Title: white blank page Rating: NC-17 Pairing: Regulus/Bellatrix/Lucius/Rodolphus/Rabastan/Barty/Severus/Peter, voyeur!Dark Lord Summary: Regulus is welcomed to the fold. Word count: 1852 Warning: Underage, rimming Disclaimer: Not mine. Prompt: orgy
Unbetaed, I apologize!
Regulus was spinning. Of that, he had been certain since the moment he had entered. He didn't really understand. The air was thick and heady with something that Regulus was certain was magic – but of what it was supposed to be doing, Regulus didn't know. All he had been told was that there were certain rituals that had to happen before he was initiated. He had complied, because there was nothing else for him to do but lesson.
He was on his knees in the middle of a stone room, which was far too hot. There were fires in every corner of the room, flickering and casting shadows onto the ceiling. The smoke made his head feel heavy.
He had been surrounded, in the beginning, by a circle of Death Eaters, all in dark cloaks and silver glinting masks made red by the fire. The circle had broken though when one of the Death Eaters had moved forward, twining their way against him. Regulus had instantly known that it was Bellatrix – not because of the familiar way that she pressed against him, but because of the slice of a smile he had caught when she had lifted her mask up just far enough for him to see. Her mouth seared against his; there were too many teeth, biting into his lower lip as she opened him up.
He could taste promise in her mouth.
Bellatrix rocked into his lap, pressing him closer to the ground. He nearly lost balance for a moment, but a pair of clever hands caught him. They were right underneath his ribs, pressing in so tightly that they never hurt.
It took only a quite glance to recognize them as Barty's; he knew they way the shook, knew the dashes of scars that crisscrossed the backs of them. Barty's hands slid down along his frame, finding the thin expanse of his wrists. He pulled them backwards, so that Regulus felt another wave of dizziness. He found himself further opened to Bellatrix, who was stroking at his face with the pull of her nails. Barty had his hands in one and he could feel something cold and unforgiving twisting them together.
Regulus had no time to wonder exactly what it was, because there were a pair of figures, stepping in closer to them once more. Regulus looked up blearily; one of them was Rabastan, his mask already off. His mouth was twisted into a cheeky little smile. Beside him was a figure so similar in size and build that, despite the mask, Regulus knew it had to be Rodolphus.
Rabastan dropped to his knees beside Regulus, easily stealing his mouth from Bellatrix, who let out a little huff of high-pitched laughter. Rodolphus' face floated peripherally into the line of his vision; he was behind Bellatrix, his long, fingers playing into the dark hair at the nape of her neck as he pressed his mouth against the lily-white expanse of her neck.
Rabastan began to undo the buttons of Regulus' robes even as he thrust his tongue hungrily, sloppily into his mouth. Behind him, Barty was continuing to tie his arms together, another string of bindings finding their way about his elbows. Then, Barty's fingers were tracing their way up his spine, counting knob after knob as if he could contain and control every facet of Regulus' body.
Rabastan had his robes pushed to his elbows in mere seconds. The fabric only added another layer of binding; Regulus couldn't bring himself to care. He was pushing himself forward into Rabastan's kiss; Barty was holding him back the best he could and with every rock of his body, he sent Bellatrix careening further against Rodolphus.
Before Regulus could piece together what was happening, Bellatrix had slipped out of his lap. Barty pushed him forward and he found himself splayed on top of Rabastan. His cock was digging into Rabastan's hip and he moaned throatily, unable to reposition himself at all. It didn't seem to matter at all. Rabastan grabbed him by the hips and ground forward against him. He slid his hands forward and thumbed open the pants that Regulus was wearing. Barty finished the job that Rabastan started; his deft fingers hooked into the waistband and brought it down about Regulus' ankles.
Rabastan's hands reclaimed their possessive hold on his hips, effectively stilling him. Regulus let out a mumbled noise of complaint, but Rabastan scraped his teeth along his jaw, silencing him for the moment. Seconds later he could Barty's hands on his body again; his fingers were deftly spreading Regulus' arse open so that his tongue could probe at the puckered entrance. Regulus cried out into Rabastan's shoulder this time, surprised by the sudden sensation.
He couldn't keep still. Rabastan claimed his mouth again but he found that he couldn't even begin to kiss properly at all. Barty's tongue was delving inside of him, repeatedly thrusting inside of him, making him thrust blindly up against Rabastan. There were nails scraping over his scalp, twining his hair – he thought that they might have been Bella's, but he had no idea anymore.
The voice was too close to them, practically hissed in between their mouths, but Regulus couldn't place it for the life of him. All he was aware of was the Barty slipped out of him and pulled him back as Rabastan pulled away. Another body slid close to him; the mask was still on and Regulus didn't pretend to know who it was. The Death Eater slid his hand into Regulus' hair, his fingers briefly tangling with Bella's as he guided Regulus down to where his pants were already open.
Regulus ran his nose against the incredibly pale spattering of hair that led down the man's stomach before wrapping his lips around his thick cock. He sucked the best he could, the angle all wrong; Regulus was subject to the jerk of Lucius' hips. He couldn't pull himself back or away, not with how elbows were tied behind his back. He kept feeling as if he was going to choke.
Bellatrix leaned in close again. She kissed his cheek gently, her mouth pressing small kisses all along his skin. One of her hands moved down to rake along his bare chest.
“That's my boy,” she said softly, her voice full of praise.
“Severus,” a cruel voice rang out. Everything seemed to slow down for a moment. Regulus lifted his eyes to where the Dark Lord was standing in one corner of the room, seeming far too close to the fire there. Regulus could feel his spine straighten as he became aware of those red eyes on him, as if they were seeing through him entirely. He felt flushed; he could feel the sweat beading and rolling down his back.
“You had best welcome our newest guest, Severus,” the Dark Lord instructed. He was looking solely at Regulus, but Regulus peripherally became aware of the two Death Eaters that were still standing stiffly at their places in the circle. After a moment, one of the pair broke away. Instantly, he began to undress, removing first the mark before stripping down the Death Eater robes. Regulus watched Severus move as long as he could, before his attention was recaptured by a particularly violent snap of Lucius' hips.
Regulus began to suck more adamantly, his head bobbing up and down even though he was certain that any moment he might tip forward entirely into Lucius' lap. However, a pair of hands – quite clearly Severus' – found the rings of bruises that Rabastan had already left on his hips. Severus' hands were far more tentative than Rabastan's had been and his grasp was minimal at best.
He didn't touch Regulus in any other way. He didn't lean or say anything, simply pushed inside of Regulus in a steady and even thrust. Regulus groaned, the sound muffled, uneven. Lucius' hand tightened in his hair and pushed his head down further. Regulus could barely breathe. Between the smoke and the heat of the room and the lack of oxygen, his head was beginning to spin dangerously; he could barely even feel Severus' hand on his body anymore.
Just when he was certain he couldn't take anymore, Lucius pulled out and came messily, spurting ropes of come over his face and mouth. Regulus let out a gasping breath. Lucius let go of him. He almost crashed against the ground, but one of Severus' hand shifted. He caught Regulus around the middle with his arm and pulled him back so that he was now seated in Severus' lap. He half looked back at the other, but Rabastan caught his chin firmly in one hand. Holding him in place, he and Barty leaned back in and begin to lick the come off of Regulus' face, their tongues briefly intertwining.
Regulus knew that he was staring at them, but he was suddenly reeling from being able to breathe again. He was all too aware of everything. He was too aware of the way that Severus was driving up into him, pushing out uneven pants of breath; he was aware of the way that Rodolphus hadn't removed his mask, but Regulus could still hear his heavy breathing and the brush of fabric as he slipped his fingers inside of Bellatrix's robes. Regulus could feel her gaze –
“Pettigrew,” The Dark Lord had moved. He was far closer now, a mere feet away. “Let it not be forgotten that you still have to prove yourself as well.” His voice was snide, cruel as he spoke. “Because, regardless of what this boy has to prove – and make no mistake that he is a boy – he will always be better than you by mere virtue of his birth.”
Regulus could hear Rabastan snicker a little, but he was coming apart systemically; he wasn't even sure if Severus' breathing had changed in the slightest, but the head of his cock was lining up perfectly, making heat sear through Regulus' entire body. It took him a moment to even realize that a mouth was wrapped around his cock. He whimpered, his hips arching up as he looked down – startled to see someone he only vaguely remembered; wasn't he Sirius'-?
Whatever the thought had been was immediately erased from his mind. It didn't matter that the blow job was sloppy, too much wetness and nothing that Regulus really craved; Severus came inside of him a moment later, and finally, he let out the smallest of groans, his hands tightening about Regulus. Regulus let out a hoarse shout and spilled himself down Pettigrew's throat, his hips spasming forward.
When he became aware of himself again, he was splayed on the cool floor. His arms had been unbound. Red rings traced his pale skin, but the Dark Lord was holding his left arm. Regulus stared up at him, his head feeling more clear than it had in hours as the Dark Lord pressed the tip of his wand into the already raw flesh.