He had her on her stomach, and the view was absolutely amazing.

Voldemort knelt beside Bellatrix's body as she lay on his bed, and he trailed his fingers very slowly down her spine. They'd taken their pyjamas off slowly, kissing all the while as they stumbled toward the bed. He'd pushed her gently up and urged her onto her belly, and he'd cast a contraceptive charm upon her. Now he dragged a fingernail along her vertebrae, and Bellatrix moaned softly onto the pillow. Voldemort shut his eyes, licking his lips as he went harder than he'd been at the beginning of all this. There was a thick knot in his throat that he couldn't quite swallow past, no matter how hard he tried.

He cupped her backside in one hand and squeezed a little, and Bellatrix arched her back, tipping her arse up into his palm. He tipped his head, feeling profound want for her as the round softness of her bottom registered to his touch. He rubbed at her and squeezed again, harder this time. Small. She was so very small; her entire arse cheek fit into his grip. Voldemort's hand drifted from Bellatrix's backside down to her thigh, and he rubbed and stroked at her skin there. Then he moved his other hand to her shoulder, and he stroked down Bellatrix's arm. She groaned onto the pillow again, a little huff of vocalisation as his hands searched her beautiful body.

Suddenly he felt the need for more, for closeness. Nearness. Just like the prophecies ordered. She was to be near him - right now.

He lay down on the bed beside Bellatrix and pushed her onto her side. She stared at him and looked hungry, her eyes glazed and her lips parted. Voldemort leaned forward and kissed her, letting his cock poke her belly as he edged his tongue between her lips. Bellatrix hummed her delight, squealing quietly when his tongue pulled along the roof of her mouth. Voldemort reached between them and folded his cock up, edging closer until he was flush against her. He reached down between Bellatrix's legs and touched at her clit with two of his fingers. He pulled his mouth off of hers and stared at her, holding her gaze as his fingers pulsed on her nub.

"Master." Bellatrix's eyes fluttered shut and her head fell backward a little, but Voldemort commanded her,

"Open your eyes and look at me, Bellatrix."

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix forced her eyes open, looking woozy as Voldemort pressed his fingers more resolutely against her. She was getting properly wet now, and he adored the feel of her becoming soaked beneath his touch. She reached with a shaking hand for his face, and he let her hold him there, let her fingers convulse against his cheek as he touched her. He slid his forefinger and middle finger inside of her, twisting them a little, and then he pulled them back out and ran them along the slick folds of Bellatrix's womanhood. She squirmed a bit, which made her stomach grind against Voldemort's cock in a most delightful way. He hissed and whispered,

"Again."

She swiveled her hips onto his hand, and the motion made her belly move against the tip of his cock. Voldemort wrenched his eyes shut for a moment and wondered if it was too much, if he would be able to handle it or not. He gulped, trying to work past the knot in his throat, and he whispered,

"Pretty girl… you are very nearly in excess of what I can take just now."

"Master… Master, Master." Bellatrix purred the word over and over, and it sounded so perfect coming from her that Voldemort glared. He was going to lose himself; she was going to make him spill himself all over her stomach. He shook a little bit as he informed her,

"You keep talking like that and you're liable to receive a spanking, Miss Black."

Her breath came hard and fast through clenched teeth at that. She trembled with excitement and tightened around his fingers at the prospect. Suddenly he realised that she wanted to be spanked, and he furrowed his brows a little. He gulped, finally clearing his throat, and he murmured,

"Get on your stomach, Bella."

"Yes, My Lord." She instantly rolled back onto her belly, and Voldemort pulled his hand from her. He was sticky and messy from her, but he couldn't care now. He knelt beside her again, his cock standing at attention, and he stared at the lovely round arse that he had squeezed earlier. Now he knew why she'd liked the attention here so very much. He sighed, feeling his heart race, and he cast a wandless, nonverbal Scouring charm on his hand so that it would be dry and clean when he struck her. Bellatrix folded her arms and lay her head down obediently. Voldemort raised his right hand and brought it down.

Smack!

The bottom of her left cheek instantly glowed pink, and Voldemort felt a heady rush of excitement from the sight. He smacked her on the bottom of her right cheek, seeing the same pink flush there. He walloped her on the round, fleshy parts of her arse, then on the more sensitive top bits. He cycled back through from the bottoms again, and again and again until she was red and moaning. She gripped the pillows and seethed desperately as he struck her over and over again, and finally she screamed at a spank and cried out,

"Master! Please!"

"Please what? Please what?" He couldn't stop now. He kept spanking her, thwacking her roughly a few more times until she sobbed into a pillow and burrowed her fists against it. Her flesh was searing hot and scarlet red, and the next time Voldemort spanked her, he hissed at her, "Beg me to stop, Bellatrix."

"P-Please." She turned her head and sniveled, "I've had enough. Please."

He stopped then, flipping her over like a rag doll until she lay on her back. She yelped as her backside touched the sheets, and on instinct, Voldemort touched his hand to her heated flesh and murmured a painkilling charm. She shut her eyes, sighed, and muttered,

"Oh, I came so hard."

"What?" Voldemort scoffed a little laugh and shook his head. "What do you mean, you came so hard? You didn't…"

"Mmm… halfway through; it drove me absolutely mad," she hummed, her eyes still shut and a peaceful look upon her face. Her nipples were soft, he saw. She'd come down from a high. He stared at her in awe and then kissed her lips carefully, speaking right against her mouth as he declared,

"Glad to be of service by beating you into oblivion, Bella."

She laughed a little and asked onto his lips, "Will you do me the profound honour of entering me now? Master?"

"Hmmm… yes." Voldemort moved to climb atop Bellatrix, and she pulled her knees up to her chest as he arranged himself. He pushed into her, and she grappled at his chest, then found purchase on his arms. She held fast to his biceps as he rocked into her body, and that felt magnificent. Her little round breasts swayed up and down as he pumped into her, and her hair started to come loose of its braid. She squeezed at his arms, and her walls squeezed round his cock. She was so tight, so wet and warm and snug, and Voldemort felt at home inside of her. He shut his eyes and whispered rather desperately,

"Bellatrix, this is…"

He didn't finish. He wasn't sure what he'd meant to say. This is perfect, probably, but it would have sounded too maudlin and clingy and childish. So he just pumped and pumped until his knees started to ache, reminding him that he had forty-five years beneath him. Why was he doing all the work tonight, he wondered? All Bellatrix was doing was lying there and receiving. Receiving spanks and receiving his cock. Time for her to work a little, he reckoned. He pulled out of her and rolled onto his back, and he commanded her,

"Climb onto me."

She wordlessly obeyed him, dragging herself up onto her knees and tossing a leg over his hips. She stared down at him as she slowly sank onto his cock, and that felt so good that Voldemort had to shut his eyes and try his damndest not to come right then and there. Instead he laced his fingers through Bellatrix's right hand, and with his own right hand, he held her hip. She started to move, to sway forward and up, backward and down. Forward and up, backward and down. She established a rhythm quickly, moving easily in her youth. Voldemort watched her lithe body move atop him and marveled at her beauty, at the way her thick braid fell just so over one shoulder, the ends dusting the swell of her breast. He studied the way her tiny waist curved into her narrow hip, the way her thin thighs straddled him. She was almost perfect, he thought. He tried to think of something to change about her appearance, something he disliked on her, but he couldn't. She was… she was marvelous.

She was his.

"Bella." Voldemort choked out her name and remembered the day Abraxas Malfoy had brought him the first prophecy. Voldemort had been more than a little perplexed by it, by the idea that Bellatrix Black was crucial to his success. But right this moment, with his cock sheathed within her, it seemed perfectly natural that the two of them must be together, that she must belong to him. That seemed almost inevitable.

Voldemort began to feel his balls drawing up against his body, and he felt gooseflesh break out all over. Everything felt tight and hot, and he squeezed his hand on Bellatrix's hip. Her fingers tightened on his, as though she knew he was about to snap, and suddenly he heard her murmur gently,

"Fill me, Master."

"Oh." She'd broken him. He cracked like an egg then, losing control entirely as the heat in his heat rushed through his veins. His come leaped up into her body, and she tossed her head back as she stilled her hips and soaked in the way he was spilling himself inside of her. She seemed to revel in it, and that fact enhanced Voldemort's own pleasure greatly. He panted heavily as he watched Bellatrix's mouth fall open, as her fingers went between them and played with the come that leaked back out onto the shaft of Voldemort's cock. He let out a helpless, mewling sort of noise and shut his eyes, for it was all too much.

He started to go soft, and Bellatrix finally climbed off of him. She gasped for breath as she lay naked on her back beside him, and Voldemort kept his eyes shut for a long moment. Finally he reached for his wand off the table beside him, entirely too tired for wandless magic, and he Siphoned and Scoured until they were both clean. He set his wand down and mumbled,

"Well. That was… erm… that was…"

"That was very good," Bellatrix said for him, and Voldemort choked out a little laugh. He opened his eyes and turned his head toward her. He tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear and whispered, just a little too softly,

"That was very good."

The two of them just let that sentence hang there for a while, without saying anything else, until Voldemort started to feel cold. He slithered beneath the blankets, and Bellatrix did the same. They faced one another, still naked, and she finally fretted,

"I hope Maelstrom is all right in the rainbow room all by himself. He's so little."

"I'm sure he's fine," said Voldemort, smirking a bit. "He's a cat. They're quite self-sufficient."

"He's a very small cat," Bellatrix worried, and Voldemort rolled his eyes a little. He shook his head and muttered,

"You ruin me, you realise."

He slid out of bed and walked over to the pile of clothes they'd peeled off of one another. Bellatrix seemed confused as he pulled on underwear and pyjama trousers. He gave her a heavy look and then walked out of the bedroom, stalking down the corridor until he reached the room with the awful rainbow quilt. Inside he found the little black kitten curled up in a ball, asleep. Why he was disturbing this kitten, Voldemort had absolutely no idea. He shook his head and huffed a breath, reaching to pick the thing up. It mewed in protest as he cradled it in his arm and carried it back down the corridor to the black and white room. Inside his own bedroom, he climbed up onto the bed, where Bellatrix was grinning like a madwoman, and he set the kitten down near her feet. She reached down to pet Maelstrom, cooing at him gently, and then she took Voldemort's face in her hands and kissed him hard.

"You," she said between kisses, "are a most merciful master and the best -"

"Stop," he laughed. "All I did was fetch your damned cat."

"Kitten," she corrected him, giggling, but he pulled her down until she was on top of him, and he shook his head.

"It sounds like a more manly deed if it was a cat I fetched, not a kitten."

"Quite so. Dark Lords do not fetch kittens for their prophesied servants," Bellatrix smiled. Voldemort stared up at her, feeling his face go serious.

"Is that what you are?" he asked both of them. "A prophesied servant?"

"What else would I be, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked, hovering over his chest as her braid fell and tickled his shoulder. He shook his head, reaching up to cradle her jaw. He pulled her down and kissed her, quite deeply. He breathed her in, the winter that he tasted and smelled on her, and he suddenly felt more comfortable than he'd felt at any moment in his entire existence. He wanted this - this - to last forever, he thought. He never, ever wanted to climb out of this bed. At the very least, he thought, he wanted to recreate this with her every night. There must always be kissing and talking like this, he told himself, for he quite liked it.

But then, out of nowhere, he felt an awful, searing pain on his left forearm, and he wrenched his mouth off of Bellatrix's. He pushed her back a little, and she gasped as she saw that his Dark Mark had flushed black. He stared at it and shut his eyes.

"Who is it, Master?" Bellatrix asked, the playfulness of her voice utterly gone as she climbed off of him. Voldemort reached out into the ether to feel for who had called him at this hour, and he answered her as soon as he felt the pulse in the darkness.

"It's Abraxas Malfoy," he said, opening his eyes, "and it's urgent. I need to go to Malfoy Manor at once."

Author's Note: Whew! Sorry about that cliffhanger, but this lemon kind of ran away from me, and the next chapter is its own big thing. So, what do you think Abraxas is doing calling Voldemort late at night? Any ideas? I'd love to hear your theories. :} Thanks so very much for reading, and a massive thank you for reviewing!