Author's Notes: Written for MadHatterBellatrix10's Bellamort Fic Competition on the HPFC forum and mmom on Livejournal.
This is a birthday present for my dear friend Charlotte, xx-His-Most-Loyal-Servant-xx. Happy birthday, and I hope you like it, darling!
I don't want anybody else... when I think about you, I touch myself...
Bellatrix lay in her bed, her face buried in the pillows, and thought about the Dark Lord.
All through that night's meeting, while she sat upright and attentive, she could have sworn that his eyes were darting towards her. Every time she caught him looking – even though she suspected that he was merely glancing idly past her, it sent a thrill through her body, and then her stomach would clench with frustration, because she would never have him.
The meeting seemed to last for hours upon hours – not least because Bellatrix could scarcely think for the pressure growing in between her legs – and when they were finally dismissed, and the men went off to some pub to drink themselves into stupors, the Dark Lord called Bellatrix to his side.
"My Lord," she murmured, dropping into a curtsey and hoping that he would not notice the flush that painted her cheeks.
He moved close to her, and her breath quickened with every step he took in her direction.
"Bellatrix…" His voice was soft and velvety, almost gentle, and a thrill went through Bellatrix's body when he whispered her name. Oh, the things she would love to hear him whispering in that voice…
His fingers brushed across her shoulder, up her throat and to her cheek, and his lips were mere inches from her ear.
"You are a fine example of a Death Eater, Bellatrix…"
"I- I thank you, my Lord," she whispered breathlessly. "I aim to- to please you–"
He silenced her by pressing one finger against her lips, and she felt her knees go weak. She clutched the edge of the table for support, gazing at him with a look that she hoped did not seem as desperate as she felt.
"A fine example of a Death Eater," he told her in that quiet, sensual hiss. "And an even finer one of a woman…"
If his proximity and his touch were not enough to make her fall apart, those words were. She all but swooned, and barely managed to keep herself upright and dignified.
"I am flattered, my Lord," was the only reply that she could make, and when she said it, he stepped away and bid her go.
She did, tears of want prickling in her eyes, still feeling the places on her body where he had touched her burn and tingle.
And now Bellatrix was alone in bed – Rodolphus still out with the other Death Eaters – and she could think about nothing but what his hands would feel like if they touched the rest of her…
She curled in the blankets, running her own palms lightly over her body, and imagined that her master's fingers were caressing her. The very thought sent shivers down her spine.
In her mind, she was able to conjure a perfect image of him in her imagination – tall and imposing, and in her mind's eye, his red-black eyes glittered with lust.
Lust for me.
Bellatrix squirmed slightly in the sheets, her breath going low and ragged. She wanted him so desperately – oh, what she would not give for just one night in his bed… one night in his arms…
Her hand moved between her legs, rubbing herself gently. Her back arched and she bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, and all she could think of was the Dark Lord – on top of her, his arms around her, his cold lips brushing against hers…
When she was finished, she curled into a ball and buried her face in the pillows, in tears because it was not real.