A Random Bellatrix Fic
Paddynmoon requested some Bella femmeslash. Here's what I came up with (it's not much good, but here it is anyway...)
Title: Blood Lust
Author: me, obviously.
Pairing: Bellatrix/Rita
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: violence, explicit sex, angst, a lil' bit of sub/dom and maybe a bit H/C...maybe?
Disclaimer: JKR's, I'm just mucking about.
Summarry: Bella gets caught.
Timeline: 1969/1970 i.e. Bella and Rita's seventh year at Hogwarts, according to the Lexicon.
Author's Notes: this fic assumes the existence of a friendship and sexual relationship between Bellatrix and Rita Skeeter.
Words: 1842
Comments: yes please. I'm really, really unsure about this one. It's my first go at writing Bella, so let me know what you think.
“What are you doing, Bella?” Rita Skeeter asked confusedly as she rounded the corner of what she thought was an empty corridor. Before her, a small boy struggled in mid-air, his legs flailing pathetically. His face consumed by terror. Looking down, Rita noticed the puddle of urine pooling below his legs.
Bellatrix Black craned her neck suddenly as Rita addressed her. Bella held her wand steady as the boy whimpered.
“Teaching this filthy Mudblood a lesson,” Bella spat.
“Put him down, Bella,” Rita implored, careful to eliminate the tone of shock and fear from her voice. As she spoke, the boy sobbed silently, the collar of his shirt soaked with sweat and tears.
“Why? Filthy Mudblood, sullying the name of wizard…” Bella turned away from Rita as she spoke, flicking her wand dangerously – torturously – in front of the boy’s terrified eyes.
“Just put him down, Bella – before I go and tell the Head of House.”
Bella pivoted to face Rita. She lowered her wand, letting the boy fall to the floor. His limbs thudded sickeningly against the stone. Moaning, he scrambled to his feet and away down the corridor while Bella’s attention was diverted.
“You wouldn’t,” Bella asserted as she stepped towards Rita. Rita remained silent as Bella searched her face for any sign that Rita might betray her friend and fellow Slytherin.
“I would urge you to hold your tongue, Rita,” Bella iterated, her usually attractive face transformed into an ugly scowl.
“And why should I, Bella?” Rita replied, far more confidently than she actually felt, “Tell me that, hmm?”
“Well, Rita,” Bella spat viciously, “If you don’t, I will hold it for you.”
“Hold it for me?” Rita scoffed, confident the danger, if there had actually been any in the first place, had passed.
Bella lowered her dark eyes, so heavily hooded that the lashes almost appeared to disappear completely when viewed at that peculiar angle. Rita stood, hands placed on her hips, waiting. For what, she was not exactly sure.
As Rita watched Bella, she saw her mouth move. Ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, the plump, pink cushioning of Bella’s lips pressed against one another, forming the words.
Casting the spell, Rita realised too late. Opening her mouth to gasp, or perhaps to counter-attack, Rita found that she was unable to speak. A wisp of what appeared to be rope had emanated from the tip of Bella’ wand and was now wrapped tightly – painfully – around the muscle of Rita’s tongue.
Rita gagged as she tried to speak. Unable to communicate in the only way she knew how, Rita choked on the unspoken words as they caught in her throat.
What are you doing? Rita tried to call out, but it was, she realised, little more than an exercise in futility.
As the horrified expression settled on Rita’s face, yet more ropes sprung forth from Bella’s wand, the bindings tightening around Rita’s hands and feet and sending her sprawling painfully to the stone floor. Rita’s tongue throbbed, the ropes so tight that they had begun to pierce the tender skin.
“What do you say, Rita?” Bella asked smugly, folding her arms across her chest. Rita tried to speak. Bella began to tap her foot in a show of impatience.
“I’m still waiting for an answer,” Bella said mockingly as Rita continued to writhe and gag on the floor.
“Relashio,” Bella finally uttered, flicking her wand and releasing Rita’s tongue from its confinement.
“I won’t, I won’t say anything, I promise!” Rita gasped, apprehending the bitter taste of blood as her tongue rolled around her desperate words.
“That’s what I thought,” Bella said as she turned on her heel and began to walk away.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” she suddenly whispered to herself. Bella lifted her wand up over her head and, pointing it in the direction of the struggling, crying Rita, whispered the incantation, “Relashio,” once more.
As the bindings unfurled from Rita’s limbs and dissipated into the night air, Bellatrix Black walked calmly on, her friend confined to the prison of their agreement.
*****
Rita lay stiffly in her bed, gently massaging the welts on her wrists. Wincing, she bit her lip. Her tongue burned. She could still taste the blood.
How could she? Rita thought.
How could Bella do this to me? The question hung, unanswered, in the air above Rita’s tear-streaked face. The snores, and deep, slumberous breathing of her fellow Slytherins reverberated off of the dormitory walls, enveloping Rita in what she now knew to be a blanket of false comfort.
The dormitory door opened a fraction, admitting a sliver of light into the darkness of the room. Rita heard footfalls: bare heels and toes padding quietly across the floor. She felt the slight gust of air as the curtains of the next bed over were pulled back harshly. Fingertips untucked and turned sheets and bedclothes in the night. Rita held her breath. The springs of the mattress whined under Bella’s weight as she slipped her long, lean legs between the sheets. Rita exhaled. Turning onto her side, the muscles of her back and shoulders softened. Sleep took hold of Rita’s consciousness, the tension of the evening’s events fading into the night.
*****
Rita stirred. She mumbled, her lips pressing sporadically against the bedclothes that she clutched tightly around her broad face.
“Bella,” she whispered as the familiar fingers of Bellatrix Black brushed her tight golden curls from her placid face. Bella’s breath hot against her own neck, Rita suddenly opened her eyes. She sat up hurriedly, pushing Bella’s hands away.
“Bella!” Rita hissed, her eyes wide in the dark, “Get away from me!”
Bella, however, did not do as Rita asked. Bella reached for Rita’s arms, for her wrists. Rita’s eyes began to well with tears as Bella’s slender fingers grasped her tender wrists.
“What are you doing? I said I wouldn’t tell, I won’t Bella, I swear…” Rita rambled desperately, trying to free her hands from Bella’s grip.
“I know,” Bella spat, “I know.” She pulled Rita to her, Rita’s elbows jerking and jarring with the sudden movement.
Rita’s bottom lip began to quiver. Saliva dripped down over her slightly turned lip. She stared, silent but for her hurried breathing, at Bella.
“I know you won’t tell, Rita,” Bella said through gritted teeth, “I…I shouldn’t have done that, what I did before.”
“Wha…” Rita began before she was interrupted.
“I shouldn’t have done it, OK? I’m…sorry,” Bella conceded, digging her thumbnails into Rita’s wrists even as she uttered her apology.
Rita’s limbs slackened with relief. Bella loosened her grip, allowing Rita to slump, exhausted against the bed head.
“My tongue still hurts, you know,” Rita whispered, unable to conceal the hurt in her voice.
Bella fought the urge to roll her eyes at Rita’s self-pitying words. “I know. I said I was sorry,” Bella replied sharply, “What else can I do?”
Rita lowered her head, directing her visual attention to the trim of her blankets.
“Nothing, I guess,” Rita said, her voice so quiet that the sound waves barely reached Bella’s ears, “Nothing.”
Bella turned her face away from Rita’s melancholy gaze. She wanted to smack her, to tell her to stop complaining; to tell her that she was lucky all that she escaped with was a sore tongue. But Bella dared not take such a risk. Not yet, at least.
“Rita,” Bella whispered as she cupped Rita’s chin in her hand.
“Look at me,” she gently implored her classmate. Rita slowly inclined her head upwards.
“Show me your tongue,” Bella asked, gently pressing a thumb to Rita’s lips as she spoke, “Show me,” she repeated, parting Rita’s lips with her fingers.
Rita opened her mouth, extending her tongue. Her eyelids fluttered as Bella’s dark and rather handsome face approached her own. Mouth open, Bella’s tongue ventured forth, the tip lightly gracing the sensitive skin of Rita’s trembling tongue.
Rita swallowed, or tried to as best she could with her mouth agape, as Bella licked the underside of Rita’s damaged organ. Bella slowly increased the pressure of her own tongue’s movements, massaging and sucking on Rita’s tongue until their faces met in a kiss. The faint taste of blood that still hovered over Rita’s lips and tongue consumed Bella as she pulled Rita’s body hard up against her own.
Mid-kiss, Rita gasped suddenly: Bella had taken the tip of Rita’s tongue in between her front teeth and pulled gently on the skin. As Rita made to extricate herself from Bella’s grip, Bella released her hold of Rita’s tongue. Unable to suppress her delight in the fear she had invoked in Rita, Bella grinned, her teeth flashing brightly in the dark of the dormitory.
“Lie down,” Bella commanded in what could only be described as a forceful whisper. Rita complied, inching down the bed until she was lying prostrate on the mattress. Rita’s curls spilled and bunched on the pillow. Bella lifted a hand to Rita’s face, brushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes. Bella’s hand lingered momentarily before she ran her warm, flat palm down Rita’s neck.
Bella increased the pressure of her hand, squeezing Rita’s throat slightly as she approached the collarbone. Bella sensed Rita’s body tighten under her touch; and she sensed the relief as her hand released its firm grip on Rita’s throat.
Rita’s breathing hastened as Bella’s hand traced the contours of her upper body: her nipples hardened as Bella pinched the small fleshy mounds between her thumb and forefinger. Bella’s hand continued to grasp and grab at Rita’s body, her fingers drawn ever downwards.
Rita shifted her pelvis anxiously as Bella’s fingers traced over the curvature of her hipbones. The walls of her cunt contracted involuntarily as Bella’s hand passed over the surface of Rita’s soft pubic mound. Bella’s fingertips grazed the lips of Rita’s vagina, the honey-coloured hair slightly matted: the scent of soap mingling with that of Rita’s arousal. Rita groaned in pathetic protestation as Bella’s hand hovered cruelly close to her aching cunt.
“Bella,” Rita moaned, pushing her hips upwards, desperately searching for Bella’s dexterous fingers.
“Is there something you want, Rita?” Bella asked, her voice the personification of innocence, and her eyes cold.
“Bella,” Rita continued to plead. Bella stared, unmoved, by her friend’s obvious desire.
“Is this what you want?” Bella asked as she penetrated Rita’s cunt suddenly with her fingers.
Rita breathed sharply as Bella thrust her fingers in and out.
“Is this what you want?” Bella hissed. Rita’s cunt squeezed Bella’s fingers gratefully as Rita bucked against Bella’s now sopping wet hand.
“Yes,” Rita groaned, “Yes.”
Bella began to massage Rita’s engorged clit. Rita’s head lolled from side to side on her pillow as she climaxed, panting.
Bella extricated her hand, her fingers sticky. She leaned in towards Rita, her mouth millimetres from Rita’s ear as she spoke:
“And we won’t tell anyone, will we Rita?”
Rita could feel the heat of Bella’s breath on her skin as she stated the terms of their agreement.
“No,” Rita whispered, resignedly:
“No.”
“No.”
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