whines, tracing the Dark Mark printed on Rodolphus' muscular left arm.
He grabs her slender wrist, knowing that even though Bella is acting as though she never consumed seven bottles of alcohol last night, her hangovers have proven to put her life in danger around the Dark Lord in the past.
So, it would not bode well for her to summon the Dark Lord when she is clad in only black lingerie.
Sitting up so she slides down onto his lap, he kisses her gently on the flesh that belongs to her cheek, which is currently blossoming with purple bruises.
"Get dressed," he murmurs, "I'll fix your face for you."
She snorts. "It's not that bad. You make it sound as if you smashed it up."
Grinning apologetically, Rodolphus watches her put on a thin over-robe.
"I could do that, too, if you wish."