Entry tags:

2011 fic

Fic: Bellatrix Lestrange in a Gringott's Vault with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder
Title: In Darkness Found
Author: eeyore9990
Character: Bellatrix
Location: Gringotts vault
Prop: Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder
Other Characters: none
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mild blood-play (it's her own and not the menstrual variety)
Word Count: 1,082
Disclaimer: The characters, props, and places mentioned in this fic belong to JK Rowling and associates.
Author's Notes: I cannot thank my beta enough for all her help. This fic would have been entirely unreadable without her superhuman efforts.

A huge amount of love for the mods, r_grayjoy and nehalenia, for their efforts to keep fandom wanking… the pervy way!

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Bellatrix opened her eyes and stared around, absolute darkness pressing on her from all sides. One breath, then two, and she could feel her muscles relax as the burden of freedom left her.

The first shiver of anticipation rippled through her, and she brought her hands to the closure of her robes. Eyes sliding shut, she felt along the row of buttons, pushing them through their holes by touch. The heavy material slipped from her shoulders and made a soft noise as it puddled just behind her bare heels.

Her hair lay in a heavy mass down her back, the perfectly straight strands ending just at the curve of her arse so that the tips brushed against it with every small motion of her head.

She stepped forward and held her hand out, the wall a comforting presence. Turning, she put her back to it and slid down to a sitting position, pleasure shivering through her when the rough wall scraped her skin. In her mind's eye, the far wall was just beyond the reach of her toes; her bed bolted to the adjacent wall to her right and the cell door to her left.

Small, so small and cramped at first, but over time, the tight confines had become something of a comfort.

Bellatrix rolled the back of her head against the wall, her cheek coming to rest against the cool, rough surface. She let out a shuddering breath and could almost see the warmth of it forming brief clouds of condensation in front of her face.

She could hear the Dementors moving outside, the whispering of their cloaks dragging the floor just beyond her cell door, their bony appendages reaching toward her… Her stomach tensed, thighs pressing together as she waited. Her nipples drew tight, a reaction to the bone-chilling cold the Dementors spread before them.

Her mouth opened on a gasp, and for a wild moment she could feel a Dementor right there, in front of her, its horrible, gaping mouth opening over her own. Heart pounding in her chest, she drew on her fear and let it fill her until her blood was pulsing through her body in panicky bursts. She moaned, pressing her legs tighter together and rocking back and forth on the uneven floor. Her fingers covered her nipples in an attempt to protect them from the unearthly cold radiating off the Dementor in front of her, but only served to send jolts of pleasure through her.

Leaning forward, she held her mouth open in invitation even as she worked one hand between her clenched thighs. The firm muscles pressed her fingers tightly together and forced them against the lips of her cunt.

She rolled her hips, and a low, ragged sound rolled up from her chest and out her mouth, its warmth freezing just beyond her lips. Eyes stretching wide in the perfect darkness, she licked the air, trying to taste the Dementor's inhuman apathy. But it was beyond her reach.

Slumping backward, she allowed her legs to fall open. She plucked at a nipple with the filth-encrusted fingers of one hand while grinding the heel of the other firmly against her pubis. Her breath sounded loud in her ears as she rocked into her hand, and her hair tickled the back of her arm.

Releasing her breast, she reached out blindly and grabbed a handful of the rubble the lay piled on the floor. She dragged it across her breasts, down her abdomen, and over her jutting hipbones, allowing it to bite bloody lines into her flesh every inch of the way. As the rubble warmed against her body, she abandoned it, seeking more and more until her belly was piled high with debris.

Her chin dug into her chest as her body lurched at the sensation of her fingers burrowing between her wet lips and glancing over her clitoris before sliding two fingers inside herself. She dragged her feet back toward her arse, bracing them against the ground and her shoulders against the wall. Her hips bucked into the air, and she let the last of the rubble fall from her fingers as she brought that hand to join the other between her legs.

She reached for her clit, rubbing it harder and faster with one hand while stabbing the fingers of the other deep inside, twisting them as she keened loudly into the darkened cell. Blood rushed through her, roaring in her ears and sending a feverish flush to her cheeks. She could feel it building in her, the release she craved, but it lingered just beyond her grasp, frustrating her until she was thrusting her hips and tossing her head, need clawing at her.

And then an icy breath flowed over her thighs. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her hips snapped upward, her hands going still as her inner muscles squeezed down on the fingers buried so deeply inside.

As the last bit of her orgasm pulsed through her, she collapsed back against the ground, the chink of coins filling her ears and bringing a frown to her face. Blinking open her eyes, she peered around her and saw that the unnatural darkness was fading.

As the light filtered in, the walls of her prison cell bled away, expanding and shifting until she could dimly see the outline of her Gringotts vault. Glancing around herself, she snatched up the bag that had contained the black powder and upended it, shrieking in rage when nothing fell free. Panic rose in her, but she pushed it down brutally. There was no place in her life for such weakness.

Bellatrix slowly stood, intentionally sliding against the rough wall just to feel it scrape over her skin one more time. She glanced down at her raw belly, dragging a fingernail—still encrusted with fine grains of powder—over the cuts and abrasions. Bringing the finger to her mouth, she licked it, tasting on it a beguiling mixture of her own release, the blood from her belly, and the black powder that had allowed her one short moment of remembrance.

With a sigh of regret, she pushed away from the wall, dragging her feet through the gold, silver, and bronze debris toward her robes, where they lay in a discarded pile. As she picked them up, she promised herself that she would return—soon—to revel once more in the isolation, the cold, the mind-bending fear of her memories of Azkaban.

The safest home she'd ever known.