Sushi and Secrets || Rodolphus ||

Seeing that Dorcas had retrieved her wand and knowing that her laziness outdid her stubbornness when it came to having house elves in her home, it was safe to assume that she had lifted the restrictions on the little cottage to permit some proper service in the place. Roddy cocked his head to the side and once again admired Dorcas’ bum as she wiggled her way past him without acknowledgement and into the en suite, beer in hand. Her rear was so plump he wanted to bite into it – again. If she were to remove all of her concealment charms her flesh would tell the story of Rodolphus’ love affair with her fine arse.

Before joining her for a bit of shower shagging, Rodolphus summoned his house elf, Ader, and put him to work cleaning up the mess they had made on the stairs, and also tasking the elf with doing a load of wash and restocking the liquor in the kitchen. “Take the rubbish out and clear the walk around the house before you go.” He added on his list of chores for the elf, unabashed to be stark naked in front of the creature. “Oh, and Ader, see to it that Mopsy puts Thwaite in the bed with Aurora, as I won’t be home tonight,” he added before crossing the threshold into the bathroom. If ever Aurora knew her daddy would be working late, she liked to sleep with her stuffed dragon because Rodolphus had told her that Thwaite would protect her while she slept, and there was no reason for the princess to doubt her daddy as Thwaite was of course the fiercest dragon in all of Britain.

Steam had already begun to cover the mirror and had fogged up the glass door of the shower stall. He was met with a blast of warm air and a mist of overspray as he opened the door and admired a now wet Dorcas. He smirked at her, ogling her noticeably and giving her a little growl as he stepped into the little shower and pulled the door shut behind him. She liked the water sodding scalding, though Rodolphus found this was not unique to Dorcas and was actually a common yet bizarre habit of many women. He cursed a few times if the impressively hot water hit a more sensitive area but mostly he had grown accustomed to showering in the confined shower that seemed to double as a boiler.

She’d placed his beer on the shelf out of the way of the falling water and he reached for it. “Thanks, love.” He took a sip of the beer as he leaned against the shower wall, which was basically his only choice in the miniscule bathroom. There was just enough space for them to take turns under the spray if they were actually trying to clean themselves up, and the pair could make any sized space work when it came to fucking though the rest of the house was a more suitable space when Rodolphus really wanted to make his mistress scream.

Having their laundry thrown into the wash together was something Rodolphus regularly ordered of Ader, whenever the house elf had the opportunity to enter Dorcas’ home, as it saved time and there were other things the elf could be getting on with. Rodolphus viewed it as a little treat for his mistress’ clothes, too. Cheaply made and worn hard, Dorcas’ wardrobe, while attractive for the most part, was neither expensive nor well cared for. At least, it wasn’t to Rodolphus’ standards. That was why Ader always grabbed whatever else Dorcas had lying around in addition to what Rodolphus had torn off her that day, and used the best detergent on the market, along with fabric softener and elven magic to make her clothes look like new again. And Roddy was fairly certain the only people who ever actually put Dorcas’ clothes in the wardrobe or dresser were Ader or her mother, Emily.

As instructed, Ader always kept out of sight of the petite bombshell. Knowing that Dorcas did not like the idea of having servants, Rodolphus knew not to press his luck by having his house elf serve her directly because Dorcas’ stubbornness was possibly bigger than her ego and there were some fights simply not worth having. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, love.” He was being purposely cheeky as he let his free hand wander over her wet body and took a sip of his beer which he held in the other hand. He only outwardly admitted to summoning his house elf if he wanted to rile her up, and in those situations, it was more of a threat than a notification. Generally, he and Dorcas got on well, mostly because they talked very little and there were certain subjects that were never broached at all. It was well known between the pair that they did not share each other’s world views. She did not know the extent to which Rodolphus was an activist for his beliefs, but she knew what he stood for. Rodolphus rightfully believed that wizards should not be shunted to the side in order for the unimpressive mugglekind to walk about freely in the world. Dorcas naively believed that muggles were somehow better than wizards or something like that. She hung about with muggleborns and she was by far the biggest muggle lover he encountered regularly but there was more to their bizarre relationship than politics and Rodolphus found it surprisingly simple to avoid such topics and remain in a good mood despite her pauper-like status.

Initially it was all about the sex with them. Mind boggling fucking fantastic bloody sex. Dorcas hadn’t fooled anyone except herself in the first year of their ‘relationship’ when she pretended to hate the things they got up to. She might have hated Rodolphus himself, in fact he was damn certain that she had back then, but she loved the sex and the way he made her body tingle and ache in all the right ways. The sort of stuff they got up to back then was humdrum compared to now, but Rodolphus wasn’t going to risk his reputation by roughing up a woman in bed when she didn’t ask for it, and even though he had always been a little rough with Dorcas – owing to their first encounter in the Slytherin quidditch team’s locker room being a sexually charged form of punishment for her distracted playing on the pitch – he hadn’t pushed it as far as he had wanted. He had remained in control with every pretty witch he bedded, but as time went by he found Dorcas more and more willing to go a little further. He pushed her, and she loved it. To this day there was no one left alive after an encounter like that, that Rodolphus could fully let loose with as he wanted aside from Dorcas. She was special to him and what laid between her legs wasn’t the only reason why.

For all the world there was an impression of the Lestranges that Rodolphus had to keep up. He was a gentleman, well educated, a brilliant man. It wasn’t a difficult role to play as it truly did come natural with all his breeding but bloody hell it could be boring. Dorcas was never boring, and he could have a little more fun around her than he could with anyone else. He knew he could make vulgar jokes with her at the beginning because she was so ashamed of herself for letting him touch her that she would never risk others finding out about them just to tell the world he was really rather quite a sod. He caught her attempts to hide a smile when he said something perverted and after a while she didn’t bother hiding them anymore. She played back with him, fed into his humor while teasingly trying to smash his massive ego – something that simply couldn’t be accomplished. She was fun and comfortable, and Gods have mercy she was fucking attractive, especially now as she back into him, wet and soapy.

She was short enough for Rodolphus to rest his chin on her head, should he want to, but that was not the best use of the remainder of the hot water. Setting his beer on the shelf, which was growing warm in the sauna-like shower anyway, Rodolphus ran his now free hand down her stomach and between her thighs. With his opposite hand he pushed her forward, pressing her against the opposite wall of the shower stall before pushing himself against her. Water ran down Dorcas’ back and over Rodolphus’ chest as he thrusted, using his feet against the corners of the floor to brace himself and keep them both from toppling over. Whatever filth she had managed to wash away in that shower, Rodolphus had replaced with a different sort of dirty and before long the warm water turned chilly.

Having satisfied himself, and more importantly having thoroughly satisfied the little vixen showering with him, Rodolphus stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. She had drained him, physically and otherwise, and Rodolphus was looking forward to resting his eyes and allowing Dorcas to play with either or herself or him if she felt so inclined, but to do so in his arms. Having dried himself off and whipped Dorcas in the bum with his rolled-up towel, Rodolphus headed to the bed and the plush mattress he had paid for after he accidentally broke her last bed and apologized with a completely new bedroom set and another bout of rowdy sex.

The former Slytherin had always had a very robust sex drive. From the tender age of twelve when he first lost his virginity, until he finally started up with Dorcas in his seventh year at Hogwarts, Rodolphus had learned he had an incredible appetite for the opposite sex. That hunger had only increased as the years went on. His stamina had greatly improved since his early years, and even still since the first time he had taken Dorcas in the locker room in an angry fit of passion. Stamina was improved with time but as Rodolphus grew older, his recovery time grew longer. Gone were the days that he could go repeatedly with a hiatus no longer than the amount of time it took for him to guzzle a sports drink, but there were perks that counteracted the need for a break here and there. He could last longer, he was more adventurous now, and he had learned many tricks to pleasing a woman that had been absent in his early years. As with everything else, Rodolphus was a quick learner who needed very little studying; a bit of practice with the fairer sex and he was retaining knowledge that would be put to use in future endeavors. He was something of a manwhore but all that experience had created the Sex God that laid in Dorcas’ bed at that moment, so she had no need to complain.

Getting married hadn’t changed his lecherous ways, neither had becoming a father. Rodolphus scoffed at the idea that he would ever ‘settle down’ but he was certainly falling into more of a routine as he grew older. He still slept around without regard for the symbolism the ring on his left hand stood for, and he screwed far more women than just the hot piece of ass climbing into bed with him, but more often than not these days if he was in anyone’s bed, metaphorical or otherwise, it was either his wife’s or his mistress’. Sometimes Bella would join him elsewhere but that was more about the hunt than the conquest. Rodolphus did not recognize the little patterns he was creating for himself. He was nearing 30 and couldn’t simply continue on doing whatever he pleased whenever he pleased. He had responsibilities and people to report to now, and the stresses of the day were easily washed away with a bit of rowdy shagging from one witch or another. Dorcas was far and away his favorite plaything, so it only made sense he sought her out more often. He was clearly her favorite as well, seeing as how it was not uncommon for her to request his company for a few hours and she never complained if he decided to stay the night.

Feeling the warmth of her arse cuddle up against him, Rodolphus slung his arm over Dorcas’ body and pulled her against him under the guise of wanting to play with her tits as he nodded off. The gentle sounds of the kittens running around downstairs, wrestling with each other or playing an ambitious game of tag, were the only noises in the cottage until Rodolphus’ gentle snoring filled the air.

Rodolphus was sitting at the head of the conference table, listening to Bellatrix give a presentation to his family about having another child. She wanted another girl and Rodolphus was angry that she would not consider having a son. Rabastan, who was sat near the middle of the crowded table, suggested he have a son with Bellatrix and Rodolphus could have a son with Rabastan’s fiancée Lilith. The table seemed in agreement with the proposal as Bellatrix burst into flames. The conference room filled with smoke as the Lestrange men discussed their soon-to-be-born sons, apparently unaware of the fire that was now the flames but he remained calm, demanding a drink from his secretary who, strangely enough, was Dorcas’ mate Tersha. When she returned with a glass of scotch, the entire room ablaze and his family apparently swallowed whole by the fire, Tersha offered him a cigarette and upon lighting it for him the dark haired beauty promptly turned the lit cigarette and twisted it onto his left forearm. The burning spread across his arm which began crumbling into black ash but the pain remained as the flames of the room engulfed Rodolphus.

Wrapped around a still nude Dorcas, Rodolphus’ left forearm continued to burn long after the surreal dream had faded, black ink spreading out over his lightly tanned skin. He awoke to the pain with a small jolt and upon realizing what was happening he quickly, yet carefully, began to slide his left arm out from underneath Dorcas’ tiny frame. The Dark Mark on his arm was glistening, the edges so hot that they appeared red like the fire that was summoning Rodolphus to Lord Voldemort. The moon shone through the window but otherwise the room was still dark, dawn still another hour away. Dorcas wouldn’t notice or care that he had left her in the middle of the night, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t leave until he had untangled himself from her tiny clutches.

Managing to free his marked arm from underneath the sleeping beauty, he heard her begin to stir. She thought Roddy was wanting another go with her and she didn’t seem up for it just yet. It wasn’t surprising, and this would hardly be the first time he had woken in the middle of the night to poke her a bit more before falling back to sleep. Just as he had when they were younger, he knew her rejections were not motivated by a lack of desire for him – or at least for his cock – and so should he want to have a little midnight rendezvous, all he needed to do was entice her a little more and she would quickly change her tune. This time, however, Rodolphus was not waking her for a fun time, in fact, he had been trying not to wake her at all. Dorcas did not sleep as soundly as Rodolphus often did.

Dorcas’ moonlit figure rolled over to face him; dark hair wild and unkempt. He could feel the gentle pressure of her hand on his hip and her breasts pressing against his hairy chest. She was barely awake but ready to give herself to him so long as he was quick about it. Quick was a relative term in this regard. “Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Her curves were highlighted in the moonlight. Paired with the groggy voice she spoke with, it was all highly arousing and Rodolphus wanted nothing more than to ignore his summons and fuck Dorcas well and good for the next hour before falling back asleep. He could feel his body begin to respond to her but there wasn’t time. “I’m needed at work,” he explained, sliding himself out from under the blanket and the weight of her hand.

Lord Voldemort didn’t usually summon the Death Eaters in the middle of the night without warning. In fact, there were only a handful of times since he had joined the Dark Lord’s army that Rodolphus could ever remember the burning of his Dark Mark waking him from his sleep. The cover of night afforded them more secrecy, but it was not ideal for plotting to overthrow the wizarding government and slaughter millions of muggles and muggleborns in the process. A holocaust of this magnitude was not hobbled together after a late-night vision, there was careful planning involved and as such this spontaneous summons put Roddy off his nerves. Clearly there was trouble, but who was at fault was yet to be seen. Had Rodolphus miss-stepped? Was Bellatrix in trouble? Perhaps someone had failed in their mission and Rodolphus was being called in at the eleventh hour to finish the job. He couldn’t know until he had arrived in the presence of Lord Voldemort, and Rodolphus was unsure of whether he hoped to be the only one called at this unreasonable hour or for the entire brood to be standing in the ballroom of the old Victorian style home.

Dark thoughts raced through his head as he stood from the bed. Rodolphus worried that something was wrong, very wrong, if he was being called so late in the night. Or so early in the morning. It was that strange period of time where one did not often have to think whether the night had transitioned into morning because more everyone was asleep. Had he been awake at this time, in this cottage, any other day his thoughts would have been preoccupied with other things instead of worrying about the time and the implications the hour possessed.

There was movement in the bed behind him, he could hear her shifting on the mattress and tugging at the sheet. He assumed Dorcas was rolling over to return to sleep, but her voice spoke a little more clearly than it had just a moment ago and the words chilled him. For years Rodolphus had been able to conceal the tattoo that marked him as a faithful follower of Lord Voldemort. There was a time when such a mark would have been more mysterious to an onlooker but Rodolphus himself had thrown the Dark Mark into the sky more times than he bothered to count in order to mark his little victories over the status quo. If there was anyone left in Britain who didn’t know the symbol of Lord Voldemort they were not from the wizarding community and thus an enemy of the Dark Lord. “Go to sleep, Dorcas.”

Without a glance back at her on the bed, Rodolphus moved to the wardrobe where he had a few of his own items hanging. He pulled a pair of black jeans from the back, then a dark button-down shirt. He threw the shirt over the arm of a small chair in the room, and then stepped into the jeans, his back to Dorcas and his left arm held closer to his body. There was no obscuring the mark as he was being summoned. His concealment charms were useless against the Dark Lord’s magic but the moment Rodolphus crossed the wards into Lord Voldemort’s lair the burning would subside, and his charms would become effective once more. Fastening his trousers, Rodolphus reached for the shirt and pulled his arm through the first sleeve. The tattoo was visible again as Rodolphus reached behind him to pull the shirt over his back and slide his arm in the opposite sleeve.

Turning to face her, Rodolphus’ fingers did up the buttons of his shirt, starting from the bottom and working his way up. There was nothing to say to her and she hadn’t leapt out of the bed to try to tackle him and arrest him as she ought to have done, being an Auror. Rodolphus had gotten away with doing a variety of illegal activities in front of Dorcas but none so big as being linked to a revolutionary who murdered people in the name of his cause. Rod’s eyes met Dorcas’ for only a moment before he moved to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer, rummaging around until he found a pair of his own socks. His trainers had been brought upstairs by Ader sometime while they slept, after having left them among the pile of clothes near the foot of the stairs the evening before. Rodolphus grabbed them and brought them with him as he sat on the edge of the bed and unfolded his socks.