Ficlet: Imprecation (Bellatrix/Sirius, R)
Title: Imprecation
Author: spessartine
Rating: R
Pairing: Bellatrix/Sirius
Wordcount: 440
Disclaimer: God, I always forget these. Not my characters, but mainly my angst.
A/N: written for scythia
1
Velvet gathered tight and heavy across her hips, she snarled at him and pushed his hand between her legs. He dropped his glass and splinters of crystal shot reflected light up between them and onto the underside of her clenched jaw. After a second, he moved his fingers deeper into heat and placed his hand on the wall beside her neck. She tossed her head back; regarded him from under smoke-licked lids.
Oh, she said, oh, I see how it is, cousin.
Her laughter followed him back inside. That was the first time.
She was older, of course: there was that. More than this, though: he hated her.
2
When he put his hand on her neck and felt the fluttering pulse beneath his palm, she only sighed. His mouth against her skin was all teeth; his cheek scoring her with stubble. He pushed his fingers into her mouth, but she let them rest against her tongue; placid, infuriating.
When he pushed her to the floor, she smiled, opened her legs.
The muscles in her thighs trembled against him, though he was not gentle. Afterwards he pressed her cheek against the dirt, but it did not make her quiet. When she had smoothed her skirts and made a show of tidying his shirt - her hands fluttering across his chest - she kissed his jaw, next to his ear, and said, darling, darling Sirius, you know I love you, don’t you? You will always be my favourite.
3
Sometimes, at night, he heard her. He lay on his side, body rigid against the thin, filthy mattress, his eyes screwed shut and breath shuddering out of him from between gritted teeth.
Darling, she’d call. Bella’s here. You’re still my favourite, Sirius. I can hear you, sweetheart. Oh, come to Bella, like you used to. Come to Bella, Sirius.
His hands shook. He sunk his teeth into his thumb, and the saliva and blood that slicked his chin chilled quickly to frost. His breathing; the cold; someone sobbing, thin harsh cries. Her voice - again:
Oh, darling. It will be alright. I can hear you crying, Sirius. I can hear you, sweetheart.
4
And at the end of the day, what’s one escaped convict to another? They are not the same people anymore: they have different faces, different bodies and voices and minds (oh, minds, yes).
Her face, its ruined beauty and reckless hatred, looks more like his own, somehow, now. He means to kill, her, certainly.
He means to kill her. More than this, though: he thinks he loved her, once, but cannot quite remember.
Author: spessartine
Rating: R
Pairing: Bellatrix/Sirius
Wordcount: 440
Disclaimer: God, I always forget these. Not my characters, but mainly my angst.
A/N: written for scythia
1
Velvet gathered tight and heavy across her hips, she snarled at him and pushed his hand between her legs. He dropped his glass and splinters of crystal shot reflected light up between them and onto the underside of her clenched jaw. After a second, he moved his fingers deeper into heat and placed his hand on the wall beside her neck. She tossed her head back; regarded him from under smoke-licked lids.
Oh, she said, oh, I see how it is, cousin.
Her laughter followed him back inside. That was the first time.
She was older, of course: there was that. More than this, though: he hated her.
2
When he put his hand on her neck and felt the fluttering pulse beneath his palm, she only sighed. His mouth against her skin was all teeth; his cheek scoring her with stubble. He pushed his fingers into her mouth, but she let them rest against her tongue; placid, infuriating.
When he pushed her to the floor, she smiled, opened her legs.
The muscles in her thighs trembled against him, though he was not gentle. Afterwards he pressed her cheek against the dirt, but it did not make her quiet. When she had smoothed her skirts and made a show of tidying his shirt - her hands fluttering across his chest - she kissed his jaw, next to his ear, and said, darling, darling Sirius, you know I love you, don’t you? You will always be my favourite.
3
Sometimes, at night, he heard her. He lay on his side, body rigid against the thin, filthy mattress, his eyes screwed shut and breath shuddering out of him from between gritted teeth.
Darling, she’d call. Bella’s here. You’re still my favourite, Sirius. I can hear you, sweetheart. Oh, come to Bella, like you used to. Come to Bella, Sirius.
His hands shook. He sunk his teeth into his thumb, and the saliva and blood that slicked his chin chilled quickly to frost. His breathing; the cold; someone sobbing, thin harsh cries. Her voice - again:
Oh, darling. It will be alright. I can hear you crying, Sirius. I can hear you, sweetheart.
4
And at the end of the day, what’s one escaped convict to another? They are not the same people anymore: they have different faces, different bodies and voices and minds (oh, minds, yes).
Her face, its ruined beauty and reckless hatred, looks more like his own, somehow, now. He means to kill, her, certainly.
He means to kill her. More than this, though: he thinks he loved her, once, but cannot quite remember.