Author's Notes: Written for the Welcome Home Ficathon on kolms on LiveJournal, with the prompt:
Bellatrix/Sirius, those who have violent delights have violent ends, cousin.
Bellatrix tormented Sirius.
Since childhood, she had found ways to drive him near to madness. She had known what insults stung, what idle comments made fury rise in his chest, known just the way to look at him to make him sick with anger at her.
That had been agonizing, he would not lie, but it was nothing in comparison to the ways in which she tormented him when he got older.
She could smirk at him so lightly, and that would be enough to make his stomach turn, not with anger, but with lust – she would spread her knees just inches apart and he would be overcome with a desire to take her, take her roughly, have his way with her…
She knew it. She loved it.
She allowed it.
He could take out his frustration upon her, fuck her on every surface of the Manor until she was raw between the legs and he could barely draw breath, and he would be sure that this time, he had worked her into submission, and then her lip would curl into that familiar, disgusting little sneer and he would remember that he couldn't win against her, and then she would pull him close and whisper, "Do it again."
"You're a bitch, Bella," Sirius panted, digging his nails into her shoulders as her powerful legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him close to her.
"You love it," she breathed, eyes sparkling feverishly. "You love it because it makes it possible for you to believe you're doing the right thing when you fuck me like this…"
Bellatrix laughed. She caught his earlobe between her teeth, tugging on it for a moment, then letting go to breathe in his ear, "Those who have violent delights have violent ends… cousin."
"Like Hell," he hissed, and then his lips were on hers again and all thoughts of violent ends were gone from his mind.
Sirius heard stories about his cousin, and though he would tell anyone who shared the rumours with him that they were lies, he didn't believe that for a second. He knew her, knew what she was like when the façade of being the pretty, Pureblood heiress dropped away.
"Bella," he snapped at her when she came in late one night. He had stayed up, waiting by the door long after nightfall, so that he could be the one to greet her.
She looked at him, pushing her long, dark hair back from her face, and he saw a gleam in her eye and a flush on her cheek that did not serve to comfort him.
"Yes, cousin?" she purred. "Has someone been staying up for me? Someone fancies a fuck in a broom closet before bed?"
"Don't bother," he snapped viciously. "You know why I'm waiting for you."
"Of course I do." She reached out to touch him, but he slapped her hand away, though everything in his body was begging her, no, no, have me now.
"This… these Death Eaters–"
"Oh, that." The seductive smirk slid instantly from Bellatrix's face, replaced by a cold, hard glare. "Well, that's not your business, is it, Sirius? I'm sure you don't approve, but frankly, I don't care if you don't…" And before Sirius could say anything else, she went on, "No matter what you tell me – no matter what anyone tells me – you can't make me believe that you know what it is to be a Death Eater… how beautiful it is… what you would be asking me to give up." For an instant, she looked utterly captivated. "You don't know what that kind of power is like… what it is to see someone writhing under your curse, what it is to have people bow to you, beg from you–"
"You like that?" Sirius spat. "You get off on people treating you like- like some sort of goddess, do you?"
"Of course," said Bellatrix. She didn't sound the least bit ashamed. "It's rather delightful, seeing them… submit…"
And now it was Sirius's turn to sneer. He stepped forward, glaring straight into her eyes.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you?" he breathed. "Those who have violent delights have violent ends, cousin."