|Crossing Over (Antonin/Bellatrix)
||[Jul. 5th, 2014|05:43 pm]
Title: Crossing Over
Pairing(s): Antonin Dolohov/Bellatrix Black
Word Count: 1,772
Warning(s): explicit sex
Summary: The night before her wedding, Bellatrix decides to lose her virginity to the man she loves.
Bellatrix can hear her heart beating, deep inside her head, reverberating against her skull, her eardrums and her eyes. As she moves through the darkness with only her wand for light, her footsteps sound terribly loud to her, even though she had cast a silencing spell around herself. She can feel the tightness of anticipation in her stomach, growing slowly with every step. The wine from dinner has long since left her and the dull throbbing at her temples has to be exhaustion.
Three quiet knocks against the heavy oak door. Headquarters is deserted at this hour. The patrol had let her through without a word. The hinges make a small squeaking sound as the door swings open. She smiles, throwing off the cocoon of spells she had wrapped herself in after getting past the patrol, just in case someone they know was still lingering.
She pushes past him into the warm room, lit by rows of candles and a low-burning fire. The nights are cold this year in May, she muses. She strides across to the desk and surveys the reports laid out in neat, organized rows. Antonin did not waste time binding himself with responsibilities. How strange, really.
“You’re working late. Tomorrow is the wedding.” She doesn’t have to say it is hers – all of Pureblood society is talking about the Lestrange-Black wedding. Besides, she wouldn’t be here otherwise.
“I know.” He closes the door and spells it locked. “Why are you here?”
She smiles, and drops her cloak. “I don’t want to be married a virgin.”
Antonin looks at her as though she were mad; the bitterness in his eyes makes her sneer. How dare he – as though she had a choice. “Strange thing to say, don’t you think?” His hands on her bare arms make Bella shiver. She bites her lip and tastes the sweet, thick texture of her cherry-red lipstick.
“I’m a good girl for daddy, but Rodolphus can bugger off.”
Antonin laughs, softly, nuzzling against her hair. “You know that I want you.”
Her smile is sharper now, feral. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders, she is sure he can feel it even through his robes. “Then take me.”
He pulls away and she wants to scream at him for stalling. He eyes her, devouring her figure with his eyes – her deep-cut gown, the bit of lace stalking peeking out from under the skirt, her incredibly small waist, made smaller by the corset. Antonin’s hand comes to rest at the nape of her neck. “You’re a virgin. You’ve made it this long, why throw it all away now?”
“I don’t want him to…” take it. She can feel how vulnerable she is, offering herself up like this, completely undressed before his eyes even with all the layers still physically between them. The bubble in her abdomen contracts and her thighs buckle just slightly. Bella tilts forward, her lips coming within an inch of his chin. He lifts her face with one hand so she is looking up at him. “Must I say it?” she asks, hoping he will take pity on her.
Her eyes narrow for a moment, then she gives in. “I love you.” The words tumble out helplessly, float off into the air, burn up in the candlelight. How foolish she is, saying such things. “My father taught me that I have two gifts to give – by virginity and my womb. I always had a few choice words for him on that account, but since I’m being a good girl for daddy this week…” She smiles again, feeling the repressed panic she has felt ever since the engagement rushing out all at once. Her nails dig deeper into Antonin’s shoulders and her smile becomes something mildly contorted. “I want my first time, my first memory to be this.”
Bella traces one hand down Antonin’s chest, finds his growing erection. He flinches away for a moment, then grabs her arms and pushes her back until her back is pressed against the side of a bookcase. Bella continues to smile, even as his expression becomes disapproving. “This is exactly what I want.” She can feel her expression soften, the bubble in her stomach expanding and the tightness in her chest fighting to be freed. “It’s all I have to give you, Tony.”
“You do realize if we are found out…”
“Yes,” she nods. “But you’ve locked the door. No one is here this late.”
“…You will be disgraced, your family will be disgraced. Your marriage will likely not happen, your prospects—“
She kisses him, roughly, biting his lip in the process. “Do you think I’m an idiot? I know all this better than you.”
“The Lord will be displeased. That won’t bode well for either of us. Your fiancé might chose to take a different route too…”
For a moment, she does not know what he means. Then, as it dawns on her, Bella finds herself laughing – a frantic, half-hysterical laugh. “Roddy’s too much of a coward to duel.”
“There is still your father, your cousin—“
“You have another cousin.”
“…Regulus is just a child! They’d never let him.”
“Perhaps not. But knowing you family…they will what they must.”
“Who are you afraid of, Antonin?” she spits out, suddenly angry. Her desire begins to melt, the bubble of anticipation deflating, bitterness filling its space. “My elderly father or my baby cousin?”
“Both. I’m afraid of harming them. …None of this is good, Bella.”
The steady ticking of the clock somewhere to her left steadies Bellatrix against the wave of frustration which is fighting to destroy him and her and everything around them. She had been prepared for anything and everything, but not rejection, not from him. “You’re a coward.”
“Be quiet, you don’t know what you say.”
“I do. You’re a coward and a weak-willed mummy’s boy and I hate you. I hate you! You were the only friend I had in this and you’ve…you’ve—“
He slams her hard against the bookcase behind her, his mouth covering hers. She can no longer make a sound as Antonin kisses her and his hand goes back up to the nape of her neck, squeezing just slightly, just enough for her to feel the danger of that pressure. His other hand yanks up her skirt and slides up her thigh until he finds her smallclothes. Bellatrix can feel her own wetness, knows he can feel it too through the silky fabric. She tries to moan – in pleasure and relief – but he bites her lip sharply enough to draw blood. “Is this what you want?” Antonin hisses, withdrawing just barely. “Here, like this, like some—“
“I want you.”
For just a moment, she can see the conflict in his eyes, the moment his expression softens, and then his lips are on hers again, on her neck and her shoulders. He reaches for his wand and in a moment her dress is on the floor, then her petticoats. Antonin shrugs off his robes and picks her up. Her back is pressed against the bookcase and she wraps her legs around his waist, throwing her head back, one hand on his shoulder for balance, the other fisted in his hair.
Bella expects it to hurt, but not as much as it actually does. She bites down on her own lip and can instantly taste the iron sting of blood against her tongue. The pain stabs through her. She moans pitifully, suddenly still. Her anguish must be palpable because Antonin looks up from where he had been kissing her bare shoulders and his eyes are wide with trepidation. “Bella?”
“Wait. Give me a moment,” she pants, fighting against the instinct that is telling her to avoid the pain.
“Merlin, bloody hell. I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry…this was a mistake…” He makes a movement as though to pull out of her, she can feel it, but she latches onto his shoulders, her arms firmly encircling his neck.
“No, no, no. Just give me a moment.” The pain begins to subside gradually.
“What can I do?” Antonin looks lost. It is obvious that if he has ever had sex it was never with a virgin.
“Kiss me.” She pulls him into her and kisses him, long and deep, forgetting about the throbbing between her legs, fighting to keep them wrapped around his waist to help him keep her up. She slides one hand down and finds her favorite sensitive spot, running her fingers across it, allowing the instant jolts of pleasure to calm her and distract her from the discomfort. “Alright,” she finally whispers when she is ready to resume what they’d started.
Antonin tries to go slow and be gentle, she can tell. She tries to help the thing along by not allowing herself to sink fully down when he thrust up. It takes some of the worse pain out but at first it’s still a struggle. Sometimes, he hits a sensitive spot and a flash of pleasure rushes through her, she squeezes her thighs against the impulse and instantly regrets doing so.
The world swims in a strange whirlpool of desire and pain and the occasional bright flash of pleasure. Bellatrix feels like she’s floating – the entire experience is surreal, like being in a dream or in delirium. At moments, the smallest details in the room stand out and at other moments, she squeezes her eyes tightly in order to not see and just feel.
She fakes her orgasm in the end, taking pity on Antonin, who is obviously trying to wait for her. They sink onto the floor and she settles in his lap, her head on his shoulder. He strokes her hair and waits for her to say something. “I don’t regret it,” she says finally, quietly.
“I’m glad. It…gets better, you know.” She can feel the cautious smile in his voice.
“I’m sure it does.” Her body aches but she’s not unhappy. At least she will know what to expect tomorrow at the bedding and maybe it will hurt a little less. “I need to go.”
Antonin doesn’t stop her and Bellatrix knows better than to expect him to. She leaves the way she came, glowing wand in hand, down the silent corridor, past the patrol… Some part of her is disappointed. Not because he didn’t make her come but because she had expected that doing this would exorcise something out of her, her desire for him maybe. She had hoped that losing her virginity to Antonin would somehow make marrying Rodolphus easier.
It hadn’t changed a thing.