HP: The Magical Gamer [Chapter 136: Free! ] (Patreon)

It had been weeks since he had sex with her. He was filled with unbridled lust. And at the moment all his mind could think of was her, of her divine womanly body.

He meandered slowly towards his half-soul and found her asleep. Her bare curvy chest rising and falling gently, the big round breasts glistening from the light.

Her silky black hair was strewn around her neck and shoulders, framing her aristocratic face. His gaze followed down her stomach and to the unhidden hairless womanhood.

His mouth watered at the sight of his wife's godly physique.

He was blessed. He really was. He blamed Chaos for many things, but not for creating a female body for his half-soul.

He silently climbed on the bed and lay on his side, facing her.

He breathed in her scent and scooted closer, placing his hand on her flat stomach.

"What are you doing, Tom?" Her impassive voice interrupted him.

She turned to her side and faced him, her visage blank and emotionless.

Voldemort stiffened for a second, like a child getting caught stealing a cookie, before getting his panic under control.

He dragged his hand up her taut body, cupping her voluptuous tit and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I came to apologise, but your beauty hypnotised me and pulled me beside you."

Her eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Are you trying to butter me up?"

He laughed, an ordinarily soft sound which would have bamboozled his past victims who have only been exposed to his cold sadistic cackle.

"No. Seeing you naked really hypnotised me. Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" He asked, circling his thumb around her erect nipple, on her pink puffed up areola, causing a warm dampness to grow in her nether region.

"Sometimes." She whispered throatily before sitting up. Voldemort feared that he was going to get blue-balled by his angry wife. But unexpectedly, she roughly pushed him down on his back and pulled down his trousers, his cock springing excitedly out of its confines.

She gave his fleshy tower a couple of pumps, her fingers curling around the base.

Voldemort moaned, clutching the bedsheets on his sides.

His eyes widened when she kneeled above him, her pretty black hair falling around her face like a curtain. Her breasts hanging tantalisingly in front of his eyes as she positioned herself over his thrumming excitement.

Voldemort closed his eyes and hissed in pleasure when his wife's tight body enveloped his cock. He placed his arms around her as they joined together like they used to back in happy days.

The heat of her insides, the wetness of her tunnel, the tightness of her cunt was familiar and nostalgic. He had missed this. He had missed it so much.

He exhaled, clasping her rear firmly within his fingers' grasp as they began their well-practised dance. Her slow languid movement was painfully pleasurable. Her pussy swallowing and clenching around him.

After the acute absence of their regular intimate acts, all he wanted to do now was rut into her like a starved beast. But he knew it would be counterproductive and might offend her. At the moment, he decided he should let her take control instead of treating her like a sex commodity.

As if knowing his mind and sensing his need, she increased the pace steadily until she was bouncing on his cock with loud pleased screams. Voldemort had his eyes fully open as her breasts swayed over his eyes and her scent filled his nose.

Wanting to feel both her arse and tits at the same time, he used his one hand to grab her bubbly rump and the other to latch onto her boob.

"YES… YES… YES." His wife screamed in ecstasy which brought a prideful smile to his face. The smile only grew at the sudden sensation of her wet passage.

She came.

Her movement became sluggish after that, and she slumped over him, burying his face under her perky breasts.

He wasn't complaining about being stuffed by her chest, but he also needed his completion. He coiled his arms around her waist and began thrusting into her with rough-fast movement. He moved excitedly under her, his dick shoving in and out of her honeypot.

She groaned a little, shifting here and there, her hand slipping under the pillow beside him.

Voldemort was in paradise as he felt the pleasure reaching a crescendo, the loud sound of their slapping hips filling the room, her incoherent moaning inciting only more lust into him. He closed his eyes, engulfing her nipple and lightly biting her breast.

"I am comin–"

That was the last thing the Dark Lord ever mumbled since right at that moment, she took out the knife from the pillow and carved a deep smile on his neck.

Voldemort gurgled, blood pouring out of his sliced neck in abundance. He trembled violently, spasming in his death throes as he tried to move away from her, to stop the fatal bleeding from his neck.

Alas, he was buried underneath, with her chest squashed on his face and his hands shaking around her waist.

Brimming with pain and pleasure, he shot his last load deep inside her before dying with a betrayed look in his eyes.

Feeling him stilling finally, she toppled beside him and sat up.

She scrunched her nose in disgust at all the blood that was smeared over her torso.

She glanced down at him.

Bulging eyes, mouth wide open and filled with red blood. His neck sported a deep cut from one ear to the other and the crimson liquid still bubbled out of the fleshy crevice.

"I am finally free."

That was how the strongest mage of the era died, quivering in pain and pleasure as he was betrayed by his closest confidant. And this time he didn't have the horcruxes to fall back onto. Death finally had him within its inescapable grasp.