FIC: Decadent Dulosis (Bellatrix/Gabrielle) for sweetcarolanne Title: Decadent Dulosis Recipient:sweetcarolanne Pairing: Bellatrix/Gabrielle Rating: NC-17 Summary: If it was the cruelty and darkness in Voldemort that excited Bellatrix, it was the purity and beauty in Gabrielle that excited her even more. Warnings: femmeslash, consensual D/s, knifeplay/bloodplay, twisted romance. Author's note: Thanks to my beta, J, who will be credited after the reveal. I have never written this pairing before -- nor thought that I would enjoy it quite so much. I hope you like it, sweetcarolanne!
For all that she loved darkness, it was light colours that Bellatrix found the most attractive. Especially when contrasted with darkness.
Pale skin. Soft, pale skin, no less; skin that felt as though it would break if her touch was too harsh. Like porcelain.
"I'm not delicate," Gabrielle said, and she wasn't. Bellatrix knew that. She had seen what the girl could withstand: she'd put Gabrielle through most of the trials herself.
Maybe she had been delicate once, but not any longer. There was a resilience to her now; Bellatrix could see it in her posture when she studied the younger woman. But she couldn't feel it in her skin.
"Are you alright?" whispered Gabrielle. She was looking at Bellatrix with concern, and Bellatrix suddenly realised that she had been sitting for quite a while without saying anything, her finger tracing the length of her lover's forearm.
"Just thinking," Bellatrix said absently, eyes following the path of her finger. She offered no further information, knowing that more questions would be forthcoming.
That made Gabrielle smile. She shifted closer, pressing her shoulder against Bellatrix's. "Thinking what?"
Bellatrix smiled back, but it was a closed smile. Secretive. Not wide and open, like Gabrielle's.
The younger woman recognised it and gave in with a sigh, knowing that she was not going to get her lover to say anything she didn't want to say. She gave Bellatrix a slightly exasperated look, but there was determination in it too. They had an odd sort of balance, testing and pushing boundaries until one of them gave, and it was usually Gabrielle.
"I was thinking," Bellatrix continued in a strong voice, eyes glinting as she met Gabrielle's, "How pretty you'd look with a bit of blood on your skin."
The words hung between them for a moment, like a dare. "My...?" Gabrielle began, trailing off.
"Yes," Bellatrix said simply. She leaned in to kiss Gabrielle, biting down lightly on her lower lip, just enough for it to look red and ever so slightly more swollen when she pulled back. "Yours."
She could feel the hesitation in the blonde's body, and soothed her with a gentler, chaster kiss. "Blood adds power to brews and spells," she whispered softly, a new light entering her eyes: the sort of light she got when she was teaching, especially when Gabrielle surpassed her expectations. "Why shouldn't it add to pleasure, as well?"
"You're obsessed with blood," Gabrielle accused just as quietly. "Everyone's. Not just mine."
That gave Bellatrix pause, but only for a moment. "I spill dirty blood to cleanse the world of it," she said. There was more than a hint of pride in her voice. "Yours is pure and dark. I want to see it." She leaned in, brushing her lips against the skin just beneath Gabrielle's ear. "It won't hurt."
"I'm not afraid," Gabrielle whispered. Bellatrix noticed that her eyes closed briefly as her head tilted away from Bellatrix's mouth, exposing more of her throat.
"No, of course not," Bellatrix purred, one long finger tracing the blonde's elegant jawline. "The question is... do you trust me?"
Gabrielle's eyes opened and her head turned just the slightest bit towards Bellatrix, her expression open and yet unreadable. Her eyes searched Bellatrix's face for clues; Bellatrix gave none save for a slight smile. There was only warmth in her eyes now.
Finally, Gabrielle nodded. It was a small movement, accompanied by a mirrored warmth in her own expression. So many thought her lover insane, so many would think her insane for trusting so easily, but Gabrielle had long stopped caring what those people thought.
"Lie back," Bellatrix ordered gently, gesturing to the bed they were sitting on.
A smile spread across Gabrielle's face, the kind of smile that warmed the heart of any hot-blooded person with even the smallest inclination towards beautiful women. She lay back gracefully, letting one hand brush against Bellatrix's cheek as she raised it to her hair, absently swinging the straight blonde locks over her shoulder.
Bellatrix was not immune to her charm, but she was used to it enough to know when it was being used on her. Her smile grew mischievous and she drew her knife, eyes glinting. She held it by the blade, pressing the tip of the hilt to the underside of Gabrielle's chin. "No need to charm me," she informed her. "It's a dangerous thing you're toying with."
"I know," Gabrielle said, but without remorse; she toyed with it because she liked the light in her lover's eyes when she was entranced. It was one part anger, one part enthralled lust, and one part possessiveness.
It was the possessiveness that Gabrielle did not entirely understand. Lust was the point, really, and she knew full well that a cunning woman like Bellatrix would be a little bit angry at having her emotions manipulated. But the veela charm usually induced a need to impress her -- Bellatrix had never tried that. Of course, she was impressive already.
Now it was Gabrielle's turn to be sharply jolted out of her musings about her lover. Bellatrix's mouth covered hers, gentle but insistent, and Gabrielle surrendered almost instantly.
Bellatrix's teeth grazed Gabrielle's lower lip, eliciting a soft moan from the younger woman. She fell back against the bed, hands lifting to tangle in Bellatrix's dark locks, tugging gently as she clung to her for support. But Bellatrix pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss. Gabrielle felt a small tremor of fear when she saw the knife in Bellatrix's hand, but it never touched her skin: the blade fell, cutting cleanly through her blouse in a straight path over her stomach. The soft material fell to either side with a whisper of rustling fabric, leaving Gabrielle bare.
Pale skin. So much pale skin that Bellatrix was nearly blinded; it was beautiful, but she needed contrast.
Bellatrix had never been one to dwell too long in lightness. She liked darkness too much, but mostly she enjoyed the shades in between: in being right as well as being dark, the twisted morals of which might have driven a lesser person insane. She didn't rant and rave: she loved, and in passion she found sanity.
Then there was red. Not too much: not enough to stop the heart or even weaken the stomach, just enough to be appreciated for its beauty and purity. Just enough to be pleasurable to all the senses.
Gabrielle was staring in wonder, too, but her wonder was childlike and innocent; there was still so much she had to learn. Bellatrix held out the knife, watched her lover's long fingers touch the blade, fingertips turning red too with the pigment of her own blood. Amazement coloured her expression.
"Pure," Bellatrix whispered under her breath, for aside from darkness, it was purity that intrigued her most. Purity of blood, purity of spirit. She had the former, but the latter had escaped her long ago. "Beautiful."
She needed to immerse herself in it. Perhaps, after a while, she and Gabrielle could blend into one and find a median shade; for now they had to settle for the only way two humans could come to such a union.
Her tongue traced the cut the knife had made as her fingers delved into Gabrielle's heated folds. The younger woman's hips canted up, meeting her halfway with a small cry. "Ohhh..."
"Shh," Bellatrix whispered back, though what she really wanted was to hear her moan; it was an order she felt safe giving, when she knew for certain that it would never be obeyed.
True to her expectations, Gabrielle squirmed impatiently on her fingers, enveloping her in warm, slick heat and the pulse of her near-feverish blood pumping through her veins. Bellatrix reveled in it, driving them both on to higher and higher levels of ecstasy with the movement of her wrist. Her mouth covered everything her fingers could not: the broken edges of skin that tasted metallic on her tongue, the hardening flesh of soft pink nipples, and the addictive warmth of her lover's mouth.
Of course, it all had to come to a head, and when it did there was an explosion: a firing of neurons, a flushing of skin, and cries that barely even sounded human. Touch had gone deeper than the sharpest knife ever could, reaching into the very depths of a human soul and laying it bare. Skin could be peeled away, organs removed, secrets spilled, but nothing went deeper than this.
When it was over, they were panting and breathless, still in their own bodies, but something more than they were before. Sweat gleamed on their skin, except in the dark crevices where their touch made shadows, and they came back down.
It was better than the heady power of an Unforgivable, and more addictive than the sweetest wine. They had never said it aloud, never really bothered with words much at all, because words were often false and language fell short of the uses they needed it for.
"Mine," was all Bellatrix said, her lungs so deprived of oxygen that her tone was barely more than exhaustion.