Bellatrix's eyes flew open at the sound of banging on her suite door. She sprang out of bed, for the knocking was so insistent that she reckoned something must be terribly, horribly wrong. She flew across her bedroom with dancing steps and through the sitting room, and then she flung open the suite door to see Lord Voldemort standing before her in black flannel pyjamas, swaying a little where he stood, smelling strongly of firewhisky.

"My Lord," Bellatrix breathed, "is everything all right?"

"Hello," he said, his voice something of a drawl. Bellatrix frowned.

"You've been drinking," she guessed, and he shrugged a little.

"I have. May I come in?"

Bellatrix moved aside and let him pass, and then she shut the door and knitted her fingers together as she asked again,

"Is everything all right, My Lord?"

"I… am irritated," he said, his eyes blinking slowly. Bellatrix raised her brows and nodded.

"Irritated," she repeated, and he said,

"You are still his."

Bellatrix sighed a little, turning up the sconce on the wall beside her so she could see her master better. She swallowed hard and reminded him,

"I had no say in marrying Rodolphus."

"Fair enough," Voldemort nodded, "but I am still irritated, because you are still his."

"I am most assuredly yours." Bellatrix showed him her dormant Dark Mark, and when she brushed her fingers over it, he hissed a little, and she whispered, "Master."

His throat bobbed, and she knew what he'd come for. She walked up to him and began unbuttoning his pyjama shirt, and he did not protest one bit. He stayed still as she pushed it off of him, as it fluttered to the floor like a leaf. He helped her as she shoved down his pyjama trousers and underwear, and she murmured against the skin of his chest,

"In every way that really matters, Master, I am yours."

"Bella." He petted at her braided hair a little as he kicked his pyjama trousers away, and Bellatrix whispered,

"I need my wand."

"Lubrico." Voldemort brushed his fingers over his half-hard cock, and Bellatrix smirked at how he could do magic wandlessly even when intoxicated. He smelled strongly of liquor, and yet he could do magic without a wand like it was nothing. She stared up at him and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, feeling him firm up under her touch, and she began to stroke. She used her left hand to caress his chest, to dance her fingers around his shoulder and arm, and she kissed at his skin as she whispered,

"I am in love with you."

"I know," he said, but she shook her head and insisted,

"It isn't like before, Master; it's different."

"How do you… mmph… how do you know?" he slurred, and she told him,

"I was obsessed with you before. It's different now. I'm in love with you. And I am not in love with him." She made her hand move faster, focusing on his tip, swirling around with pressure, and he suddenly pulled away and whined a little.

"Oh, I'm going to come all over you," he complained, and Bellatrix smiled.

"Good," she whispered, but he shook his head.

"No. I want to come inside of you, not on your nightgown."

She laughed softly then, and he surprised her by approaching her and sliding his fingers between her thighs. His dark eyes flashed as he noted,

"No knickers?"

"More comfortable to sleep without them," she said. "Besides, you never know when your master might come into your suite with his cock ready for you."

"Your words are filthy, and I like it," Voldemort said, and he bent to crush his mouth against Bellatrix's. She gasped against the force of his kiss, against the taste of firewhisky in his mouth, and she moaned as his tongue dragged around her lips. She stroked at his hair, at his scruffy jaw, and then at his shoulder again, and when he pulled away, he whispered,

"I want to make you come."

"I think you probably will," she assured him. Half his mouth curled up, and he turned her until her back was against him. His mouth was beside her ear then, and he mumbled,

"I want to make you come now. Right here. Right now. Summagaudens."

Bellatrix cried out, for he'd hit her with a sudden spell she did not recognise. She threw her head back as he jammed two fingers into her and felt the sudden orgasm he'd inflicted upon her. She'd been wet already, aroused by him, but she had not been ready for this incredibly powerful, unexpected climax. She reached up to hold his head as he grunted against her cheek, and as the climax faded, he whispered again,

"Summagaudens."

"Master!" Bellatrix shrieked the word this time, overwhelmed by the way her body was clenching, the feel of his fingers twisting inside of her, the heat and noise in her ears. She felt so alive that everything tingled and prickled, and she whirled around and was swept into a deep kiss as she instinctively stroked at his cock again. He was so hard now that she could feel his pulse in his shaft, and she moaned loudly up into Voldemort's mouth.

He pushed her down rather roughly then, the two of them tumbling onto the rug, and Bellatrix gasped as he began to arrange her. He yanked her until she was on her hands and knees, and suddenly she understood what he wanted. She had no memory of this position, of being penetrated from behind like this, but she figured she was about to make a memory of it. Had anyone ever taken her like this, she wondered? Perhaps. It didn't matter now.

She tipped her hips up and back and felt him stroke at her sopping entrance, heard him groan softly, and then one word came out of him that made her shiver.

"Mine."

"Yes," she whispered, shutting her eyes and letting her head fall. She nodded and assured him, "Yours."

She gasped then, for she felt his tip pressing against her, and his hands squeezing at the cheeks of her backside, and suddenly he was driving himself into her. She arched her back up as one of his hands squeezed mercilessly at a breast, and his hips began to thrash. He pumped into her like a machine, his bucking motions smooth and quick at first and then growing more erratic and deep. Bellatrix yelped at the feel of his cock banging against her cervix, at the way he was squeezing her, and she turned her head a little to try and look at him. All she could see was that his head was thrown back, that his face was contorted as if he were in pain, and suddenly his motions slowed, then stopped, and he moaned helplessly,

"Bellatrix…"

She could feel wet heat pumping into her then, and his hand went slack around her breast. She circled her hips back against him, feeling him shudder and grunt a bit at that, and he seemed to be softening inside of her. When he slipped out, all she could hear were their breaths coming hard and fast in the quiet sitting room. His come was leaking out of her, she could feel, but she stayed still, for he seemed to be studying the mess he'd made. His fingers were dragging the come around her folds, playing with the seed he'd spilt all over her body, and she liked the feel of that.

"You are mine, Bella," he mumbled, his voice a blur, and she nodded again and assured him,

"I am. In so many ways."

"Tergeo. Scourgify." Voldemort cleaned her up without his wand again, for magic to him was like breathing, like a heartbeat. It was so natural for him to perform powerful magic, Bellatrix thought. Perhaps she was marveling over him. It didn't matter now.

Eventually they staggered naked into the bedroom and found their way beneath the blankets, and Bellatrix, very much on instinct, curled up beside Voldemort. He did not protest. In fact, he seemed to quite like it; he stroked at her braid and kissed at her forehead and whispered a goodnight to her. And when Bellatrix fell back to sleep, she did not dream, for her sleep was so deep and peaceful that she was lost to an inky black bliss.

Author's Note: *Takes cold shower* Hoo, boy. They're in deep. But next up is more news from Narcissa (gasp!) and Stella's wedding, which should be… interesting. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing.