Bitemarks and Bloodstains | Rodolphus [M]

Rod had told Joram that he would need a few more drinks before he got all teary and confessional, and apparently he had. He wasn't totally pissed, but he was getting there; there was a noticeable stagger in his step as he and Joram skulked through Knockturn Alley. He was also tipsy enough to not question Joram when they seemed to melt into the shadows of the alley and appear in the Hogwarts basement. It couldn't have been apparition as that was impossible in the school, but it appeared to be similar. The Slytherin made a mental note to ask Joram later. If he even remembered, of course.

Stumbling into the Slytherin common room with a silly grin on his face, Rod leaned on Joram for support. There was a small croak then, and Rod turned to see someone's pet toad sitting on one of the leather couches, lounging about. Rod pointed at the small amphibean, an accusatory expression on his face. "What? You want to have a go, eh? Think you're the big man around here?" Letting go of Joram, Rod strode toward the toad, and tossed his scarf on it, covering it completely. "Yeah. S'what I thought." Returning to the support of Joram's shoulders, Rod leaned on him until they reached the dormitory.

He slumped onto his bed and Rod immediately began removing his jacket and shoes. Wiggling his toes for a moment, Rod stretched, sighed, and leaned back into his throng of pillows. He watched as Joram flopped down on the other side, looking up at him upside down. Rod grinned and then took the bottle he offered him with a grateful nod. Taking a long drink straight from the bottle, Rod swallowed, and sighed deeply with relief. Joram was right. Far superior to Firewhisky. Too bad local pubs wouldn't supply it. After taking another swig, he handed it back to Joram, feeling himself sink deeper into his drunken daze. His body felt warm and comfortable, tingly with the alcohol that was coarsing through him. It had been a while since he'd gotten sloshed and it felt terribly good.

Rod looked down at Joram's violent eyes, smiling a goofy smile that wasn't typically seen on him. "You have your mother's eyes, don't you? They're quite beautiful... like... like... purple pumpkins. So lovely." His expression grew a little more serious then, his smile fading. The past few days had been a bit hard on him as he'd alluded earlier in Knockturn Alley. Admittedly, they were rich, white boy problems. That didn't make them any less important to Rod, however. He could just about kill Bellatrix and that stupid git of a brother of his. Not even booze could wipe away that loathing of his.

Rod was in a daze, that much was sure. He really couldn't remember the last time he'd been this platered. Oh, right. Last week. He'd been out in Hogsmeade, after hours naturally, with a pretty little blonde thing. The two of them had drunken themselves into oblivion, to the point that the barkeep had them kicked out. They'd slept in a dark alleyway, completely without shame. When morning came, realizing the were beyond late to classes, they'd made a dash for it, and in the end, faced the wrath of Gryffindor Head Professor McGonagall. That was something Rod would hope to not relive, thank you very much. That woman was like Cerberus but with better hygience. And a tougher bite.

Yes, that booze had done it's magic. Literally. Rod felt as if he were floating, nothing beneath him. Looking up, he swore he could see the night sky above him. "I'm seeing stars..." he murmured softly. Too bad he couldn't name any of them; he was always falling asleep or passing notes of an inappropriate nature to Averie White. Stars were just a bunch of sparkly dots in the sky. What was fascinating about that? Nothing in Rod's completely unambitious, unacademic opinion. Things happening on Earth right in front of him were far more interesting. The present was what mattered. And what was happening with him and Joram, squeezed together on his four poster bed was proving to be very interesting.

At the sound of Joram's voice, Rod nodded slowly. Though he seemed collected at this moment, Rod was far from sober. He was struggling to remember what had been bothering him earlier. What was it? He furrowed his brow, his thick eyebrows knitting together in thought. Oh, right. "Bellatrix is mean," Rod pouted, sounding for a moment like the child he used to be. He heaved an exasperated sigh and threw his head back in annoyance. "By some conspiracy of the universe, that bitch has forced me into being her escort for the ball. I could..." he searched for the words, I could kill myself." It would be a nightmare, accompanying her to an event that he'd actually been looking forward. Rod wasn't one for ballroom dancing or anything, but formals were the perfect opportunity to take advantage of starry-eyed girls with daydreams of meeting Prince Charming. Now all his fun had been spoiled.

"Joram, Joram..." Rod breathed, rolling his eyes. "You know I hate it when you speak Italian. I'm sure the birds you shag just find it absolutely darling and sexy, but I hate not knowing what you're saying." Hardly lucid, Rod didn't think much of it when Joram ran his hand briefly across his jawline. Reaching for the bottle, he drank the last of it, savoring it deeply as it slid down his throat.

"Balls!" Rodolphus declared a little too loudly. "I'm not going to waste my breath talking about that-- that cow. Moo." Turning over slightly so he could better see Joram, Rod rolled his eyes again. That was another thorn in his side, his brother Rabastan. He nodded in agreement with Joram. "He is stupid, isn't he? As stupid as a toadstool. That sounds like my baby brother, actin' like he's some king of men now that he has a lady on his arm. She was mine once, ya know. And if you think his idiotic rules are going to keep me from having her again then you can go fall into a rose bush. Leave the booze though, please."

Rod shrugged, though laughed a little with Joram. "Women... they're only good for one thing. Might as well put them in a bag and tie it shut till you need them. They talk too damn much, as it is. Always wantin' you to buy them chocolates, and shoes, and whatever. You're probably the only constant person in my life. Even my moron brother is a nuisance."

Reaching for the fresh bottle of Grappa, a ludicrous grin was glued to his face. "My darling, how I missed you." After Joram took a drink, Rod followed suit, practically downing half the bottle. Honestly, the last thing he needed right now was alcohol. But the sloshed Slytherin was far past caring about decency or propriety. Then again, when did Rod ever care about those things? Eyeing Joram with a grin, Rod nodded, raising the bottle in a sort of toast. "Yes! Here's to you and your fine drinks. I love you and the services you provide." A sober Rod would never have said such a thing. Love was a foreign concept to him, but words hardly meant a thing to drunken Rod.

Rod lifted his head slightly when Joram stood to take off his shirt. It was a bit warm in there, wan't it? Or was that just Rod? With Joram's shirt gone, Rod's eyes lingered on him a little longer than they should have. If he was a religious man he would have felt the need to go to confession after a look like that. Rod blinked, growing silent. An unfamiliar feeling had slithered its way into the pit of his stomach, crawling up to his chest, catching in his throat. He found he couldn't speak.

"I just--" Rod paused, jaw clenched. "I don't know how she could choose that boy over me. Rod spat a cruel laugh, shaking his head. "You know, he actually came to me for advice? Wanted to know how to show his little girlfriend a good time. He actually needed help! I can't believe we're related. A Lestrange who doesn't know how to put his affairs in order? Madness. I hope that toad doesn't come back with some friends. I'd hate to cause a scene..." Rod leaned back, half-closing his eyes. His body was beginning to feel like lead, heavy and cumbersome. That earlier feeling of floating had been nice but fleeting. He felt as if he were an anchor slipping deep into a dark, unfamiliar ocean.

His heart began to pound a little harder, becoming an all-consuming drum in his ears. He watched as Joram struggled for balance, falling over Rod's legs. He nodded slowly in agreement. Indeed, everything was spinning for Rodolphus. Sitting up slightly, Rod undid a few buttons on his shirt, but did not move to take it off. He could feel the heat rising all over, making his feel as if were on fire. He was a bit lost for thoughts then, not entirely sure of what was happening around him. Or what was going to happen, either.

Rodolphus prided himself on being a pure, lustful animal. While his classmates were all hiding their desires underneath the covers of their beds, he was out there pursuing them. Whatever carnal pleasure he craved, he got it. He didn't ask questions, didn't doubt himself, didn't hesitate. He was unbidden, a creature of want and need, and he didn't think he could be anything else. That was why, when Joram took off his shirt, bare-chested, and hovering awkwardly above Rod's legs that Rod reacted the way he did. Advance, never retreat he always said, after all.

Why not? he thought to himself. Just tonight.

Grabbing a fistful of Joram's long, scraggly hair, Rod pulled him down on top of him and kissed him hard on the lips, forcing his warm tongue against the other boy's. And he wasn't thinking about Integra when he did so.

This was all certainly unexpected, but Rodolphus lived for the unexpected. It was practically his own personal mantra to fly in the face of caution, or normalcy, or practicality. He lived purely for his senses and nothing else. Rod wasn't even thinking about what would happen the day after or the day after that. He didn't care about what this all meant or what people might say or think if they ever found out. All he knew was that, for whatever reason, he desperately wanted the shirtless boy in front of him. He could hardly fathom as to why he hadn't noticed him before.

Truthfully, Rod had never loved a god damned thing in his life. Except himself, of course. A complete narcissus, every woman he'd ever slept with had been purely for the sake of his own inflated ego. They were all trophies he kept locked away in the back of his mind, sweet memories he re-visited again and again. Rod had always been this way. There really was no explanation for the way he chose to love - or not love, rather. Rod had never thought he'd ever fall in love, either, at least, not in the way other people did. As he ran his hands through Joram's hair, he was beginning to feel an unfamiliar grandeur of... something. Something he'd never felt before.

Ever the animal, Rod grabbed Joram by the shoulders and forced him over so that he was above him. Briefly, he pulled back, hastily undoing the last few remaining buttons of his shirt. An athlete, Rod was perhaps overly obsessed with caring for his body and its appearance. He was constantly exercising and thinking of ways to make himself look better than he already did. In the light of his bedroom, however, Rod was Grecian perfection. Marble statue-worthy. In a quick motion, he tossed the shirt to the floor, returning to Joram's lips and the heat they gave him. His entire body felt like it was on fire, completely consumed by the rush Joram was giving him.

His heart was pounding in his chest, a ceaseless drum. Pressing himself closer to Joram, his lips traveled from the boy's mouth to his earlobe. He licked and bit it fiercely, uninhibited. "I want you," he half-moaned, half-whispered in Joram's ear. He could feel how much Joram wanted him too, but he could tell the Hufflepuff boy was holding back. Why, he had no idea. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked breathlessly. Please, don't make me stop. he pleaded inwardly, having never felt so liberated in his entire life. Even if Joram said yes, Rodolphus wasn't sure he could.

When had all this happened? One moment Rod had been completely pissed-drunk on his bed, moaning about Integra, cursing Bellatrix, wishing to forget his brother. Now they were all a thousand miles away, indistinct blurs of forgotten cares. He and Joram had been perfectly platonic at and the pub and on his bed, simply drinking booze to their heart's content. All these years of knowing one another, Rod buying drinks and other delights from Joram, partying with him, nothing romantic had ever transpired between them. Nothing was new. Nothing had changed. Except everything. Rodolphus and Joram were walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, but he didn't much care.

Kissing Joram, Rod felt as if he had strayed into a dream, the kind of dream that feels so warm and intoxicating you can hardly stand it, but is long forgotten when you wake up. He prayed this wouldn't end, however. He wanted to remember every touch, every sound, every breath and every word spoken long after it was gone, long after it was said. Rod had never experienced a moment like this that was just so electric. So passionate. Everything seemed striking and clear, like he were seeing everything in a new light. How could he have been so blind?

Rod pulled back for a moment, and took Joram's hand. An unromantic, however, Rod took two of Joram's fingers and slowly put them in his mouth, sucking on his soft skin and gently dragging his tongue across the bottom. He savored the taste of Joram, closing his eyes in euphoria. Pulling back, Joram's fingers fell from his mouth, but Rod wasn't done. Smirking he shoved one of his own fingers into Joram's mouth, breathing a sigh of relief. He drew his face to Joram's next, kissing the slope of his neck, breathing in the scent of him. Musk and booze. How wonderful.

The Slyltherin couldn't have been more relieved to hear Joram's reply. He had half-feared that the Hufflepuff would come to lucidity and tell him to stop, tell him they were making a mistake. But that was the last thing he wanted to hear. His mind was telling him that they were making a serious error, but his heart (yes, he had one) and body were telling him the complete opposite.

It was then that Joram flashed him his fangs and with startled clarity understood what he meant. He staggered briefly, wondering why he could have gone this long without knowing something so... intrinsic. But then that smile of his appeared across his face, and with a nod, wordlessly urged Joram on. The Hufflepuff boy knew was it was Rod wanted from him. He felt Joram grasp the edge of his chin, tilting his head back. For once, Rod gladly complied, feeling his heart race in anticipation. What happened then was beyond description, beyond anything Rod had ever experienced. And he had experienced a lot of things, mind you. He relished the rough sting as Joram dragged his nails across his back, sending chills up and down his spine. Nothing had ever felt this incredible.

Tangled legs. Heavy breaths. Satisfied moans and feverish kisses. Everything around Rodolphus was a hazy sea of heat, and sweat, and passion. It was beyond compare. He wondered, how long had Joram felt this way about him? Was it as spur-of-the-moment as it had been for Rod? If Joram had felt romantic feelings toward Rod he'd never given any indication, at least not as far as Rod could see. Then again, he was near-sighted. Rod didn't care though. All that mattered was that it had happened, rather than burying their feelings in dark, faraway places. In the back of his mind, he could see the face of Bellatrix Black if she ever found out. Part of him, the sadistic, depraved side wanted her to know every shocking detail. But the other part, the secretive, passionate part, wanted to keep this between him and Joram forever.

Honestly, Rod could scarcely believe that he hadn't been with a vampire until now. It seemed so clear now how... all-consuming this was. Having Joram's mouth on his throat, his fangs deep into his veins, was the most exhilarating thing he'd ever experienced. It was no surprise though. Rod fed off the near-danger of the situation, high on the possibility of fatality, excessive blood loss, bruises. He wasn't a masochist, by any means, but danger and high-risk situations always gave him an adrenaline-rush he couldn't get most anywhere else. Mostly. Tilting his head back down, Rod pressed his lips to Joram's collarbone, emitting a low growl. "I hope you don't do that with just anyone," he murmured softly.

A thrill passed through Rod as Joram undid the buckle of his pants and began tugging them down. Rod finished for them, awkwardly flinging them off in his drunken state. He did the same to Joram, resting the palm of his hand on Joram's thigh. At Joram's words, a smirk appeared on Rod's face. Forefully, he grabbed Joram's hands and so that they were behind his head, Rod's own hands holding him hard hard. He leaned in close and whispered, "You do know who you're speaking to, right? If anything," he pressed his lips to Joram's throat, letting his tongue briefly touch the skin. Then he pulled away, as if teasingly. "You should be the one who's nervous."

Slowly, Rod kissed Joram's neck, down to his chest, then his stomach. He normally wasn't so... gentle. But he took a moment to savor everything, make this moment last as long as it possibly could. He knew it would have to end eventually, as everything did. But that was no reason not to enjoy it.