It's so wrong, but it feels so damn right. His hands, his lips, his manhood buried inside me. I moan and whimper like a bitch in heat as he claims me, yes, I let him take me like a submissive little whore and I've come to realise he's my balance.
Cissy is my light in the darkness, Felix is my feather on the scales of justice. I weigh my heart against him and the balance is prefect, the scales alined perfectly.
My dark Prince, my perfect equal, a man with skills to match my own on all accounts. Sometimes I think he lets me win our duels, sometimes I think if he tried just that little bit harder, he'd win. I watch him try half heartedly to dissarm me, he doesn't want to hurt me, so I try harder, trying to rile him, to get him worked up, to get angry. These duels may one day save his life.
He gets worked up, but not in the way I was thinking, sweat runs down our bodies and he tosses his wand to the side, crossing to me in a few short strides and slamming me up against the wall with little or no effort on his part. I'm a dancer and a duelist, I practise my art everyday and I'm strong, I have to be. But I'm no match for his strengh as my wrists are pinned above me head and I hear myself mewling for him, my wand clatters to the floor as he roughly pulls my skirts up around my hips, lifting me off my feet. My wrists are free and I drop my arms around his neck, my nails clawing at his shoulders as he fumbles to free his erection, We're both panting like animals and I make a noise worthy of such as he pushes his hard manhood inside me.
It's so wrong, but it feels so good. He pumps with animalistic grunts into my neck. I thrust my hips forwards with moans like a muggle whore. So nice. So wrong. So good. So pefectly twisted. We move as one, my nails break the skin on his back, his teeth break the skin on my shoulder. Such pure blood, twisted and wrapped in silken scarves. The blackness within is hidden as we dance our dirty dance of sin. So nice.
We stare at each other, both out bodies sleek with sweat and other more intimate fluids, I feel tiny trickles of blood running down my back, soaking into the fabric of my dress where my back scrapped the wall over and over. He kisses me tenderly, whispering to me that I'm perfect, I'm beautiful, I'm his Goddess. I run my hands gently over his face, his strong hands still holding me up, my legs still around his waist, he's still inside me. Neither one of us want to break the contact of this moment. I tell him he's my staillion, my only man, my dark prince.
We're Blacks, to us this is normal. To you we're sick and twisted. My sister is my wife, my son is my lover. But as wrong as this is to you, to me, this is my heaven. We share a love so strong that no one could ever break us apart. Not even the walls of Azkaban could come between us.
I purr to my sister, my wife, my princess. "Come, Cissy. Come wallow in the dark with me my pet."
I purr to my son, my lover, my prince. "Come, Felix. Come wallow in the dark with me my staillion."
And we do, we wallow in the darkness, we don't want to be saved.