Killer Queen

The encore ended and amid the chanting for a second coming, the lights around the auditorium slowly brightened. Dorcas was nestled against Rodolphus’ chest as the people around them began to thin. The floor was strewn with plastic cups, spilled liquids, and other assorted bits of rubbish. Rodolphus finished the last swallow of his now room temperature beer and tossed the empty cup onto the ground carelessly as Dorcas turned her green eyes up at him. Her question spurred a smirk to run across Rodolphus’ face as he grabbed the waistband of her pants and pulled her through the crowd towards the nearest toilets.

It was the men’s toilets he found first. Pushing open the door and brushing past the blokes all trying to make their way to and from the urinals, Roddy pulled Dorcas into a stall and pressed the door shut as he began to undo her trousers with his free hand. When the stall door was latched, he quickly yanked Dorcas’ jeans and knickers down far enough to give him access as he allowed her to unfasten his own trousers, then he turned her around and pressed her face up against the graffitied wall of the stall as he took her from behind.

There was riotous laughter and hollering from the other side of the stall door. A hand reached below the stall door with a camera pointed in their direction, whose flash reflected against the dingy tile on the back wall. If the poorly angled camera caught anything, it was surely a blur as the owner of the camera appeared to be rather high and not all that sturdy on his feet. Floppy hair and peeping eyes peered over the top of the metal divider from the neighboring stalls but when Roddy, still pounding fiercely into his date for the evening, reached up and pushed one of them away, causing the peeping Tom to fall off the toilet seat he'd been standing on and ,from the sounds of it, slipped into the toilet bowl itself, the other looky-loos seemed to disappear as well.

A few low groans of passionate relief and still some hooting and hollering from the peeping Toms on the other side of the flimsy stall doors signaled Rodolphus’ release. Normally Roddy wouldn’t have been so public with his mistress but they were in America and with very little risk to his personal or professional reputation, there wasn’t much need to be discrete, not when most everyone here was half baked, piss drunk, or a lovely mixture of both. The fingers of his right hand were entwined with Dorcas’ up against the metal wall, partially covering a dirty limerick and a drawing of a dick in permanent marker, his left hand giving one last taste of pleasure before he pulled himself away from her. He would be running down her inner thigh soon but Dorcas pulled her knickers and jeans up. As she turned, tits still out, Rodolphus lowered himself to suck on her breasts and give her pale skin a gentle bite before he too pulled up his trousers and made himself presentable. He watched happily as she jiggled herself back into her bra and pulled down her top. “You’ve got absolutely perfect tits, love,” he complimented, a much more specific sort of compliment than he used to give her after they were done shagging. When they were younger and Dorcas tried to convince herself that she didn’t enjoy what they got up to in private, he would always leave her with what he considered a kind remark about how good she was and an unwelcomed kiss on the cheek, often times stealing her knickers and pocketing them to keep as a sort of trophy. From time to time he still made off with Dorcas’ panties but after twelve years of screwing around it just didn’t happen as often. Now she didn’t turn to avoid his lips on hers and she had dropped the act that she was repulsed by his character. He had a sodding key to her place, she clearly wanted his dick as much as he wanted her.

Running his hand through his hair and brushing it out of his face, Roddy checked to make sure she was finished dressing before he unlatched the stall door and stepped out into the snickering crowd of men, all waiting to see what pretty young thing had been rushed into the toilet for a quick go. Just as urgently as he pushed past the crowd to get Dorcas into the loo, he again pushed past them to get out, shoving one guy hard into the wall who had the audacity to raise his hand up for a high five as if he and Rodolphus were buddies and this was a locker room in which they would share tales of their conquests. Dorcas was not a conquest. Not anymore. He wasn’t sure what to classify it as but she was something more than that after all this time. He preferred the term ‘mistress’ and she preferred to slap him whenever he said it.

The crowd inside the auditorium had died down as Rodolphus led Dorcas out into the cool night’s air. “After party?” he asked with a wicked grin and a wiggle of his thick eyebrows. They could sight-see around New Orleans tomorrow, if they managed to leave the hotel room long enough to see anything, but Rodolphus had acquired said hotel room specifically because the band was staying there and were known for having riotous parties after their shows. They could party with Freddie and the gang, and retire to their own room whenever they wanted, granting they didn’t pass out right there on the spot.

There are several different ways to be considered attractive. The most obvious is physical beauty, which Dorcas had in spades. She had a tight little body with enough curves to be able to hold on properly as he drilled her, and her arse was so firm and plump it jiggled perfectly whenever Rodolphus gave it a good smack. One’s Gringott’s account was another form of attractiveness and sadly Dorcas didn’t quite stack up there but as a woman this wasn’t weighed too heavily against her. At least she had managed to move out of that cramped little flat in the city and find herself a cramped little cottage in the country. She really had very little expectations in the way of space or lifestyle, she’d even put up wards to keep Rodolphus from bringing in his house elves to tidy up the place when she wasn’t there, as he was want to do in their earlier years of screwing around. Poor she was, but she was also rather lazy and conveniently lifted the wards whenever she mentioned she was having family over for holidays or other important events that she didn’t want to clean up for. Rodolphus didn’t mind, it was no skin off his back where his elves were cleaning, so long as it benefited him and he never pulled Mopsy away from his daughter Aurora’s care so there was no harm done there.

Above wealth and on par with beauty was a woman’s confidence; Dorcas had something beyond confidence and it was attractive as all hell. She knew every bit of her body was perfection, and the bits that weren’t were still attached to an angel and that was all anyone ever needed to consider. She took compliments as fact and never shied away from them as some women were known to do. She spoke her mind – bordering on insubordinate but Roddy had a way of handling that. All in all, two out of three wasn’t bad and Rodolphus would have fucked her simply for her beauty so the fact that he also rather enjoyed her most of the time was an added bonus.

Pouting at him and using a sickeningly sweet voice that would make any other guy cream in his pants, Dorcas played on his earlier comments about needing a new outfit for the after party. “How about you go nude?” he suggested with a wiggle of his brow as they continued back towards their hotel. “Show that poufter, Mercury, what he’s missing, eh?” He lifted Dorcas’ shirt, revealing her bra as he began walking backwards so he, along with dozens of passersby, could stare at her tits. He was certain to be doing lines off those perky mounds in no time, off her arse too if he had his way.

Roddy would enjoy Dorcas being nude at the after party for all of four seconds before his jealous overcame him and he started bashing skulls. He had never been good with sharing his things and Dorcas was definitely his, even if she was kept a dirty, dirty little secret. Even as a boy Rodolphus had trouble sharing things. When his little brother Rabastan wanted to play with any of his toys, Roddy would punch him in the gut until he was doubled over and then he would take back whatever it was his brother had tried to borrow. It was just simpler to buy the boys each their own copy of everything but even that Roddy found a problem with. He would stomp his feet and throw things around the room until his parents agreed that his brother didn’t have to have all the same things as him. Having two toy Shooting Star broomsticks in the back garden was apparently unacceptable to the tantruming tot and Merlin forbid his brother have the same set of tin soldiers as he did.

Even when he’d grown a bit older, he found sharing a dormitory at Hogwarts to be rather difficult – well, difficult for everyone else. Roddy took up nearly twice as much space as any of his mates did, and he didn’t even have more personal items than the average student. He just insisted upon having the space. A little extra room around his bed, more space around his wardrobe, he just took it, and no one questioned him after their first year because anyone who had would have had to see Madam Pomfrey about a mysterious bloody nose. Anything he cared about was his, and no one else could have it, look at it, or think about it without meeting his fists.

Dorcas was only his when he felt someone else wanted her or, as unlikely as it seemed, when she wanted someone else. He was married and not looking for any sort of real relationship. Emotional connections were overrated and tended to be more trouble than they were worth. It was why his relationship with Bellatrix worked out, most days. He would pummel anyone who dared to look at Dorcas the wrong way and if they thought about touching her, as the bloke during the concert had done, then they were in for a world of hurt. He never thought much about it. It wasn’t as if he sat about thinking of how Dorcas belonged to him and he didn’t plan out his vicious attacks on any encroaching gents. It was all very natural, instinctual. His status was being threatened and he reacted, plain and simple, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still excited at the idea of watching Dorcas strut around in the buff in front of hundreds of coked up groupies. It just meant it wouldn’t last long, if she even agreed to it.

“I know just where to put it,” he said with a low growl, pulling on her shirt like a lead and bringing her into him as their steps slowed. Thick hands grasped her buttocks and lifted her up, spreading her legs around his waist as he brought her up to meet him properly. Her legs locked around his middle helped to keep her aloft as one hand began to slide across her bum, his fingers caressing the denim that was covering a very intimate area that Roddy had ventured hundreds of times before. “Right here,” he whispered, his lips ghosting hers as he spoke before he pressed them together hungrily. It had been several years since she began allowing him to kiss her but every time it still felt like a victory over her. Rodolphus always got his way and if he wanted to kiss a gorgeous petite currently-blonde haired vixen then he bloody well would.

Teeth dragged across Rodolphus’ lower lip and he returned the favor with a little more force, enough to force a single droplet of blood to appear on her plump lip. He tasted the metallic flavor immediately and kissed her deeper. His grip on her arse tightened. Rodolphus was very near to skipping the after party altogether, choosing instead to take her back to their hotel room and destroy the place in a fit of lust, but then he could just do that at the party anyway and after all, her birthday deserved something a little more out of the usual than rowdy hotel sex. He broke the kiss with a deep, guttural growl, his chest rising and falling a little more heavily than it had just a moment ago. A tiny speck of crimson formed on her lip as he pulled away and before he set her down he ran his tongue over it once more and smirked. “Come on, love. Let’s have Mercury sign those tits before he takes a hit off them.” Smacking her across the bum, he continued on down the street once more, the Fairmont Hotel quickly coming into view.

The Imperial Ballroom was small in comparison to the Auditorium where the band had performed, but large enough that one couldn’t possibly take in all of the outrageous sights at once. The entire room had been transformed from an elegant event room into a jungle. Green vines covered the walls, the lights were dimmed, and a mist permeated the room compliments of very large smoke machines decorated to look like giant boulders. At the center of the room was a series of large cages with scantily clad dancers, male and female, hanging from the ceiling just above the heads of party-goers. Some of the taller folks could reach up and stroke the leg of a dancer which seemed a welcomed action as one of the caged men had crouched down to suck on the fingers of an effeminate looking man as someone snapped a picture. Poles had been erected around the jungle-like ballroom, with strippers close enough to be petted. Topless waitresses roamed the room, serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres. A dwarf passed in front of Rodolphus, balancing a platter of cocaine on his head with little straws in the breast pocket of his coat. He didn’t seem to be the only little person serving drugs around the room though none of the others had yet passed within range for Roddy to see what was on offer. As the dwarf turned and offered them a line, Rodolphus leaned over and in a whisper reminded Dorcas that she had no jurisdiction here and that no one back home would ever know if she wanted to snort a little coke from atop a midget’s head.

It wasn’t all sex and drugs, though admittedly that was the majority of what the party had to offer. Whomever organized the event had clearly gone out of their way to hire as many intriguing acts as possible. In addition to the bearded fat lady smoking a cigarette with her cunt, there was a stage at the far end of the room where a drag queen was performing to a boisterous crowd who were cheering in front of her. One corner of the room lit up orange as a huge flame erupted from a fire breather’s mouth, and beside him a snake charmer was coaxing a king cobra from a basket.

Everything was glorious in it’s excess and it was exactly what Rodolphus had hoped it would be. Dorcas was an Auror, yes, sworn to uphold the law, but she was often up for a good time and he did so love attempting to corrupt her. First a pile of coke and a transvestite prostitute, then eventually a little murder and mayhem. How he would love to see Dorcas drain the life out of one of these muggles, it didn’t much matter how. She could strangle them – she was fond of choking as a recipient, so perhaps she’d like to be the deliverer, or she could use her magic. She was a brilliant fighter, the pair often dueled as a form of exercise and foreplay. In fact, it was their first real dueling session in which Dorcas had conjured a hot-iron and branded Rodolphus like a steer. The word ‘Par’ was forever etched into his rib cage, and she had paid dearly for such a bold move. A broken hip and a trip to St Mungo’s were required after Roddy was through with her, but Dorcas had enjoyed herself, as was the point. She would even get a sort of longing look in her eye as her fingers traced the slightly raised marks on his bare skin that persisted almost a decade later, and it was not uncommon for Rodolphus to threaten to break the other hip if she ever tried something like that again with him.

Corrupting an officer of the law, an Auror even, was in and of itself the definition of a good time but Dorcas took it to a whole other level. Sure, Rodolphus could have hit on any other female Auror and likely lured them into this hedonistic world of sex and drugs but there was something about the tiny brunette that always made things that much more exciting. Perhaps it was because she, more than anyone else, truly enjoyed and craved the debauchery they got up to. If she only had Bella’s blood lust, too…

The night was young but as time progressed so too did Rodolphus’ energy, aided in no small part to the drugs in his system. If Dorcas was refusing anything offered to her, then she did it in such a manner that Roddy had no idea she was being a killjoy, because she truly wasn’t. She went along with all of it, no matter what it was, and if asked Rodolphus wouldn’t even be able to tell you everything that had happened as it all seemed a whirlwind to him now. Dorcas’ plump lips were on his, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more. More of her. More cocaine. More of this evening.

Rodolphus yanked Dorcas’ trousers down around her bum, spun her like a record, and then forced her head down. “I know you like this position, love” he said as his hand pressed firmly against the back of her neck. A row of white powder against her milky flesh was only evident for a moment before that rush that took over his entire body flooded over him. He could feel his heart thumping heavily in his chest, rapidly moving, almost dancing. Yes, it was dancing to the music. There was music playing, had it always been playing? Yes, it was a concert but they weren’t at the concert any longer but there was still music so it must still be a concert. There is a stage, concerts have stages, yes this was a concert. Rodolphus wanted to dance.

He hadn’t even been aware that he was biting her but now he could taste her blood and he did so enjoy that. His hands roamed freely over her pale, naked arse, unaware of the crowd that had circled them and had taken to watching them as if they were one of those muggle telly productions Dorcas tormented Roddy with every now and again, only a coked up Rodolphus Lestrange biting the ass of a pretty little English Auror was way more enticing than whatever the Bradys or the Bunkers were up to. Rodolphus smacked her, hard, leaving an outline of his hand on her otherwise smooth skin. One hand still rested on the back of her neck, one cupped her right buttocks, and a third was fondling the other side. Rodolphus stared at the third hand for only a moment before his mind worked things out in an exuberant fashion.

Fueled by rage, cocaine, alcohol, and whatever else he had managed to take throughout the night, Rodolphus flung the muggle owner of the wandering hand to the floor and leapt on top of him. The wind brushed past his face as his arms moved like jackhammers, pummeling the man underneath him. "Don't you dare put your filthy hands on her, you fucking muggle filth!" Rodolphus' voice boomed as if amplified in his anger. His blood covered knuckles were not enough to quench this seething violence inside of Rodolphus. His left hand wrapped around the man’s throat, his face purpling under the red mess that was left after Rodolphus ceased punching him. As the man sputtered for air, Roddy’s right hand moved to his pocket where he kept his wand, preparing to end this vial creature that dared to touch, or even glance at, what did not belong to him.

Eyes bulging slightly and tears forming in the corners, the muggle was a lovely shade of purplish-blue. Under the man’s blood, Rodolphus’ knuckles were white, the muscles in his arm tensing as he squeezed further and further. He knew exactly how much pressure was needed to make the man’s eyes burst forth from his skull and while he was nowhere near that point yet, Roddy was already envisioning it. “You think you can fucking touch her,” Rodolphus’ words were strained and low, barely more than a growl as he snarled at the muggle underneath him. "Only I get to touch her, you piece of shit." His free hand was working its way into his pocket but before he could grasp the wooden handle of his wand, Rodolphus’ body was pulled from the floor.

He bucked against the sausage-like fingers of the two burly security guards as they dragged him away from the man who lay bloodied on the floor, groaning and barely moving as the crowd closed in around him. “Fucking vermin! I’ll fucking kill you if you fucking try that fucking shit again, you fucking tosser! Muggle parasite!” His aggression turned from the offending muggle to the two blokes dragging him clear across the event room and through the double doors into the corridor. “Get your sodding hands off me, you bloody cocksuckers! Do you fucking know who I am?! I’ll have your fucking heads on a spike, you bloody muggle morons! Get the fuck off me!”

Rodolphus’ outburst had caused the evenings festivities to be halted for only a moment. Before long heads were turning away as the doors of the event room swung shut and Rodolphus was tossed out of the hotel and onto the curb. “I’m fucking staying here, you fucking imbeciles!” he yelled as the men towered over him. They stood guard at the door, blocking Rodolphus’ attempts at reentering the hotel where he and Dorcas were, in fact, supposed to be staying the weekend.

“Not anymore, buddy,” said the smaller of the two giant-like men who put Rodolphus’ muscular build to shame. Whether he went in through the front doors or apparated into the hotel room himself, Rodolphus was getting into the hotel and he now had a desire to break every bone in Dorcas' body which he knew she would absolutely love. “Cool down, man,” the taller one chimed in. “You and your girlfriend can find somewhere else to stay, unless you’d like us to call the police.”