Obsession

Chapter 20

"Bella."

She blinked her eyes open and started to push herself up to sit, but Voldemort immediately pushed her shoulders back down. His mouth was on hers before Bellatrix could even gasp in surprise. She felt him crawl up atop her, felt the weight of him settle over her, and she moaned a little. Finally, he pulled away enough to say,

"I had to go to Bournemouth to... clean up a little mess. Sorry, it's late."

"A mess?" Bellatrix pushed his greying hair away from where it had slipped down onto his brows. "What sort of mess, Master?"

He looked rather amused with himself all of a sudden. "Sariah Jenkins lives in Bournemouth."

"Sariah... Eugenia Jenkins' sister?' Bellatrix blinked through the darkness, and Voldemort nodded.

"Yes. The witch had decided it was wise to give an interview to the Prophet supporting her sister. The Minister is being unjustly criticized, Sariah said, especially in light of the fact that Lord Voldemort is a particularly evil man."

Bellatrix smirked. "So, did you show her just exactly how evil you can be, My Lord?"

"Mmm-hmm." He bent to put his lips to Bellatrix's neck. She knew then that he'd killed Sariah Jenkins, and for some reason, the idea sent a shock of want straight between her thighs. She let out a heavy breath as his mouth moved more urgently against her neck. She massaged his scalp with her fingernails and arched her back a little until her body pressed against him.

He started to pull his lips down, over her collarbone and along the swell of her breast. He latched his mouth onto her through the thin material of her nightgown, and she gasped when he nibbled rather roughly at her nipple. His hands worked to pull the blankets down, to hike up her nightgown, and then he shoved his hand between her legs. Bellatrix giggled a little at the wide-eyed look he gave her as he whispered,

"No knickers. Naughty little creature."

"I was rather hoping to give you easy access, My Lord," Bellatrix smiled, and he looked quite pleased with her as he said,

"Good, because I do require... access."

Suddenly he was shoving her legs around, bending her knees and arranging himself between her thighs, and Bellatrix found herself squirming and asking in confusion,

"Wh-What are you doing?"

It almost seemed as though he meant to put his face there, between her legs. He looked up at her and raised his eyebrows.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Bella?"

"I... I didn't realise people actually... I thought that was just a myth." Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot with embarrassment. Rodolphus had never, ever done anything like this to her. She squirmed again, and Voldemort let out a low rumble of a laugh that sent a shiver up her spine.

"I assure you there is nothing mythical about what I'm about to do to you." He dragged his thin fingertips up the insides of her thighs and tipped his head. "Divine? Perhaps. Transcendental? I hope so. But mythical? Imaginary? Oh, no."

Before Bellatrix could answer him, he'd dipped his head as if diving underwater. He vanished between her thighs, his hands gliding up her skin and holding fast to her hips. Bellatrix cried out the moment his lips made contact with her womanhood. At first, he just dragged his bottom lip around, caressing and exploring the outside of her entrance. Then she felt something heavy and wet and firm - the drag of his tongue. Bottom to top, then a little suckle on her nub. He repeated that a few times, and then he stopped and went back to the agonisingly gently kiss of his lips.

"Mmph... no!" Bellatrix snarled her fingers in his hair and drove her head back against the pillow. She growled in frustration as his laughter vibrated onto her flesh. He went back to using his tongue then, but this time he added the variation of an occasional dip inside of her, a hook and a harder suck here and there. Soon enough he'd settled on a steady, constant rhythm of a flat, firm lick punctuated by attention to her clit. It was so much. Too much. Just right.

"Master." Bellatrix could only whisper the word. She knew she was pulling at his hair, that she was being too rough with him there, but she couldn't help it. His fingers cinched on her hips, and Bellatrix found herself groaning as her stomach flopped and her veins went hot. Her ears began to ring, and she couldn't wrench her eyes open. Suddenly she heard herself begging him, "Don't stop. Don't stop. Please just keep... just... don't stop..."

He did as she requested. A solid, long lick and then a rather insistent pull of her clit between his lips. He just kept going, kept doing the exact same motion over and over, and Bellatrix felt everything snap like a violin string wound too tightly.

She keened out wordlessly, bucking her hips so hard against his face that he let out a muffled groan halfway between protest and satisfaction. She could feel herself clamping hard, her walls cinching erratically against the push of his tongue and lips. His hands tightened so hard on her hips that she whimpered for mercy. She had no time to recover from her climax before Voldemort had emerged from between her legs and pressed the tip of his cock to her entrance.

"Yes," Bellatrix whispered desperately. "Yes. Take me, claim me, fill me, fuck me..."

"Bellatrix." Her name came like a purr from his lips, slick and pearlescent from her fluids. He drove himself into her so viciously then that Bellatrix shrieked, squeezing as hard as she could on his forearms. She writhed beneath him, her eyes fluttering shut as he invaded her. Thick, so very thick... she could hardly believe how full she felt, the way he stretched and pushed at her in every conceivable way.

"Harder," she heard herself whisper, for he was scarcely moving his hips at all. Suddenly his wet lips were on her cheek, kissing her there as he quickened his hips and deepened his thrusts. She couldn't take it; she couldn't bear the enormity of him, and yet she murmured again, "Harder, My Lord."

"Oh, you good girl." He kept his lips on her cheek and started to properly rut her, his hips snapping back and forth in machine-like movements that abruptly filled and emptied Bellatrix. She burrowed her fingers in his hair and whimpered helplessly, her body rocking against the pillows and dragging on the sheets. She pulled her knees closer to her chest and felt her master go tight and hard above her and inside of her.

She was going to marry him, she realised as his come filled her, as he groaned and twitched and panted. This terrible Dark wizard, this great leader, this genius of unfathomable power... she was going to marry him. She would be his forever. Her eyes went to the ring on her left hand, the one he'd crafted himself and put upon her.

A few minutes later, he'd Scoured and Siphoned until they were both sufficiently clean, and then he lay on his back and urged Bellatrix to curl up beside him.

"Bella," he whispered after a long while, "Tonight I extracted a great deal of information about Eugenia Jenkins from her sister's mind. The intelligence will be invaluable. Legilimens."

He'd given her no warning at all, and she knew why. Albus Dumbledore wouldn't count down for her before charging into her mind. If the Minister of Magic could have her sister interrogated and killed, then Lord Voldemort's wife could easily face the same fate. It was imperative that her mind be impenetrable.

Before he could pluck even the slightest glimmer of a memory or idea from her head, Bellatrix erased the world she knew. She put her head into the tiny dark room she'd invented. She stared at the flickering candle floating in the corner. They were somewhere very deep underground, somewhere unreachable, somewhere that couldn't be found. Her mind was gone; it could not be searched. She felt Voldemort wrench himself from her consciousness, and when she turned her face to look up at him, he nodded and said very seriously,

"Good girl, Bellatrix. Get some sleep."