Rodolphus held him for a long time, but it wasn't nearly long enough for Rabastan. He felt a pang when his brother pulled away at last.
"Stay here," Rodolphus said quietly. "I have to go back to the party. Shall- shall I–" His voice shook briefly, and he swallowed and continued, "Shall I tell Andromeda to go home without you… that you're going to stay here and- and rest?"
Rabastan nodded and curled up on the sofa when Rodolphus was gone. His hands were shaking, and though he tried to calm himself, he felt shaky and a little disoriented, and he couldn't help replaying the events of the evening.
He shouldn't have kissed his brother. He shouldn't have done it where they could be caught. He shouldn't have tortured Druella. He shouldn't have done it in front of Rodolphus. Rodolphus was probably out at the party, stewing silently over where he'd gone wrong and how he'd let Rabastan learn things like the Cruciatus curse.
And that rankled too – badly. In his mind, he replayed what Rodolphus had said. You're only a child.
He wasn't a child. He was eighteen, old enough to be married, old enough to have affairs, old enough to be desired and old enough to be a Death Eater. Of course he knew what the Cruciatus curse was and how to use it. Rodolphus shouldn't be sheltering him…
But of course, he was just trying to protect him. He just wanted to keep Rabastan safe, that was all. He only meant to be a good brother.
But still…
Rabastan curled up into a tight ball on the sofa, closed his eyes, and tried not to think about it. Instead he thought about the night ahead, and how Rodolphus must want him, really want him and not just be pitying him, because he was going to tell Andromeda that Rabastan was staying the night, and he had promised out in the gardens that they would have the chance to do more…
He let out a long, soft shudder, thinking of the way that, in just a few hours, he would be on top of beautiful, perfect brother…
He must have drifted to sleep, because the next thing he was aware of was Rodolphus's voice, quietly saying, "Rab… Rab, wake up."
Rabastan's eyes snapped open and he sat up immediately. Rodolphus closed the parlour door and stepped in, then leaned against the door. He looked drawn and nervous, but the corners of his mouth turned up when he looked at Rabastan. At least he was trying to smile.
Rabastan stood and reached out, and Rodolphus pulled him up against him, into a tight embrace.
"Andromeda's gone," he murmured. "The party's over. Why don't you come up to bed?"
Rabastan was more than willing. The manor was eerily silent now that everyone had gone, and the candelabras and moonlight outside cast the corridors in an eerie, flickering light that made shivers run down Rabastan's spine, but he followed his brother upstairs without hesitation. Only when they reached the door of Rodolphus and Bellatrix's bedroom and Rodolphus stepped in did Rabastan hesitate.
"Where's Bellatrix?"
"Out." Rodolphus pulled him in and sank onto the bed, letting him straddle him. "She's gone out. With friends, I think." He ran a hand down his back, and Rabastan moaned quietly and rubbed himself closer against his brother. "She said she'd be out all night."
"She did?" It was more than he could have hoped for. He had expected hushed if passionate lovemaking in the parlour or a spare bedroom, but if Bellatrix was gone, they could spend the whole night in Rodolphus's bedroom, and they wouldn't have to worry about being quiet or getting caught for a moment of it.
"Yes…" Rodolphus looked down, his eyebrows drawing together slightly. "I would have thought that she'd want to spend the night of her birthday with her husband…"
Rabastan could feel himself blushing. "Did you want to spend the night with her instead? Would you rather be in bed with her?"
"Rab, she's my wife!" Rodolphus pulled back, looking hurt.
"And I'm your brother," Rabastan finished for him. Even to himself, he sounded bitter and sulky when he added, "and who would rather go to bed with their brother than their wife?"
"Don't be like that, Rab…"
"I'm glad she went out with her friends." Rabastan leaned over him, and gripped his shoulder, then brushed his teeth lightly against his neck. "This way, you don't have to go to bed with her – I want you and she doesn't. And you don't really…" He kissed him hard, and rested his forehead against his to whisper, "You don't really want her, do you? What would you want with a woman like her?"
"Don't!" Rodolphus's voice turned suddenly sharp. "I enjoy going to bed with her, you know! And what's that supposed to mean, 'a woman like her'? She's a beautiful woman, that's what she is; what do you expect from me? You don't expect me to want her? For God's sake, Rab, I'm not a fucking queer!"
Rabastan felt like he had been hit in the stomach.
"Is that what you think I am?" he hissed. "'A fucking queer'?"
"Oh- oh Rab…" Rodolphus's voice went quiet. "I didn't mean that – you know I didn't mean that."
"And how can you say you're not when you've got me sitting on your lap like this?" He shifted even closer against him until he could feel his heartbeat, feel his cock beneath his trousers, and see the way the muscles around his mouth worked as he pressed his lips together tightly. "You're not a fucking queer, but you like having me on top of you."
"It's only for you," he mumbled. "It's only because I love you, Rab; I wouldn't be this way for any other man."
"Like Hell you wouldn't." Rabastan kissed his brother hard before he could protest, and pushed him back onto the bed. "Don't you like it, Rod? Don't you like having a man on top of you?"
"No, I like having you on top of me."
"Liar," Rabastan hissed through his teeth. Anger was twisting his stomach, but more than that, he was dizzy with the feeling of having his brother all to himself, without Bellatrix in the way, and having power over him, even if it was only a little. "Don't you enjoy me more than Bellatrix?"
"Because I love you, not because you're a man!"
"So do you only want Bellatrix because she's a woman, then?" Rabastan softened his tone a little as he popped the buttons of Rodolphus's shirt open. "Do you not really love her?"
Rodolphus's voice shook a little. "It's different."
"I don't think it's all that different." He was working on his trousers now, and Rodolphus groaned a little. "I think you just want me more than you want her, and you're scared to admit that, because you don't want to be a fucking queer."
"You're being so unfair."
Rabastan broke off. His hands were shaking and sweaty, and he looked down at his half-undressed brother, breathing heavily.
"I just hate thinking of you and her. I hate that you want her."
Rodolphus seemed hesitant for a moment, but then he reached up and pulled Rabastan flat against him.
"I love you, Rab," he whispered, and he sounded hurt. "Don't you believe me?"
"I–" Rabastan swallowed, all the anger and all the sense of power draining away at once, leaving him feeling empty and weak. "Of- of course I do."
"Then stop talking about Bellatrix and stop comparing how I feel about her to how I feel about you," he said, a little more firmly, and he moved his hand down Rabastan's back and slid it beneath the waistband of his trousers. "If I didn't want you, you wouldn't be here."
Rabastan found that all he could do was nod and make a small noise of assent, and he was relieved when Rodolphus kissed his lips and he was no longer expected to say anything.
Rodolphus was steadier, more confident than he had been last time, and that gave Rabastan confidence as well. It was so satisfying, such a pleasure to have his brother underneath him and moaning for him, even if thoughts of Bellatrix hovered at the back of his mind. He could feel his brother's strong thighs clenching on either side of him and feel moans rumbling in his chest, and he loved the way he could feel him tense and jerk in response to every thrust he gave, and just as he was nearing the edge, just as he was about to whisper as much to his brother, a stabbing, burning pain shot through his arm.
Rabastan cried out, jerking back and clutching his arm.
"Rab!" Rodolphus sounded equal parts horrified and frustrated, and Rabastan felt his brother's hands scrabbling at him. "Rab, what's the matter; did I hurt you?"
"N- no- it's the Dark Mark." Tears were coming to Rabastan's eyes, and the longer he waited, the more intense the pain got. He scrambled up, grabbing for his dress robes from where he had discarded them.
"Can't it wait?" Rabastan didn't think he had ever heard his brother plead like that before, but plead he did. "Please, Rab, you can't go running off – I need you…"
"I have to." He ached, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed beside his brother, but the pain in his arm was overwhelming. He glanced down briefly, then looked away, sickened. The fine black scars of the Dark Mark were swollen and red, angry as they had been when they were first burned.
"Please hurry back," Rodolphus pleaded, and Rabastan nodded, barely blinking back tears, then Disapparated.
The pain disappeared the moment Rabastan set foot inside the Dark Lord's building, but he didn't take time to savour it, instead practically sprinting up the stairs towards his flat. His robes were probably not done up correctly, and he felt dizzy and sick, but he didn't slow down, thinking only of Rodolphus, laying there in bed, frustrated and abandoned.
The door to the flat was closed, and Rabastan paused and listened at it briefly. He thought he could hear voices, mumbling indistinctly, but he couldn't be sure. When he touched the doorknob, he found it unlocked.
The front room was empty. Once inside, Rabastan could distinctly hear noises coming from the bedroom, but they weren't noises that seemed to indicate a meeting or emergency. They were soft, rhythmic thumps, and quiet, distinctly feminine moans.
Rabastan edged forward, heart hammering. He ought to leave, but he just couldn't bring himself to. The bedroom door was ajar, and Rabastan peered in.
There was the Dark Lord. Even from the back, Rabastan could recognize him, his bone-thin body working beneath the shirt and trousers that were clearly open. His narrow hips were moving back and forth quickly and roughly, and his heavy breathing was audible. But Rabastan's eyes travelled immediately past him, to the person pressed between him and the wall.
She was tall, almost as tall as the Dark Lord himself, for she had one foot just barely touching the ground for balance. The other leg was locked around the Dark Lord's waist. Her skirt was hitched up around her hips, and the front of the bodice lowered to show off pale breasts. The Dark Lord had his hand on one breast, while the other pinned her arm above her head, and his fingers were just inches from a raw, glistening Dark Mark. She had her head bent, kissing his neck and jaw, and her face was obscured by her mass of black curls, but Rabastan didn't need to see her face.
But he did see her face.
Bellatrix raised her head, and she looked him directly in the eye as she moaned, "Oh, Master, that feels so good."
