Chapter 26: A God Lies Down in Love
"A toast! A toast!" Lord Voldemort called to his followers, where they were gathered at a jubilant celebration at Malfoy Manor. "To the just end of those blood-traitorous scum, Fabian and Gideon Prewett! You, my disciples, have dispatched a great enemy and struck a severe blow against the renegades, the so-called Order of the Phoenix!" A throaty cheer went up from many of the dark and cloaked figures assembled. Bellatrix led a round of applause, whooping with gusto and beaming with complete adoration at the man – no, more than man, the deity – who had made this all possible.
For much of the night, she tried her best to get her Lord alone, even to just take a few moments to congratulate him for his brilliant stratagem, but he was currently being mobbed by other admirers. The Prewett brothers had been feared Aurors, enough that many of Bella's colleagues were not dwelling on – indeed, avoiding stressing as much as possible – the fact that it had taken five of their own just to bring down a scrappy pair of twin brothers. Antonin Dolohov had walked away from the fight, though barely; hushed whispers were going about the reception hall discussing how his wounds were considerable. Cissy, their mother Druella, and a few of the other Death Eater wives were attending to him in a makeshift triage in the Manor's upstairs quarters.
Bella made no moves to look after the fate of her husband; Rodolphus had been among the strike team to take down the brothers, and he'd emerged with barely a scratch on him. He was probably the most unscathed out of all of them, as Bella now caught sight of the man she had married from across the room: he was drinking himself sick with his brother and fellow comrade from this night, Rabastan.
Bella suddenly whirled around with a shiver as she felt a palm – cool to the touch – reach for and grasp her hand. Trembling, she lifted her eyes through fluttering lashes and nearly fainted staring into the amber pools of her Lord and Master's stare.
"My all-powerful senses tell me you wish to speak with me, Bella?" Voldemort's voice was like soft velvet, coming out in a croon.
"Y-yes," Bella stuttered, blushing furiously in spite of herself.
"Far be it from me to refuse an audience with a well-wisher. Come, my dear."
Bella quivered thrillingly at being referred to as the Dark Lord's 'dear' and allowed him to lead her by the hand up the stairs and to the second floor corridor, down to an upstairs bedroom. She wasn't ashamed to say that she only looked back once as she and her Master left the party, and it was only to absently check that her husband wouldn't succumb to alcohol poisoning to excess and Rabastan's poor observational skills.
Bella heard a click of the lock as Voldemort sealed them inside this empty bedroom. She spun about happily.
"My most gracious and brilliant Lord, your wisdom should be praised by and for all the ages! You have yet again executed another coup de grace against the infidels….!" Her oft-rehearsed exaltation suddenly sputtered to a halt as Voldemort suddenly floated quite close to her, moving with such speed and assertiveness, his feet didn't appear to be touching the ground. His sudden proximity made Bella's heart race. From the smoldering look in His eye, she was terrified she had somehow unknowingly done something to displease him.
"My Lord, have I done something to….?"
Voldemort's lips were suddenly on hers, roughly, slanting. Bella let out a pretty gasp into his mouth. If she had cared a whit for her husband and for preserving her marriage, she may have found the restraint to not completely melt into this god's embrace, as she did now. Only the respectability of being a good lady of pureblood society made her refrain – however briefly – from giving into her own lust and the ardor of the Dark Lord's advances. When she wrenched from the deep kiss at last, it was mostly so as to let air return to her lungs. Even with a gulping intake of oxygen, her brain still spun.
Blinking dumbly, all while trying to avoid having elation appear too clearly on her face, Bella gawped. "My Lord! I…. I shall scream!"
Voldemort merely grinned at her wickedly, lecherously, though his eyes of liquid gold flashed with what Bella supposed might be anguish. "Oh, pity me, my most good and loyal servant, for I am god and not mere man! Yet, I have been tempted, as man is, by the sin of a woman's supple flesh – yours, madame!"
Bellatrix was absolutely ecstatic, even as she attempted to demur. She made a show of fanning herself. "Gracious! Whatever have I done to deserve such pursuit?"
"Your worship of me! Your devotion to our most worthy aims, the Cause!" Stealing his arms about her waist, Voldemort pulled her close. "And your beauty, my dear! If my desire displeases you, say so now, and I shall release you."
Bella let a plaintive moan escape her swollen, very-kissed lips. With a sigh, she sank her fingers into the perfectly parted, brown curls adorning his most handsome crown. "I am honored that a dark angel has deigned to desire me as his earthly mate. My – My Lord…." And here her eyes filled with joyful tears. "I shan't leave you in agony by refusing your proposition to me. May it be done to me according to your will."
Grinning, Voldemort kissed Bellatrix dizzyingly again, and this time, her return of his kiss was even more brazen. She squirmed in shocked glee at how his holy palms dipped lower past her slim waist to feel up, cup, squeeze the round cheek of her bum through her dress. With the other palm, he managed to grip the underside of her thigh, and Bella groaned as her Lord purposefully hitched her leg up, to curl about his waist. The fluid motion opened up her hips tantalizingly and when the first clear evidence of his desire for her pressed against her center, Bella could feel her knickers flood with dampness. Within moments, she was very, very wet.
In the moments before her brain ceased to function completely, she wondered if her Lord was an expert in seduction, as he seemed to maneuver her with practiced ease towards the edge of the bed in this room. Bella felt the back of her knee not currently curled about Voldemort's torso hit the foot of the bed and she tumbled backwards onto the mattress, taking this man who aimed to be her lover with her. Had the Dark Lord taken other women as lovers? Had he formed a harem? She dearly hoped this was not the case, and should there be evidence to this point, Bella was quite confident that she would dispatch and kill any other wenches who might have turned to them the eye of her beloved Master's favor. The sheer jealousy of the very possibility made her blood burn, but never so much as the reality that the only one that she loved was now kissing her, touching her so that her very skin seemed to become alight with flame. A draft suddenly tickled her breasts, and Bella dreamily realized it was because Voldemort had ripped the bodice of her dress down off of her chest, revealing her peaked, budded, purple nipples to the cool, springtime air. She writhed in ectasy as she felt Voldemort pucker his unblemished, perfect lips upon her breast and suckle at her tit, slobbering her boob with his tongue, and her moan shook through a whimpering cry.
"My….. My Looooooorrrrrrdddddd…" She willingly, happily spread her legs for him, so that he might nestle and dwell there in her holiest of places, and once the rutting couple had lined up their entrances, Bella lifted her knees to keep him trapped and close, safely pinned to her. Voldemort shoved his thigh against her still-maddeningly clothed heat and rubbed himself there, humping her and Bella let out an astonished scream.
As an immortal found it worthy and just to attend to her, Bella was suddenly struck by a debilitating fear that nearly made her weep. It was not fear of making love with this man, for she dearly wished – indeed, it was her greatest wish – for him to see her as his. For him to lie in heat and passion with her.
"My – My Lord…." She stuttered, even as Voldemort grunted and with a wave of his wand so expert it was almost lazy, he vanished both all of his clothes as well as hers. Bella could feel her arousal flooding from out between her legs and staining the bedclothes beneath them. "I…. I don't know how to please you…."
Voldemort merely crawled on top of her, pinned and held her down and Bella arched her back, her hips lifting, pushing up to meet and cradle his. She needed that friction….. Oh….. Oh, Salazar Slytherin be praised, she needed Him inside of her…..!
"I barely know the art of copulating. I have not lain down in love with a man since even before my wedding night!" Some other pureblood women might have found that a more difficult thing to admit – that she had never consummated her marriage with her husband – but not Bellatrix. She and Rodolphus had come to an understanding, after they had married.
She swooned as Voldemort kissed her again to silence her prattling, his tongue forcing open and swimming past her parted lips, until he was not only kissing his mistress there, but also everywhere he could reach along her face. Bella keened in yearning delight at the thought that he might kiss down the entire length of his body, perhaps even put his mouth there, in her holiest of places. She dearly hoped he would. Even so, she attempted – rather unconvincingly – to play the part of a woman reluctant to enter relations with a man who was not her husband.
"Oh… Oh, by your Grace, I have never felt like this…. Never! Never….. Nev-ahhhhhhh…" She choked out a breath and rocked into Voldemort's cock as it now penetrated her femininity, before he was thrusting deep inside her like someone who craved release. And perhaps he did. Even a hero – nay, an idol – has urges which need satisfying. "Ahhhhhhh…. AHHHHHHHHHH!... AHHHHHHHHH!"
Bellatrix's voice rose almost operatically in volume and pitch with every pump of Voldemort's hips that now plowed her into the mattress. With only a few strokes, she came with a shriek of ecstasy; Voldemort responded by grinding into her faster still while grunting, until he too ejaculated into her fluttering lower walls.
Her body growing limp and noodly under his even as his toned physique was liable to crush her, Bella dazedly drew her arms languidly about her Lord's proud neck, her fingernails digging into his immaculate and strong shoulder blades. Between languorous kisses, Bella lifted her voice in songs of genuflection and praise, dazed with wonder at the feeling of him joining her to him, impaling himself on her, and thus making them one:
"Ahhhhhhh, sweet mystery of life, at last I've found thee!" Voldemort merely jerked his pelvis again and orgasmed within her for the second time. I briefly dawned on Bella that neither of them had cast the charm for Contraception, but she did not care. If the heavens wished it, she would view falling pregnant by her Master as something like a gift, despite her views on children. Any baby sired by the Dark Lord would possess only the finest magical blood, and she would consider it an honor to provide her Lord with an heir, even if the act of child rearing left her repulsed. "Ahhhhhh, at last I know the secret of it all…!"
Bella nearly cried at her own good fortunate when she dared to be so bold as to flip Voldemort onto his back and straddle him. Sitting astride his perfectly shaped thighs, her hands pressed lightly into his firm chest, she rode him exuberantly, moaning and groaning and grunting and sighing, as she and her God played the Beast with Two Backs.
Bella was still bouncing on her paramour when the door suddenly opened and her clearly very drunk husband walked in on his wife and their Master performing the dirty deed. It was obvious Rodolphus recognized the coupling – indeed, his own cuckolding – for what it was, despite his inebriation, and yet he raised not a word in anger, much less his voice. Bella continued to bounce on Voldemort's manliness, staring her husband down almost brazenly, until the man finally, with bloodshot eyes, backed away and soflty, slowly closed the door behind where his wife was still exuberantly coupling with another. And just any other – their very Master.
Even under the influence, listening to the receding sounds of Bella moaning, Voldemort shouting out his pleasure, the creak of the bedsprings as the pair had exuberant sex, Rodolphus Lestrange conceded that if he must be a cuckolded husband, it was at least an honor and a privilege to share the woman he had wed with the Master who was going to be the Savior of their people.