Obsession
A Voldemort/Bellatrix smut bucket.
'Unrequited love hurts. Walk it off.'
The room was silent, save for Bellatrix's shuttering breaths. She was still suspended to the cold stone, her bare feet dangling gingerly above the heap of worn and warm clothing.
Her Master stood before her, fully clothed. His slit-like scarlet eyes stroking the delicate curves of her nude form- studying her. She felt a chill erupt deep within her tight chest as his serpentine tongue flicked the chap of his smirking lips.
"Azkaban wasn't as unkind to you as I would have… suspected, Bella." The vowel of her name rolling off his vocal words in a husked rumble. A flush of pink rose in her hollowed cheeks. Her school-girl grin doing very little to muffle the giggle that left her.
Without hesitation, or another word his long bone-white fingers clasped the front of her throat firmly. This action lifting the enchantment, and he skated her around him with ease- only to toss her carelessly about the broad tabletop.
"What will Rodolphus say?" His tone dripping with mild humor.
"H-he doesn't have to know, my lord." Her argument was thick with hunger. She avoided his eyes, but lazily scurried to an upright position after her unceremonious landing.
"You would betray your husband- for me?" Sharp teeth peeked out of his ever increasing sneer.
"I… would do anything for you, Master." Her last word was labored. Her eyes now steady, and unblinking on this lithe man before her. He held such power for someone so thin. Even in his younger days, she had never seen him as anything less than a god. Her notice of his nearly windily fragile body made no difference, however.
"Would you show me this same loyalty?" His question was cold. Bellatrix felt her skin tighten from the chill.
"I-" Her voice caught, "Am your most loyal follower. Your most devout servant. Allow me to prove it to you. Please." Her face vanished behind a thick mess of inky tress as she knelt on the table in a deep bow.
"We shall see what we can do with such a…" He pushed her back, her limbs splaying her bare body out before him. His eyes widened with delight- under the mess of tattered robes, and moth eaten cloth she was still eclipsing beautiful.
"-Charming disappointment."
Her legs were long and shapely- rolling up to wide hips that whittled into a pinch of waist. Her skin was unblemished- and impossibly soft, he guessed merely from sight. She was so wrongfully pale, almost matte- a thin sheen of sweat across her endowed chest dispelling the theory that she could have been plastic.
He drank in the willing albeit scandalized woman before him. A thick thatch of hair protected her flower- this caused a swell in the pale man's loins. He wanted nothing more than to disrupt this. To destroy the flawless pattern of perfect curve and cowering innocence.
There was one strap of cloth that adorned her body- a garter, sheathing an elegantly engraved silver dagger. He had seen her toying with it before. He knew torture was her past-time, rarely was she in it for the quick kill.
There was a smattering of dried blood on the leather wrapped handle, the careful swirls of her fingers imprinted on the animal hide. Or was it… human?
"Hmmm… Do you want me, Bella? Or would you like to prove this… loyalty you speak of?" His words came out in a lazy drawl- the point of his sculpted fingers tempting her faculties as he swept further up her legs. His thumbs stopping to massage the dipped crease where thigh met hip.
Bellatrix swallowed a hearty moan.
His frigid hands clashed harshly with the fevered zeal dispelling from each of her pores. He snaked his arctic touch up her hips, thumbs brushing briskly through her hair, and gliding over the sharp curve up hips- across a lush abdomen and faintly cupping the bottom of her breasts. Her back arched up at this, her thick lashes once again fluttering closed.
Bellatrix let out the piercing shriek- that quickly turned into a cackle. Her eyes snapping open and falling upon the grotesque scene before her, a white-hot pain in her stomach. Voldemort had taken her pleasure as an opportunity to unsheathe her blade, and plunge it deep within her torso. A puddle of impervious crimson stained her sisters table- warming the trails of tender nerve-stroke that the dark lord had left in his wake.
He was pushing the liquid, decorating her body with the unyielding color. She giggled, her eyes catching the intense concentration knitted where his eyebrows used to be.
Voldemort ripped the blade out and covered the wound with his hand. Just as Bellatrix was about to question his motives a storm of blinding white pleasure detonated inside her. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. She felt a sharp pain as she rose up into his touch, an ache awoke that she could very nearly reach until-
R-RIP-PP-
She could hear her skin splitting. This time the sharp edge merely coaxed the flesh of her left hip to separate. A chuckle caught in her throat. A small splatter of blood projected across his shapeless features- this eyes narrowed. He gripped her hip with a strength she had not anticipated and before she could register anything- she was enveloped almost completely in an unending sea of arousal. Wave after wave of pleasure crashing against her swelling sex.
With reckless abandon, her legs opened and she hooked her foot around the small of his back, attempting to pull him closer.
"Now… now…" His laugh was laced with mirth, his eyes shining bright in the dimming candlelight surrounding them. He lent forward and kissed her knee. Then her thigh. His slithering tongue lapped at her moistened peach before she seized with discomfort, the blade of the knife penetrating her harshly. Almost as quickly as the pain had ceased, her body quaked with an unparalleled ecstasy.
Screams of Euphoria shook the walls. The entire Malfoy family was now subjected to the intoxicatingly terrible melody of this woman.
She was thrashing and bucking her hips, the knife still firmly set. Her small hands laced around his own before the Dark lord snapped his fingers and a very long snake wound it's way around her neck and wrists. It's powerful muscles nudging her windpipe when she fought too hard.
"Now now Belle- play nice…" A French lilt to his words as he ripped the knife out of her sex- swinging it wildly, only to halt flush with her heart.
