Sushi and Secrets || Rodolphus ||

“Make it go,” Aurora wiggled her arms above her head and shook her little body, a crayon clenched in each fist as she demonstrated what she wanted her daddy to do. “You want it to dance?” Rodolphus clarified, looking down at the coloring book they had been working on. Aurora had chosen for them to color a picture of dragon and she had insisted daddy make it look like Thwaite, the little stuffed dragon Rodolphus had given his daughter upon her homecoming from the hospital when she was born. Thwaite the Destroyer, as he was known properly, had belonged to Rodolphus as a young boy. It was his absolute favorite thing in the world until he began noticing the fairer sex at the tender age of twelve, and soon left Thwaite to sit on a shelf, collecting metaphorical dust (the house elves would have been hung by their ears if any real dust had been accumulated anywhere in the Lestrange family manor). Despite Aurora’s insistence that her father make the dragon in her coloring book look like her toy, she also demanded the dragon be pink and red, and when Rodolphus pointed out that Thwaite was blue she shrugged her shoulders at him and demanded pink.

Rodolphus withdrew his wand and watched as his princess’ eye grew twice as large at the sight of it. Aurora loved magic and she often begged her parents for her own wand, not satisfied at the dozens of toy wands and broomsticks she owned. The dark-haired little witch wanted to be just like her mummy, using spells to make things appear and disappear or to become something else entirely. Aurora was already showing signs of magic, as was to be expected from her practically royal pure bloodline. On occasion her tantrums would shake the room, quite literally, and she even made glitter rain from the ceiling like snow when her daddy told her she was finally big enough to fly on his broomstick with him. There was no doubt in the Lestranges’ minds that Aurora was going to excel in her magical studies, she was born for it and her interest and demand for magic at such a young age was promising. Dropping her crayons onto the carpet, Aurora danced with the two-dimensional, poorly colored pink dragon as it wiggled on the parchment in front of her. Rodolphus smiled as he watched her.

“Alright, love. Daddy has some work to get back to.” Rodolphus pressed his lips to Aurora’s forehead and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I want to work, too,” she demanded. “Pretty girls don’t need to work, princess. You get to have fun and play all day long. Why don’t you go play out in the garden,” he suggested, getting to his feet from his place on the floor of Aurora’s bedroom, the little brunette still clinging firmly around his neck as he moved. Rodolphus moved his arms under her bum to support her as he stood, she was clearly not giving up on holding on to him. “Take your broomstick and Mopsy will go with you. Then maybe later if you’re a good girl, daddy will take you flying on his broom. Alright?” He gave her another kiss, this time on the nose. Aurora grumbled but agreed and she sulked the entire time as her father set her on the ground and she opened her wardrobe and pulled a sparkly purple broomstick out. By the time she had passed through the door of her bedroom and into the large corridor the sulking was gone and she ran down the hallway shouting for her house elf.

Rodolphus wasn’t long in his study when a familiar owl came resting on the window ledge, giving the pane a good peck with its beak. Roddy smiled involuntarily and the pulled his wand to open the window without moving from his place behind his desk. The bird swooped in, dropped an envelope in front of Rodolphus, and then stood on the desk as if waiting for praise or a treat. There had never been a back and forth correspondence between the two, so the owl knew there would be no message to deliver in return, but it had apparently not gotten the point after all these years that Rodolphus was not the cuddle and coo sort of bloke when it came to thanking a creature for doing a job. “Off the desk,” he ordered, staring at the bird’s claws on his polished wood desktop. The bird obeyed and rather than wait around any longer for affection it would not be receiving, it took off out the window back to its owner.

The envelope was not addressed and when he turned it over he saw it had been sealed shut with what at first glance looked like spellotape but upon closer inspection was in fact muggle tape. Dorcas was playing games with him already and they weren’t even in the same country yet. The letter inside was simple, as a woman’s mind often was. She wanted food and, though the letter didn’t state as much outright, sex. It was a booty owl and Rodolphus rarely declined.

He couldn’t be sure how long she had been kept waiting, knowing Dorcas was bright enough to instruct her owl to deliver the message when he was alone, or maybe he was giving the witch too much credit and it was really savvy on the part of the owl, but Rodolphus arrived some time later with a takeaway bag full of sushi. He let himself into her cottage which was unlocked, though if it had been locked he would let himself in all the same, owning to the fact that she had long ago taken to giving him a key to wherever she was staying at the time. “You had better not be cooking anything,” he hollered into the tiny cottage as he pushed the door shut behind him. “There’s no need for such vicious threats.”

On several occasions Roddy had tried to gift Dorcas cooking lessons or the use of a personal chef in order to keep her from accidentally committing suicide by wayward roast. She always refused and threw an annoyingly adorable tantrum to which Rodolphus was forced to shut her up by shoving some part of his body into her mouth, usually his dick, but his tongue or fingers worked just as well. He had never known someone of her age to consume so much cereal, but he presumed cereal was preferred over her dying in a kitchen fire or poisoning herself, so he rarely made mention of her poor eating habits anymore. Rodolphus moved through the little cottage and into the kitchen where he set the bag on the counter and began to pull out Styrofoam containers of sushi rolls, nigiri, seaweed, and edamame.

Food was one of the few things Dorcas would openly admit that she was okay with him paying for, though he spent enough galleons on her over the years there really was no reason for her to put up a stink at all. So long as he didn’t get her jewelry (why would he?) or buy her something for seemingly no reason, she would just roll her eyes, say a petty thank you, and get on with things while truly enjoying being pampered by him. Most of the time he claimed what he bought was for his own luxury, and to an extent that was true. She often opted for cheaper things, like towels which felt like they’d been made of sandpaper or beds that broke far too easily. He replaced her things without telling her – except the bed, she had let him purchase her a whole sodding bedroom set after that little mishap – and she would cleverly not bring it up or at least wait a few months before casually mentioning that she’d noticed. How one couldn’t notice instantly that they weren’t sleeping on paper thin sheets was beyond Rodolphus.

He had brought way more food than the two of them could eat, he always did when she demanded he bring something over. It was better to have too much than not enough and he learned early on that they would fight over the last piece of ebi nigiri if it came down to it, and it wasn’t the sort of fighting that often resulted in heightened amorous activities. The pair of them had a rocky history with sushi. Dorcas had never eaten before Roddy introduced her to it. He had brought it over to her flat which, if you can believe it, was even smaller than the little shack she called a cottage now. It was barely more than two rooms with paper thin walls, so when he finally got her to stop complaining like a child and try some, he then spent the next twenty minutes listening to her getting sick all over the bathroom. It was a nightmare situation and she wouldn’t even screw him after that. It was a complete waste of an evening and Rodolphus honestly couldn’t remember what had made him decide to have her try it again a second time but he did, easing her in more slowly with the cooked dishes first.

Rodolphus was basically now her food delivery service but as he got paid in really rowdy, earth shattering sex, he was fine with their little arrangement. It wasn’t always food, but if she asked him over it was always under the pretense of something else. The subtext of every invitation was ‘come fuck me senseless’ but she didn’t like admitting that until their clothes were on the floor. Conversely, when Rodolphus wanted to screw around he found no need for pretenses. He showed up, there was a few minutes of banter as he fixed himself a drink in her kitchen, then it was nearly straight away shagging each other’s brains out. Sometimes he stayed a while afterwards, other times he would leave. If it was late he would simply stay the night and let himself out the next morning after she had gone in to work. It was a very casual arrangement and considering neither of them were looking for anything more than that, it was really rather perfect.

Dorcas appeared set a couple of plates on the counter next to him then asked what he wanted to drink. Rodolphus’ eyes followed her tiny skirt around the kitchen. “I think there’s a Sapporo in the back of the refrigerator,” he replied casually, though a smirk let on that he was up to something. He had no sodding clue if there was anything in the back of the fridge, he simply wanted to watch her bend over to look for it, and as he did his hand slide up the back of her leg and flipped her skirt up, revealing her arse. He gave her a hard smack and watched her ass jiggle. It was perhaps his favorite sight in the world. Dorcas was small but she had a nice, thick backside and he could spend hours admiring it. She would let him, too, because unlike many women, Dorcas was well aware of her assets and did not apologize for them. He loved it.

“Quite finished?” “Fuck no,” he replied, an incredulous expression on his dark features. “But I suppose I can wait until her highness has eaten.” He smirked again, a constant sight when speaking with his mistress. “Then it will be my turn to eat.” He made a crude gesture with his fingers and tongue. By this point in their bizarre little relationship, all of the innuendos had been made, all the pervy jokes shared. He did not care in the slightest. Dorcas made him feel like a teenager again. He could almost always go for a round with any pretty little thing, but there was something about being around Dorcas that got Rodolphus riled up like no other woman could. It didn’t hurt that she was alright to be around when their clothes were still on, or while he was recuperating for round two, three, or six. She was clever enough to hold a decent conversation without reciting the contents of her latest shopping bag like most witches he had dated in the past, before Bellatrix. She made him laugh and didn’t mind being rather ridiculous with him at times. Most importantly, well, most importantly after being a fucking fantastic shag, Dorcas was confident and strong willed and all every sort of sexy you could be. Roddy would always take fucking over chatting but in the interim, she was good enough company, aside from muggle-loving and thinking wizards should have to hide like vermin from the lesser beings without magic. Oh, and not being a blonde, that was a big tick on the con list as well.

He shut the fridge just before she told him to, not having been born in a barn as she clearly was. A barn where they stole food from each other’s plates. My, she was savage. Growing up poor must have been a bitch, he was glad he never had to deal with that. Rodolphus had always been rich, owing to his grandfather who topped the Fitzroy list of Wealthiest Wizards in the UK back in the early 1920s. A place that the Lestrange family has maintained for nearly sixty years. Dorcas, on the other hand, thought this squatty little cottage was a decent home, and judging by the place her parents have lived for the past decade (or possibly longer, he really only started having chats over tea with Dorcas’ mum after she graduated from Hogwarts) she was probably sincere in her thinking. As Rodolphus explained upon his first visit to the miniscule Welsh cottage, it was just about the same size as his daughter Aurora’s playhouse, though Aurora’s had finer furnishings because she didn’t bitch and moan when Rodolphus wanted to buy her something.

He took his plate and the beer she had found for him and followed her over to the little table in the kitchen. He would never be comfortable with this, eating in the kitchen like a servant. It was one thing if they were grabbing a snack while they talked but this was a full bloody meal he had brought over for her and they were sitting down like peasants eating in the sodding kitchen. He knew it would make no difference to mention it, not that that knowledge ever hindered him from pointing out how utterly pedestrian Dorcas was. In fact, he was about to complain when she spoke. “You don’t know how to use them anyway. Just use your fingers. I’ve seen you eat pasta with your hands, you can pick up a sodding piece of fish.” She made a mess with chopsticks as well. Half her rice would be on the table once, in an almost glorious display, she managed to launch a spring roll halfway across the room when she tried to take a bite. It was impressive how uncoordinated she could be with the simplest of tasks, yet with a wand or a knife she was bloody brilliant.

Despite his complaints, Rodolphus stood only a second after taking a seat, and crossed the tiny kitchen in two steps, grabbed her a pair of chopsticks, and jiggled her breast with them as he passed them to her. “Try to keep the soy sauce out of my eye this time, love.”

Why on earth would Rodolphus need to do housework, at her house or any other, his own included? She had made this little complaint before and whenever she had it was often met with the offer of a house elf, to which she adamantly refused. Regardless of her apparent enjoyment of living like a poor person without servants, she had to be aware that Rodolphus ordered his own house elf, Ader, to come round her place while she was gone and clean up the place. Who did she think washed away the wet spots from her sheets? It certainly wasn’t Rodolphus.

Having delivered the chopsticks to the woman who was surprisingly too lazy to walk two steps to the counter in her own kitchen, but had energy enough to keep up with his sexual appetite, Rodolphus returned to his seat. “Where else would you like me to shoot it, love? Your tits? Up your arsehole?” He knew better than to release himself anywhere that could get them in trouble, but then Rodolphus didn’t rely on the pull out method completely to keep from knocking up his mistress or any of his lovers and flings. He was careful, and for all the sex he had had in his lifetime, to only have the one child was a little worrisome if he truly took a minute to think on it but he chalked it up to his precautions and his wife’s inhospitable womb. With his own chopsticks (which he actually knew how to use), he picked up a piece of salmon roll and popped it into his mouth, continuing to speak as soon she he swallowed. “I am nothing if not flexible. Though, not as flexible as you, doll,” he added happily. On a number of occasions, he had managed to twist and bend Dorcas into seemingly unnatural positions in order to get them both off. She was as pliable as string and he did so love tying her up.

After fending off a few wayward shrimp and several clumps of wasabi coming at him and every other which way from Dorcas’ direction, Rodolphus pulled another bottle of beer from her fridge and popped the cap off on the edge of her counter with a solid smack. Leaning against the refrigerator door to close it as he took a sip of beer, he patted his trouser pockets looking for his cigarette case. Rod pulled the thin silver case from his pocket and opened it, revealing a row of traditional cigarettes and a few special ones on the end. He pulled one of the joints from the case stuck it in his mouth, snapping the cigarette case shut with one hand and replacing it in his pocket before drawing his wand to light the joint. He inhaled as the paper began to burn and he looked over to Dorcas, waiting to be scolded for smoking in her kitchen or at the very least for leaving his dishes on the table without bothering to even make an attempt at cleaning up after himself.

She scolded him for opening his beer on her counter, as if it was any trouble to replace such shoddy craftsmanship should he harm anything. It would probably cost Rodolphus less than what he spent for a dress for one of Aurora’s dollies and that of course would be an upgrade to the shabby little cottage, but she was only an Auror and obviously didn’t make enough money to properly sustain any sort of comfortable lifestyle. Dorcas really was lucky to have Rodolphus around to pay for things when she needed it, and she would always begrudgingly or in some round-about way thank him and then screw his brains out, so it really was worth a few spare galleons to take care of her.

Dorcas’ outburst was short lived and Rodolphus leaned against the refrigerator watching as she tried again to eat without proper English utensils. She ended up stabbing the thing and plopping it into her mouth. The joint between his lips wobbled as he laughed at her excitement at eating a single piece of sushi after – how long had it been, five minutes for the one piece? Her entire posture changed as she raised her arms triumphantly, she seemed more emboldened by her success, sitting taller.

Celebratory festivities were short lived as the tiny brunette whipped her head around to face him at breakneck speed the moment the first puff of smoke furled into the air. Attack by chopstick was not a novel concept between the pair, and Rodolphus brought his left arm up swiftly to bloke the oncoming bit of wood, keeping it from gouging his eye but also spilling a bit of his beer in the process. “Fuckin’ hell!” he bellowed as the chopstick grazed his arm and left a sharp sting not unlike the rugburn he’d gotten on his back a number of times from the carpet that covered her living room floor. Her shouts sounded like a foreign language with food still crudely in her mouth but having heard her speak with something shoved inside her mouth on several occasions he easily understood her meaning. “Its bloody freezing out there,” he retorted, as if that would make a difference. It did not. Before she had a chance to draw her wand and hex him, Rodolphus threw his arms into the air in surrender. “You’re fucking mental,” was his parting words as he strolled out of the kitchen, beer and joint in hand, toward the front door, muttering loudly enough that she could hear him. “If you had a sodding smoking room like a fucking respectable witch…”

Snow was falling again. The trail of footsteps he had carved in the powdery blanket on the way up to the house less than an hour ago had already been reclaimed by mother nature. If it wasn’t so sodding cold out he might have bothered to take in the beauty of the country in winter but unless he was melting snow by making friction with Dorcas in it, then he didn’t really care for being outside in the winter. The city in winter was a different matter but apparently it was cheaper to life out here in the sticks and at least they had privacy to do as they pleased. In twelve years of shagging Dorcas, they had only had a handful of moments when they’d been interrupted and as far as he knew there had only been one time when the intruder had seen him, but it was one of Dorcas’ friends that seemed more concerned with avoiding any sight of skin than recognizing who it was that was strutting about Dorcas’ cottage in the buff.

Flicking the butt of his joint into the snow in front of him, Rodolphus exhaled the last bit of smoke which mingled with the cloud of hot breath in the cold air, just as all the others had. His cheeks were pink, as were his hands. He came back inside, leaving the empty beer bottle on her front step without a second thought. “Get your sexy ass over here and warm me the fuck up! It’s sodding colder than Father Christmas’ balls out there.” The door shut behind him as he came inside, hopefully having given her enough time to finish something of her dinner before he exhausted all her energy.

Her voice carried easily through the tiny cottage and he grinned at her response. “I’m not sucking on ice cubes, that’s your bloody job,” he hollered back. Roddy rubbed his hands together to create a bit of friction in the hopes of warming them up as a little ball of fluff came bounding down the stairs. It was the black and white one, he didn’t remember which of the two stupid names belonged to this one. The kitten darted straight under his feet as he began to walk toward the stairs, causing him to take a series of short shuffles to avoid stepping on the damned thing. It hardly seemed to notice as it hurried off in the opposite direction as Rodolphus, presumably looking for it’s sibling to pounce on. The kittens were cute enough, Roddy thought, but a bit of a pain in the arse. Literally. The first time he had come over after Dorcas adopted the things, one of them – the calico one, kept swatting at his ass as he was screwing Dorcas on the sofa. It sat on the coffee table and jumped on him repeatedly, but thankfully the kitten’s tiny claws reached only his spectacular ass and not the more delicate bits that were available at that moment.

“Bring me another beer, love,” he called casually as if he were speaking to his wife and not the woman he screwed on the side. “I’m heading upstairs and if you’re not there in two minutes I’m starting without you.” This was not a hollow threat, as Dorcas well knew. He grabbed hold of the banister and started his ascent up the stairs, only to be tripped up yet again as the same black and white kitten darted past him, this time heading in the same direction. He missed the step in his attempt to avoid the cat and fell forward, stopping himself from falling completely by extending his arm which slammed into the stair as the kitten continued on its way without a single care in the world. “Fucking cat nearly killed me!”

There were loads of things Rodolphus wanted Dorcas to kiss and not a single one of them was a boo-boo. He turned himself around to face her on the stairs, half rolling as he was practically planking on the steps, planting his arse on the carpeted stair so he was just below the brunette’s eye level as she stood a few steps down from him. “Yeah,” he answered her sarcastic question as he unfastened his trousers, “it’s just right here.” He reached inside his pants and grabbed himself to point out where his ‘boo-boo’ was that she could kiss as Dorcas leaned against the wall to admire him. He admired her in return, leaning back against the step at his back and allowing his eyes to drift leisurely up her bare legs to the hem of the little skirt her knew she had put on specifically for him. Dorcas rarely wore skirts, she preferred impossibly tight trousers than he had to nearly rip to get off of her and on a few occasions he had done just that in order to speed along the process. The replacement trousers he had purchased her in lieu of an apology for ruining her things were most definitely the most expensive item in her wardrobe. Dorcas in a skirt meant that she didn’t want there to be any wasted time between them and Rodolphus mentally agreed in that point.

Reaching out with his right hand, Rodolphus caressed the smooth skin of Dorcas’ thigh, his hand rising higher and higher until it was hidden completely by the material of her skirt. Rodolphus beckoned her to him with a few gentle movements of his fingers, pulling her up to meet him on the stairs with his free hand. His left hand moved to her hair as he pulled her in for a kiss, biting at her lip. She tasted like salmon and cider and he completely did not care. Without regard for the drinks she held in her hands, Roddy pulled her onto the step and turned her around as he countered the movement in order to switch places with her. Dorcas now with her back to the stairs and Roddy in position over her, he lowered himself between her knees and flicked his tongue over the silky material of her knickers before pulling them to the side.

The sun had disappeared without their notice as Rodolphus laid on his back, Dorcas in his arms. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath that he took, a stupid smile on his face and the urge for another cigarette creeping up on him. He most definitely did not want to go outside now, knowing the cold would have only gotten harsher the later it got. He settled instead for grasping for the bottle of beer that laid on its side just out of arm’s reach. It was no use without letting go of the wild minx wrapped against him just for the off chance there was anything left in the bottle that hadn’t been spilt in their feverish attempts to please one another. It was situations precisely such as this one that a proper witch needed a house elf. Had Dorcas had any servants at all he could have a scotch and a petite vixen in his hands simultaneously instead of having to choose between the two things that made him happy.