FIC: Addicted to Circumstance for krystal_moon
Title: Addicted to Circumstance
Recipient: krystal_moon
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Bellatrix/Remus
Warnings: heavy dub-con bordering on non-con, violence/torture breathplay, bondage, dominance play, mindfuck, biting, some adultery on the side
Word Count: 3,918
Summary: Bella captures the wolf easily enough.
A/N: Dear krystal_moon, I had so much fun writing this. Thank you so much for your excellent prompts; I needed to let out the dark side to play. I hope you'll enjoy reading. Inspired by Dido's "Who Makes You Feel". Many thanks to the amazing S for her beta work; without her, I'd be lost.
Who makes you feel the way that I make you feel?
Who loves you and knows you the way I do?
Who touches you and holds you quite like I do?
Who makes you feel like I make you feel?
The werewolf is captivating.
Bella watches him. She hadn't noticed him before the news reached her that Andromeda's bastard daughter intended to marry him, but since then he is all she can think of. Her husband has been out of the equation for too long; Bella seeks the excitement, the danger, the challenge he can't give her anymore, and once her eyes fall on the werewolf she can't think of anything but him. He is perfect.
The werewolf moves with grace, determination, strength. His entire race does. He is different from the other animals she knows, though - Greyback is bloodthirsty without finesse, and so are the other wolves from his pack. They reek and they howl and there's nothing there to catch Bella's attention. This wolf, however, is something else - too controlled, too well-spoken, too complacent in human form to be anything but deceiving himself. He may deny it himself, but Bella thinks "caged" practically oozes from his every look, his every move, his every word.
She doesn't think it would be unbecoming for him to ooze something else: the red that is fitting of a predator. Bella may be a predator herself and the werewolf her prey, but before the week is out the roles will be turned. Just as they ought to be.
*~*~*
She captures him easily enough.
The wolf isn't careful. Bella grew up at Grimmauld Place, and she is keeping tabs on the house. She knows where it's located even though she cannot see it. It's been her home, after all.
Late one night the werewolf Apparates to the front door. He comes out not too long after, agitated and angry. Bella sucks in a breath when his eyes pass her over. She is Concealed; he cannot see her, still his eyes raise goosebumps on her arms. It's the danger of being discovered that has her on edge.
Her sister's bastard doesn't deserve him. From this one look she has stolen from him Bella instinctively knows that Nymphadora cannot satisfy his needs. That she won't take this anger he must be burying deep inside to turn it into something satisfying, the way he needs it.
Bella will though. Just as she ought.
*~*~*
When he is caught and imprisoned, he thrashes against the bars of his cell in Bella's small establishment so beautifully that Bella's breath hitches. "Let me out," he growls. His eyes flash, and the pure fury visible there sends a shiver down her spine. He rattles the bars again, his muscles straining against the confinement of his ripped shirt and trousers, his robes long since lost. Bella bites back the groan fighting in her throat. "Let me out!"
Bella watches the wolf with detached eyes and a small smile playing around her lips. Can't let him see her true feelings yet; can't let him penetrate the depth of her arousal. He may not be Slytherin enough to twist this knowledge to his advantage, but Bella is Slytherin enough to never leave the reigns to anyone but herself.
They are the rules, and he will learn to obey them. Just as he ought.
*~*~*
"What do you want?"
Bella walks into the room with her wand drawn, and instantly the werewolf is on his feet with his nostrils blown wide in suspicion and distrust. He is much more rational and much less afraid than anyone else would be - partly heritage of the man's intellectualism, partly heritage of the animal the man is sharing a body with. Bella admires his self-control, but she knows that the wolf is like a dark place inside, with its own wants and needs. From the way the man is behaving the wolf lets him believe he is in control when in fact it's the wolf who is pulling the strings.
Bella is determined to erase the man in favour of the animal. She wants the wolf and she won't lie about that.
"I want you," Bella tells him in a playful tone, her eyelashes fluttering.
He doesn't flinch, doesn't give any indication whether he believes her statement to be true or false. "Why?"
She takes a moment to step forward, almost so far that her nose brushes his through the bars. "You fascinate me," she breathes, her tongue snaking out of her mouth to lick at the steel separating them.
"Do I?" He watches her steadily, and maybe there's a hint of fear in the depth of the man's eyes, but with the wolf's blown pupils staring back at her the human is difficult to identify.
She smirks at him. The wolf still doesn't draw back; simply stands his ground with a calm look at her. "Come here," Bella croons, her finger beckoning him forward. "Come let's play."
His answer is predictable. "No." The shiver she can see running down his spine, however, betrays him. He is tempted. Bella allows herself a good look at her prey, runs her eyes over his body. His clothes may be filth-stained and torn, but that only means she can see more of how he's built underneath. There are scars visible on every square-inch Bella can see, covered by body hair whose amount would be ridiculous on any other man. With him, though, it testifies to his identity. His scars, on the other hand, speak of self-hatred and the denial of his own nature. He tries to tamp the beast within down; but once a month it breaks free, whatever the man does to prevent it. The scars speak of a history of pain.
Bella licks her lips. Pain is good. Pain makes you see who you are. Pain is your friend.
Maybe the wolf knows that already.
Slowly Bella bares her teeth, her clit throbbing as desire accumulates. The wolf growls a little; the man though seems unaware of his own reaction. Bella wouldn't have heard it herself if she weren't so focused on him, and since he is focused on her...
Well. Let's just say everything is progressing the way it ought to be.
*~*~*
She lets him hunger. She gives him water, but she knows already that as well-fed as he appears, the human will reign the wolf in when it comes to satisfying his hunger. He won't touch her.
She needs him desperate, though. Desperate for the warmth of blood running down his throat as he bites into flesh. Desperate enough not to care what it is he's sinking his teeth into. Desperate enough to let go.
In short, she needs him desperate enough to grovel at her feet when she demands of him what she wants, and everything is the way it ought to be.
*~*~*
It takes a week to break him to the point where he pleads with her.
"Please. I have a pregnant wife. She needs me." There is unmistakeable guilt in his voice, which Bella finds rather interesting. She raises her eyebrows.
"I have heard tale that this girl can take care of herself."
"Please."
It's not the man's eyes that watch her, it's the wolf's. Suddenly Bella knows this is exactly where she wanted him, the point where he's asking her and the man is weak enough to let the wolf take control. Maybe it's not the point of no return yet, but they are close.
The end game has begun.
"Please," he says again, his hard eyes in stark contrast to his words. This one look he throws at her has her aroused in an instant. The decision is made. Her wand is out and she has him bound to the wall in the fraction of a second.
The wolf recognises the lust in her eyes. He may be in a position of weakness, but he's hungry. He bares his teeth, his eyes flash violently and a possessive growl meets her ears.
Bella licks her teeth. She is the prey that offers itself freely and the wolf will take her.
Just the way it ought to be.
*~*~*
His arms are raised over his head, his legs spread, the back of his head plastered against stone. Bella thinks the wolf looks good this way, dominated and controlled, but not broken. He acknowledges her position though, doesn't try to strain against the metal holding him in place, just watches her with those intense, dark eyes of his, which should be disconcerting - but she is Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Death Eater and Azkaban survivor. She does not scare easily: rather she finds the show he is putting on to be what she wants. No one could say she was ordinary.
Bella thinks she made a very good decision in taking him, showing him what he really is. The Dark Lord would surely approve too; for corrupting a member of the Order can never be a bad thing.
Bella lets herself into the cell, her hips swaying as she approaches him with a mirroring look of hunger in her own eyes. The wolf follows her every movement. She can see resentment lingering in his eyes - traces of the man that retreated to the back - but he licks his lips despite himself. Bella can't help herself; she has to lean in and see for herself what werewolf tastes like. Her tongue comes out to play, licks at his bottom lip until he opens his mouth. Her eyes are steadfast on his as her lips claim his in a bruising kiss, no fight for dominance but no struggle against submission either. It's like they meet on equal ground, and as much as Bella adores playing with unwilling victims, it's this kind of mindfuckery that has her the hottest, wettest, most eager to finally get going.
Still she will have to wait. They're not there just yet.
His tongue is tangled with hers, their kiss deep and dark and delicious, but Bella needs more. She draws back, not far but enough so that his eyes flicker down to her lips, swollen and red from the kiss. Then she bites down on her bottom lip. Hard.
As blood trickles into her mouth and she sucks at her lip, she can hear the hitch in the wolf's breathing, the way his eyes go even darker and he swallows. Then she pulls away completely, giggling. "Hungry?" she asks sweetly, her eyelashes fluttering at him. Before he can answer she turns around and walks over to the table, proceeding to lay out all that she brought with her. Food - raw pork, raw meat, raw anything you could think of. Water. Wine. Payment for services rendered.
Toys.
Bella loves toys. She has brought a puppet with her, small and soft and squishy, and the small knives belonging to it. The puppet will bleed tonight, and so will the wolf. "Sweet Marian," Bella croons at the puppet, plucking at the stuffing trying to escape its confines. "Poor thing. No Robin Hood in sight to take care of you." Bella is almost sorry for the puppet and the way she's staring back at her, eyes huge and scared under her woollen hair.
The werewolf thrashes behind her, and Bella can almost hear the man rising over the wolf. She spins around, the puppet clutched tightly to her chest. "You don't agree?"
"No," the werewolf spits back. There is defiance in his eyes once again.
Bella doesn't like the look. "Well then," she says, her voice hard with steel. "Let me show you." She takes one of the small knives. She caresses the puppet's front from head to toe with the blade, her eyes locked with the man's, then, with a quick motion of her wrist, she stabs the knife deep into the puppet's leg.
The wolf pushes to the front and strains against the steel, howling in pain as a deep cut opens in the muscle of his thigh. Thick blood pours out of the wound and is running down his shin and ankle, pooling at his feet. Bella watches the trail of the blood with satisfaction. Got you, she thinks with a smirk and a lick of her lips, then waves the wand and seals the wound closed again. The wolf growls at her as his skin grows closed. Bella smirks back at him, then turns back to the table and lies the puppet back down.
Next in line are the nipple clamps, but Bella isn't sure whether she wants to use them tonight. The collar would be much more fun, she thinks, a better way of controlling the man and bringing forth the wolf. For it's the wolf she wants, the aggression, the passion, the need the wolf represents. The man is weak, undesirable in contrast, and has nothing that could appeal to her. Bella wonders briefly how he could appeal to her sister's daughter, but then she whirls around to discover the answer and instead finds the wolf watching her with a snarl. Instantly all thought beyond the here and now is forgotten.
Her own need matches the wolf's easily enough.
*~*~*
He keeps watching her as she advances with her raised wand. He keeps watching her when she slides against him, presses her hips against his. There's nothing there yet that could press back, but Bella knows how to coax him to hardness. It's all a matter of the right method.
She flips her wand with a whispered incantation and admires the skin that is laid free for her to appreciate. She runs a finger along one of the many scars gracing his body, a reminder of the battle the werewolf fights each month and sometimes in between. Like now.
Bella kneels in front of him, no gesture of submission on her side but one of tenderness that seems out of place. Her tongue itches to trace the deep scar that runs from his hipbone to the thatch of hair surrounding his cock. "This must have hurt," she whispers, her voice gentle and compassionate, but not out of the reason everyone else would have spoken that way. Bella rather wishes she'd have such scars to lick every day, forever. Wishes she could take a knife and rip the scars open again, seal them back together: a sign of ownership, a reminder of who makes him feel this way.
No matter. Now is not the time. Now is the time to lick the scar, nuzzle the hair, continue on to the limp cock. She gives him a sure lick down his length; feels his harsh intake of breath as the wolf's body reacts. His cock lengthens, thickens, is hard in her mouth in no time at all. Bella allows herself a small smile, then sucks the head into her mouth. The wolf's hips thrust forward, and Bella brings her hands up to grip his hips.
There will be bruises come morning.
The wolf is growling above her. Bella feels the tell-tale rush of answering arousal deep in her gut, all too aware of the pre-come he is leaking and that she swallows with a greedy passion that would have surprised anyone but herself. Sucking cock is about power, and Bella is as powerful as she's about to get: her prey bound to the wall and helplessly at her mercy.
With a plop! Bella sits back on her heels, her eyes slowly travelling up the body laid out for her. Hard eyes look back at her, a sheen of sweat covering the wolf's brow. "Look at you," Bella whispers, enchanted. She gets to her feet to admire the wolf, to fully appreciate him and let herself look her fill. His skin glows in the light of the fire, the scars' tales on his body more pronounced now that his whole body is tense with arousal. His cock, full and thick and standing at attention, makes her mouth water. His defined muscles speak of stamina - he has the lithe, trained body of the predator, and even though the roles are reversed tonight Bella can't wait to test him.
But it's something else that draws her eyes even more - his throat. The way his whole body shakes with every powerful inhalation and exhalation, the way the veins in his neck are prominent from straining against the metal holding him in place there, the way his throat bobs when he swallows.
Maybe he needs to be taught a lesson. Bella is fully inclined to play teacher.
"Tonight's lesson," she begins, her voice high and a little bit prissy, if she may say so herself, "will involve me, you, and that piece of steel at your throat. Are you prepared?" She smiles sweetly in his direction, but from how his eyes widen comically she isn't sure her good intentions came across.
"No," he chokes, and Bella knows the man is back in control, just like she foresaw he would be.
She drops the act. "Yes," she says. She is in his personal space within a moment, her lips whispering an incantation that her mother taught her.
The metal tightens around his throat, pressing into the skin, pressing so insistently, so dangerously forward that his air supply is cut off. He gasps, struggles to inhale oxygen as his body strains against the bonds once more. His face reddens, sweat runs down his temples. Bella admires his beauty for another second, then she leans forward to lick the salt from his skin. When she is at his ear she whispers, "Let loose," before biting his earlobe. Another whispered incantation and the metal stretches. His body goes limp against hers. He still gasps for air, but this little fight has left the man all but strengthless. Bella smiles, satisfied; she knows that not much needs to be done to draw forth the wolf fully and entirely.
She purrs low in her throat, her finger crawling down his cheek and under his chin, lifting his face up to her. What looks back at her is finally, finally, one hundred percent pure wolf. "Up," she rasps, her voice gone hoarse from the heat coursing through her veins. He straightens.
The wolf's breathing is different from the man's, deep lungfuls of air sucked in, his nostrils wide and quaking from the different scents that reach his nose. Bella wonders what she smells like - arousal, judging from the hunger that is reflected back at her through dark eyes and a tongue licking at lips, teeth bared at her and the faint grumbling escaping the wolf's throat. Bella swallows, growls back.
She likes to think of herself as a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Her hand sneaks down to his cock, still hard, still pulsing. She plays with him for a moment, stroking up and down lightly, her thumb swiping over the head. Pre-come is weeping from the tip already. Bella brings her finger up to her mouth and licks, all the while keeping eye contact with him as her tongue laps up his taste. She can't say what it is he tastes like (Azkaban has left everything with a grey-ish tinge), but she can say that it is inherently male. When her tongue wraps around her finger the wolf lurches forward, straining to get to her; but Bella draws back. "Tsk tsk," she says, cocking an eyebrow. Her finger, glistening with spit, wriggles at him. Her other hand has taken hold of the base of his cock, applying pressure until the wolf squirms uneasily. "Good boy," she purrs. Then she finally gives him what they both want: she leans forward, takes his mouth in a bruising kiss. And because she likes danger, needs danger, she lets all the restraints holding him in place fall.
She is spun around immediately, the feral grin on the wolf's face exciting her beyond what she can bear. Her back is pressed against the stone wall; he lifts her legs up with his hands and she embraces his hips with them, her robes hitching up in the process. Bella groans. This is what she needed. He is strength and violent need, and Bella finally submits. The wolf plays with her like she is his prey, like she intended him to from the very beginning; bites at her neck hard enough to break skin, his hands rough on her thighs and her arse. Bella can feel the muscles in his back flex as he holds her up easily, as if she were a doll. There isn't much else for her to do except admire her handiwork. She is in his hands now and at his mercy, and nothing will change that. She arches against him as well as she can, searching friction, and she soon finds it. He pushes aside her knickers, one finger brushing against her, then his cock nudges at her entrance. When he slides into her Bella thinks she might as well have been ripped apart. He is huge and everything but careful. His thrusts are powerful and have no finesse.
Bella revels in it. She is riding the edge of pain and pleasure. He fucks her so hard with his entire body she thinks her ribs will break against the stone behind her, air becomes narrow, she's bleeding and helpless and has let loose a dangerous animal.
When the first wave of her orgasm hits there is nothing to warn her, no sign, just the feeling of being well and truly fucked. The next moment fire runs through her, burning her inside and out, and Bella screams because it hurts, it hurtshurtshurts and her skin is going to burn and she is not going to survive this, and still the wolf keeps pounding into her. Bella holds on to him, her fingernails digging into his back as she is being reborn.
Then the wolf's back tenses and he howls into her neck, his teeth buried in her muscle as he comes, deep inside her.
They slump to the ground in a heap of limbs, quite ungracefully, Bella thinks, but her muscles are still weak and her stomach is still spasming. She tries to catch her breath but fails. Time goes by, slowly, until she feels more of her own master again. She raises her head and looks down at the wolf, who seems to have passed out. Typical, she thinks, her nostrils flaring in disgust. She stands up and rearranges herself. She looks fucked out, white stains all over her robes, but she doesn't have a husband to speak of any longer, so there's no danger in being discovered like this.
She writes up a quick note - Ask yourself, could anyone else do this for you? - and leaves it on his chest. Then she marches out of the room and to the only Apparition spot in the house, turns on the spot and leaves to go back to her beloved Lord.
Bella has only two needs: serving and being served. It's only natural two different men should fulfil those needs, isn't it?
*~*~*
Bella keeps watching the wolf. She sees his pregnant wife, bearing but another worthless bastard; sees his joy, sees him take off the night his bastard is born to celebrate with friends.
She waits.
For his birthday she sends her boy toy a note. Your present is waiting. Short and to the point. She can imagine how he is going to react: he will blush or maybe gape at the piece of paper. Andromeda's bastard daughter will come rushing over, asking what is wrong. He will crumble the note in his hands. Nothing, he will say, his cock already stirring in his pants.
Bella smirks. She can't wait to have her plaything back.
Recipient: krystal_moon
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Bellatrix/Remus
Warnings: heavy dub-con bordering on non-con, violence/torture breathplay, bondage, dominance play, mindfuck, biting, some adultery on the side
Word Count: 3,918
Summary: Bella captures the wolf easily enough.
A/N: Dear krystal_moon, I had so much fun writing this. Thank you so much for your excellent prompts; I needed to let out the dark side to play. I hope you'll enjoy reading. Inspired by Dido's "Who Makes You Feel". Many thanks to the amazing S for her beta work; without her, I'd be lost.
Who makes you feel the way that I make you feel?
Who loves you and knows you the way I do?
Who touches you and holds you quite like I do?
Who makes you feel like I make you feel?
The werewolf is captivating.
Bella watches him. She hadn't noticed him before the news reached her that Andromeda's bastard daughter intended to marry him, but since then he is all she can think of. Her husband has been out of the equation for too long; Bella seeks the excitement, the danger, the challenge he can't give her anymore, and once her eyes fall on the werewolf she can't think of anything but him. He is perfect.
The werewolf moves with grace, determination, strength. His entire race does. He is different from the other animals she knows, though - Greyback is bloodthirsty without finesse, and so are the other wolves from his pack. They reek and they howl and there's nothing there to catch Bella's attention. This wolf, however, is something else - too controlled, too well-spoken, too complacent in human form to be anything but deceiving himself. He may deny it himself, but Bella thinks "caged" practically oozes from his every look, his every move, his every word.
She doesn't think it would be unbecoming for him to ooze something else: the red that is fitting of a predator. Bella may be a predator herself and the werewolf her prey, but before the week is out the roles will be turned. Just as they ought to be.
*~*~*
She captures him easily enough.
The wolf isn't careful. Bella grew up at Grimmauld Place, and she is keeping tabs on the house. She knows where it's located even though she cannot see it. It's been her home, after all.
Late one night the werewolf Apparates to the front door. He comes out not too long after, agitated and angry. Bella sucks in a breath when his eyes pass her over. She is Concealed; he cannot see her, still his eyes raise goosebumps on her arms. It's the danger of being discovered that has her on edge.
Her sister's bastard doesn't deserve him. From this one look she has stolen from him Bella instinctively knows that Nymphadora cannot satisfy his needs. That she won't take this anger he must be burying deep inside to turn it into something satisfying, the way he needs it.
Bella will though. Just as she ought.
*~*~*
When he is caught and imprisoned, he thrashes against the bars of his cell in Bella's small establishment so beautifully that Bella's breath hitches. "Let me out," he growls. His eyes flash, and the pure fury visible there sends a shiver down her spine. He rattles the bars again, his muscles straining against the confinement of his ripped shirt and trousers, his robes long since lost. Bella bites back the groan fighting in her throat. "Let me out!"
Bella watches the wolf with detached eyes and a small smile playing around her lips. Can't let him see her true feelings yet; can't let him penetrate the depth of her arousal. He may not be Slytherin enough to twist this knowledge to his advantage, but Bella is Slytherin enough to never leave the reigns to anyone but herself.
They are the rules, and he will learn to obey them. Just as he ought.
*~*~*
"What do you want?"
Bella walks into the room with her wand drawn, and instantly the werewolf is on his feet with his nostrils blown wide in suspicion and distrust. He is much more rational and much less afraid than anyone else would be - partly heritage of the man's intellectualism, partly heritage of the animal the man is sharing a body with. Bella admires his self-control, but she knows that the wolf is like a dark place inside, with its own wants and needs. From the way the man is behaving the wolf lets him believe he is in control when in fact it's the wolf who is pulling the strings.
Bella is determined to erase the man in favour of the animal. She wants the wolf and she won't lie about that.
"I want you," Bella tells him in a playful tone, her eyelashes fluttering.
He doesn't flinch, doesn't give any indication whether he believes her statement to be true or false. "Why?"
She takes a moment to step forward, almost so far that her nose brushes his through the bars. "You fascinate me," she breathes, her tongue snaking out of her mouth to lick at the steel separating them.
"Do I?" He watches her steadily, and maybe there's a hint of fear in the depth of the man's eyes, but with the wolf's blown pupils staring back at her the human is difficult to identify.
She smirks at him. The wolf still doesn't draw back; simply stands his ground with a calm look at her. "Come here," Bella croons, her finger beckoning him forward. "Come let's play."
His answer is predictable. "No." The shiver she can see running down his spine, however, betrays him. He is tempted. Bella allows herself a good look at her prey, runs her eyes over his body. His clothes may be filth-stained and torn, but that only means she can see more of how he's built underneath. There are scars visible on every square-inch Bella can see, covered by body hair whose amount would be ridiculous on any other man. With him, though, it testifies to his identity. His scars, on the other hand, speak of self-hatred and the denial of his own nature. He tries to tamp the beast within down; but once a month it breaks free, whatever the man does to prevent it. The scars speak of a history of pain.
Bella licks her lips. Pain is good. Pain makes you see who you are. Pain is your friend.
Maybe the wolf knows that already.
Slowly Bella bares her teeth, her clit throbbing as desire accumulates. The wolf growls a little; the man though seems unaware of his own reaction. Bella wouldn't have heard it herself if she weren't so focused on him, and since he is focused on her...
Well. Let's just say everything is progressing the way it ought to be.
*~*~*
She lets him hunger. She gives him water, but she knows already that as well-fed as he appears, the human will reign the wolf in when it comes to satisfying his hunger. He won't touch her.
She needs him desperate, though. Desperate for the warmth of blood running down his throat as he bites into flesh. Desperate enough not to care what it is he's sinking his teeth into. Desperate enough to let go.
In short, she needs him desperate enough to grovel at her feet when she demands of him what she wants, and everything is the way it ought to be.
*~*~*
It takes a week to break him to the point where he pleads with her.
"Please. I have a pregnant wife. She needs me." There is unmistakeable guilt in his voice, which Bella finds rather interesting. She raises her eyebrows.
"I have heard tale that this girl can take care of herself."
"Please."
It's not the man's eyes that watch her, it's the wolf's. Suddenly Bella knows this is exactly where she wanted him, the point where he's asking her and the man is weak enough to let the wolf take control. Maybe it's not the point of no return yet, but they are close.
The end game has begun.
"Please," he says again, his hard eyes in stark contrast to his words. This one look he throws at her has her aroused in an instant. The decision is made. Her wand is out and she has him bound to the wall in the fraction of a second.
The wolf recognises the lust in her eyes. He may be in a position of weakness, but he's hungry. He bares his teeth, his eyes flash violently and a possessive growl meets her ears.
Bella licks her teeth. She is the prey that offers itself freely and the wolf will take her.
Just the way it ought to be.
*~*~*
His arms are raised over his head, his legs spread, the back of his head plastered against stone. Bella thinks the wolf looks good this way, dominated and controlled, but not broken. He acknowledges her position though, doesn't try to strain against the metal holding him in place, just watches her with those intense, dark eyes of his, which should be disconcerting - but she is Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Death Eater and Azkaban survivor. She does not scare easily: rather she finds the show he is putting on to be what she wants. No one could say she was ordinary.
Bella thinks she made a very good decision in taking him, showing him what he really is. The Dark Lord would surely approve too; for corrupting a member of the Order can never be a bad thing.
Bella lets herself into the cell, her hips swaying as she approaches him with a mirroring look of hunger in her own eyes. The wolf follows her every movement. She can see resentment lingering in his eyes - traces of the man that retreated to the back - but he licks his lips despite himself. Bella can't help herself; she has to lean in and see for herself what werewolf tastes like. Her tongue comes out to play, licks at his bottom lip until he opens his mouth. Her eyes are steadfast on his as her lips claim his in a bruising kiss, no fight for dominance but no struggle against submission either. It's like they meet on equal ground, and as much as Bella adores playing with unwilling victims, it's this kind of mindfuckery that has her the hottest, wettest, most eager to finally get going.
Still she will have to wait. They're not there just yet.
His tongue is tangled with hers, their kiss deep and dark and delicious, but Bella needs more. She draws back, not far but enough so that his eyes flicker down to her lips, swollen and red from the kiss. Then she bites down on her bottom lip. Hard.
As blood trickles into her mouth and she sucks at her lip, she can hear the hitch in the wolf's breathing, the way his eyes go even darker and he swallows. Then she pulls away completely, giggling. "Hungry?" she asks sweetly, her eyelashes fluttering at him. Before he can answer she turns around and walks over to the table, proceeding to lay out all that she brought with her. Food - raw pork, raw meat, raw anything you could think of. Water. Wine. Payment for services rendered.
Toys.
Bella loves toys. She has brought a puppet with her, small and soft and squishy, and the small knives belonging to it. The puppet will bleed tonight, and so will the wolf. "Sweet Marian," Bella croons at the puppet, plucking at the stuffing trying to escape its confines. "Poor thing. No Robin Hood in sight to take care of you." Bella is almost sorry for the puppet and the way she's staring back at her, eyes huge and scared under her woollen hair.
The werewolf thrashes behind her, and Bella can almost hear the man rising over the wolf. She spins around, the puppet clutched tightly to her chest. "You don't agree?"
"No," the werewolf spits back. There is defiance in his eyes once again.
Bella doesn't like the look. "Well then," she says, her voice hard with steel. "Let me show you." She takes one of the small knives. She caresses the puppet's front from head to toe with the blade, her eyes locked with the man's, then, with a quick motion of her wrist, she stabs the knife deep into the puppet's leg.
The wolf pushes to the front and strains against the steel, howling in pain as a deep cut opens in the muscle of his thigh. Thick blood pours out of the wound and is running down his shin and ankle, pooling at his feet. Bella watches the trail of the blood with satisfaction. Got you, she thinks with a smirk and a lick of her lips, then waves the wand and seals the wound closed again. The wolf growls at her as his skin grows closed. Bella smirks back at him, then turns back to the table and lies the puppet back down.
Next in line are the nipple clamps, but Bella isn't sure whether she wants to use them tonight. The collar would be much more fun, she thinks, a better way of controlling the man and bringing forth the wolf. For it's the wolf she wants, the aggression, the passion, the need the wolf represents. The man is weak, undesirable in contrast, and has nothing that could appeal to her. Bella wonders briefly how he could appeal to her sister's daughter, but then she whirls around to discover the answer and instead finds the wolf watching her with a snarl. Instantly all thought beyond the here and now is forgotten.
Her own need matches the wolf's easily enough.
*~*~*
He keeps watching her as she advances with her raised wand. He keeps watching her when she slides against him, presses her hips against his. There's nothing there yet that could press back, but Bella knows how to coax him to hardness. It's all a matter of the right method.
She flips her wand with a whispered incantation and admires the skin that is laid free for her to appreciate. She runs a finger along one of the many scars gracing his body, a reminder of the battle the werewolf fights each month and sometimes in between. Like now.
Bella kneels in front of him, no gesture of submission on her side but one of tenderness that seems out of place. Her tongue itches to trace the deep scar that runs from his hipbone to the thatch of hair surrounding his cock. "This must have hurt," she whispers, her voice gentle and compassionate, but not out of the reason everyone else would have spoken that way. Bella rather wishes she'd have such scars to lick every day, forever. Wishes she could take a knife and rip the scars open again, seal them back together: a sign of ownership, a reminder of who makes him feel this way.
No matter. Now is not the time. Now is the time to lick the scar, nuzzle the hair, continue on to the limp cock. She gives him a sure lick down his length; feels his harsh intake of breath as the wolf's body reacts. His cock lengthens, thickens, is hard in her mouth in no time at all. Bella allows herself a small smile, then sucks the head into her mouth. The wolf's hips thrust forward, and Bella brings her hands up to grip his hips.
There will be bruises come morning.
The wolf is growling above her. Bella feels the tell-tale rush of answering arousal deep in her gut, all too aware of the pre-come he is leaking and that she swallows with a greedy passion that would have surprised anyone but herself. Sucking cock is about power, and Bella is as powerful as she's about to get: her prey bound to the wall and helplessly at her mercy.
With a plop! Bella sits back on her heels, her eyes slowly travelling up the body laid out for her. Hard eyes look back at her, a sheen of sweat covering the wolf's brow. "Look at you," Bella whispers, enchanted. She gets to her feet to admire the wolf, to fully appreciate him and let herself look her fill. His skin glows in the light of the fire, the scars' tales on his body more pronounced now that his whole body is tense with arousal. His cock, full and thick and standing at attention, makes her mouth water. His defined muscles speak of stamina - he has the lithe, trained body of the predator, and even though the roles are reversed tonight Bella can't wait to test him.
But it's something else that draws her eyes even more - his throat. The way his whole body shakes with every powerful inhalation and exhalation, the way the veins in his neck are prominent from straining against the metal holding him in place there, the way his throat bobs when he swallows.
Maybe he needs to be taught a lesson. Bella is fully inclined to play teacher.
"Tonight's lesson," she begins, her voice high and a little bit prissy, if she may say so herself, "will involve me, you, and that piece of steel at your throat. Are you prepared?" She smiles sweetly in his direction, but from how his eyes widen comically she isn't sure her good intentions came across.
"No," he chokes, and Bella knows the man is back in control, just like she foresaw he would be.
She drops the act. "Yes," she says. She is in his personal space within a moment, her lips whispering an incantation that her mother taught her.
The metal tightens around his throat, pressing into the skin, pressing so insistently, so dangerously forward that his air supply is cut off. He gasps, struggles to inhale oxygen as his body strains against the bonds once more. His face reddens, sweat runs down his temples. Bella admires his beauty for another second, then she leans forward to lick the salt from his skin. When she is at his ear she whispers, "Let loose," before biting his earlobe. Another whispered incantation and the metal stretches. His body goes limp against hers. He still gasps for air, but this little fight has left the man all but strengthless. Bella smiles, satisfied; she knows that not much needs to be done to draw forth the wolf fully and entirely.
She purrs low in her throat, her finger crawling down his cheek and under his chin, lifting his face up to her. What looks back at her is finally, finally, one hundred percent pure wolf. "Up," she rasps, her voice gone hoarse from the heat coursing through her veins. He straightens.
The wolf's breathing is different from the man's, deep lungfuls of air sucked in, his nostrils wide and quaking from the different scents that reach his nose. Bella wonders what she smells like - arousal, judging from the hunger that is reflected back at her through dark eyes and a tongue licking at lips, teeth bared at her and the faint grumbling escaping the wolf's throat. Bella swallows, growls back.
She likes to think of herself as a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Her hand sneaks down to his cock, still hard, still pulsing. She plays with him for a moment, stroking up and down lightly, her thumb swiping over the head. Pre-come is weeping from the tip already. Bella brings her finger up to her mouth and licks, all the while keeping eye contact with him as her tongue laps up his taste. She can't say what it is he tastes like (Azkaban has left everything with a grey-ish tinge), but she can say that it is inherently male. When her tongue wraps around her finger the wolf lurches forward, straining to get to her; but Bella draws back. "Tsk tsk," she says, cocking an eyebrow. Her finger, glistening with spit, wriggles at him. Her other hand has taken hold of the base of his cock, applying pressure until the wolf squirms uneasily. "Good boy," she purrs. Then she finally gives him what they both want: she leans forward, takes his mouth in a bruising kiss. And because she likes danger, needs danger, she lets all the restraints holding him in place fall.
She is spun around immediately, the feral grin on the wolf's face exciting her beyond what she can bear. Her back is pressed against the stone wall; he lifts her legs up with his hands and she embraces his hips with them, her robes hitching up in the process. Bella groans. This is what she needed. He is strength and violent need, and Bella finally submits. The wolf plays with her like she is his prey, like she intended him to from the very beginning; bites at her neck hard enough to break skin, his hands rough on her thighs and her arse. Bella can feel the muscles in his back flex as he holds her up easily, as if she were a doll. There isn't much else for her to do except admire her handiwork. She is in his hands now and at his mercy, and nothing will change that. She arches against him as well as she can, searching friction, and she soon finds it. He pushes aside her knickers, one finger brushing against her, then his cock nudges at her entrance. When he slides into her Bella thinks she might as well have been ripped apart. He is huge and everything but careful. His thrusts are powerful and have no finesse.
Bella revels in it. She is riding the edge of pain and pleasure. He fucks her so hard with his entire body she thinks her ribs will break against the stone behind her, air becomes narrow, she's bleeding and helpless and has let loose a dangerous animal.
When the first wave of her orgasm hits there is nothing to warn her, no sign, just the feeling of being well and truly fucked. The next moment fire runs through her, burning her inside and out, and Bella screams because it hurts, it hurtshurtshurts and her skin is going to burn and she is not going to survive this, and still the wolf keeps pounding into her. Bella holds on to him, her fingernails digging into his back as she is being reborn.
Then the wolf's back tenses and he howls into her neck, his teeth buried in her muscle as he comes, deep inside her.
They slump to the ground in a heap of limbs, quite ungracefully, Bella thinks, but her muscles are still weak and her stomach is still spasming. She tries to catch her breath but fails. Time goes by, slowly, until she feels more of her own master again. She raises her head and looks down at the wolf, who seems to have passed out. Typical, she thinks, her nostrils flaring in disgust. She stands up and rearranges herself. She looks fucked out, white stains all over her robes, but she doesn't have a husband to speak of any longer, so there's no danger in being discovered like this.
She writes up a quick note - Ask yourself, could anyone else do this for you? - and leaves it on his chest. Then she marches out of the room and to the only Apparition spot in the house, turns on the spot and leaves to go back to her beloved Lord.
Bella has only two needs: serving and being served. It's only natural two different men should fulfil those needs, isn't it?
*~*~*
Bella keeps watching the wolf. She sees his pregnant wife, bearing but another worthless bastard; sees his joy, sees him take off the night his bastard is born to celebrate with friends.
She waits.
For his birthday she sends her boy toy a note. Your present is waiting. Short and to the point. She can imagine how he is going to react: he will blush or maybe gape at the piece of paper. Andromeda's bastard daughter will come rushing over, asking what is wrong. He will crumble the note in his hands. Nothing, he will say, his cock already stirring in his pants.
Bella smirks. She can't wait to have her plaything back.