Voldemort breathed in and out a few times as Bellatrix woke beside him. He'd been mildly afraid she wouldn't wake. Perhaps he'd damaged her brain. He'd taken it entirely too far, choking her until she was so unconscious that she wouldn't wake. He'd almost killed her.
But he'd climbed into bed with her, putting her beside him in her bra and knickers and waiting for her to wake up, and when she did, she stared at him like he was some sort of mirage in the desert. He was naked. That must have shocked her, to see his cock lying limply across his thigh, to see his hands behind his head and his armpit hair exposed. That must have shocked her truly, but he didn't care. He just turned his face a little toward her and murmured,
"Go on, then."
"Master?" She seemed frightened, and her voice was very hoarse, and he whispered,
"Touch me."
"Oh." She coughed a little, and as she sat up a bit, it appeared as though swallowing were very painful for her. There were terrible bruises all up and down the sides of her neck. Voldemort sucked in breath through his nose and mumbled,
"I took it too far. Choking you. I… you almost didn't wake. I won't take it that far again."
"It felt good," Bellatrix insisted, but she clutched at her throat, and Voldemort scowled.
"I rather like having you about," he grumbled. "It's not worth… losing you… over a bit of asphyxiation play, you understand. I'll go easier next time."
"As you wish, Master." She nodded, and then she seemed to remember that he'd told her to touch him. She slid her hands over his bare chest, and when he hissed in pleasure, she froze. He shook his head and muttered,
"Keep going."
"Like this?" She sounded so uncertain all of a sudden, and he knew why. He'd jabbed his cock down her throat and come in her mouth. He'd tied her up and blindfolded her and roughly fingered her. He'd spanked her between the legs. He'd choked her. What was this? What was this gentle petting he was asking of her? Even if it was what she'd fantasised about in the dining room, it confused her, he could tell.
"I owe you no explanation," he snarled, and she rushed to reply,
"N-No. Of course not, Master."
"Touch me," he commanded her, "and do it nicely."
He lay back then and just let her massage him a bit. Her fingers and palms dragged along his biceps, along his forearms. She dug the heels of her hands into his chest, and she slid her hands all round his stomach and his hips. He started to go hard, and he knew she was watching it happen, watching the way his cock swelled up and grew tumescent. It aroused him, knowing she was staring, knowing she was observing him get erect because of how she was touching him. He grew harder than ever until he twitched and groaned a little, and then he finally seized Bellatrix's hands in his and opened his eyes.
"Is that what you wanted?" he whispered. Her lips fell open, and she looked so drowsy he thought she might fall asleep again. "Downstairs you wanted to touch me. You wanted to caress me. Is that what you wanted?"
"Yes." She blinked slowly and nodded. "Yes, Master."
"Bellatrix." He touched at her lower abdomen and asked softly, "You're protected?"
"I am." She nodded vigorously. "I don't want… I can't have a child right now."
"No. You can't." He pulled his hand away and started to rub at her thigh, deciding he liked to touch her, too, and he mumbled, "I… would like…"
He cleared his throat roughly then, thinking he did not sound at all in control, and he roughened up his voice before he demanded,
"Touch me some more."
"Yes, Master."
She squeezed and caressed him again, all over his shoulders and chest and stomach. All over his biceps, his wrists, his fingers. Soon he needed to kiss her. Wanted. No. Needed. He couldn't decide. It didn't matter.
"Kiss me." He barked the order in the sharpest voice he could manage, but it came out too softly, and when Bellatrix lowered her mouth to his, she was trembling against his mouth in a way that felt too good. He held her face in his hands, thinking he shouldn't do that. He should not drag his thumbs under her eyes like this, nor roll with her until he was atop her.
But he did. And he kept kissing her all the while, pulling at her knickers as she shoved them down. She kicked them away, and she helped him as she wriggled out of her bra. He should be rough with her breast, he thought. He should squeeze until she screamed. He should bend and bite her nipple until she bled, until she cried out.
Instead he cupped the soft tissue and bent and kissed it, and he brought his lips up in a line, up to her neck. He should devour her here, he thought. Make her writhe in agony. Make her try to wrench his head away. But instead he licked at the flesh beneath her ear and heard her moan, and he liked it. He liked the sound. He was so hard he could barely take it anymore, and he gently - gently, for Merlin's sake! - pushed her knees open and thrust into her.
Fluid. Everything was fluid. She was wet. She was ready. His motions were smooth. Nothing was jerky. Breath was easy. Everything was like ocean waves, moving smooth and steady and… why did this feel so good? Easy sex had never felt like this. Voldemort moved his face up and stared down at Bellatrix, who bravely took his cheeks in her hands and stared at him with half-lidded eyes that kept fluttering shut every now and then.
"Is this what it feels like with him?" Voldemort demanded. "With Rodolphus, when you're lying on your back like a doll, is this what it feels like?"
"What? No!" She was so incredulous that she forgot to be obedient, forgot to be deferent. Her cheeks immediately pinked, and she shook her head as she stammered, "I mean… I meant to say, Master that it's… no, it's nothing like… like this."
"Why not?" he snapped, his hips still ebbing and flowing smoothly into her. She studied him, confused, as though the answer were very, very obvious, and she finally whispered,
"Because I want you, My Lord."
"Oh." He felt her tuck her knees up higher, but he knew she wouldn't come like this. It was too simple for a girl like Bellatrix; she wouldn't come like this. He needed her to come. He rolled again with her until he was spooning her from behind, and he began to enter her with shallow little thrusts that felt so good he thought he'd lose himself in just a moment. He hurried to reach round Bellatrix's body and fiddle with her clit, playing with her, pawing at her, and after a few minutes, she threw her head back and gasped.
He caught her up in a kiss, and as her tongue tangled with his, he felt a subtle climax take her over - nothing dramatic, but it was there. He could feel it in her mind. He could feel her clenching a little around his fingers. And her mouth stilled for a moment on his. It did him in, feeling her come like that, and he kissed her through his own, far more showy detonation. He burrowed his fingers into her hair and grunted into her mouth as he pumped come into her, and then he clutched at a breast and held her fast against him.
Why did this feel so good?
There was no blood this time, no choking, no near-death experiences. There was no taunting. No humiliation. There was no violence, not this time. So why did it feel so damned good?
Because I want you, My Lord.
"Bella." Suddenly he didn't want to send her home to go lie in bed with Rodolphus Lestrange, and for that reason he knew he needed to do exactly that.
He made her get dressed, and he told her that if Rodolphus asked about her bruises, she could explain exactly where they'd come from. She belonged to him, and he'd make no secret out of his possession of her. He didn't kiss her goodnight; he let her show herself out whilst he cleaned up in the bathroom.
But as he stood in a blazing hot shower, staring at the black tiles, he slapped at the wet wall in frustration and thought he wanted Bellatrix Lestrange just a little too badly. It had felt too good to be naked with her. It had felt too good to lie atop her, to kiss her carefully while they came. That had felt too good.
Next time, he thought, he would show her pain.
Author's Note: Again, thanks for your patience with this story and a massive thank you for any and all feedback.