Hello ! I'm also kallistob on AO3, but I decided to upload at least this fic here. If there is a response, I might upload the rest of my fics on as well. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy reading this. Please be aware - this is not a happy fic. It's a painful train ride, and there is graphic depictions of violence, as well as mentions of rape and then, of course, the whole betrayal.
Enjoy and tell me what you think !
The insignia feels foreign when he takes it between his hands and holds it up in front of his face, inspecting it. Housing Authority Police, the gold engraving reads, and right below it: Detective in all caps. The badge is slightly dusty and Graves takes a tissue to wipe the surface before he finally admits to himself that he's stalling and shakes his head.
He pins the insignia over his waistcoat; it gleams in the light of the bathroom, and Graves remembers the day when he first received it and he saw himself wearing it. He felt proud, back then; incredibly happy. His colleagues threw a party to congratulate him on officially becoming detective, and Graves had laughed and drank himself silly before starting to work on cases the next Monday.
The only thing he feels right now is a curl of dread in his stomach, threatening to choke him any minute, and he braces his hands on the sink and closes his eyes.
"My name is Percival Graves," he says firmly. "I'm 42, I'm a detective residing in New York City and there are bad guys to catch. That's my job." The mantra works and he is able to breathe a little easier, somewhat.
Graves grabs the pomade in the cupboard and dips his fingers into it, smoothing his hair back into his usual neat style and grimacing at the amount of grey he sees on the sides. "Old man."
He takes his coffee black and bitter in the kitchen and grabs a piece of toast. He doesn't feel the taste as he nibbles on it, the anxiety returning once again, and he finds he has difficulty swallowing. God, this is becoming ridiculous. He's been working on dull paperwork for over two months. He should be more than ready to go back to the field. There are no chances that what happened last time will happen again.
But he wasn't captured, his mind whispers, and Graves shuts it down.
"Shut up," he says out loud.
"Percy? Who are you talking to?"
Newt just entered the room, half asleep, clad in nothing but his boxers and a much too large shirt that slips over one shoulder, revealing pale, freckled skin beneath. Graves swallows and looks away.
"Myself," Graves admits. "Slept well?"
"Yeah." Then Newt takes in his appearance, the suitcase on the table next to his gun, and frowns. "You're taking back cases?"
"Yes, Newt, I told you last night. It's - more than overdue. I'll be back in a couple of days if everything goes well."
Newt worries his bottom lip between his teeth, not looking at Graves. "Will you be alright? Do you need me to call you?"
"I - I don't know," Graves says honestly. He sees his hands are shaking slightly and clenches his fists. "But - I should be. And - I - I'll have a surprise for you when I come back," Graves tries, going for a mysterious effect but only managing to sound slightly strained.
"Oh?" Newt sounds strange. He turns away from Graves and puts the kettle on to make his usual morning tea.
"There's hot water in the thermos," Graves informs him, "And yes. You'll see."
"Alright." Newt smiles, Graves' favorite laugh lines appearing in the corner of his eyes. He wishes he could kiss them, could kiss Newt like he used to.
Soon. If the mission succeeds. Soon I'll be able to touch you.
"Well," Newt says, taking his favorite honeyed cereal from the cupboard and dropping some in a bowl. Graves wrinkles his nose. A disgusting brand of cereal, honestly, but Newt insists upon buying it. "I'll see you in a couple of days, then?"
"You'll like them," he says in a rush, "I promise, Percy, they're so good! Besides, they'll feed you more than the half toast I find on the counter every morning."
Graves shakes his head, looking down at the shopping list in his hand. "I told you already, I don't like honey. And the toast is just fine."
"You need to eat better than that, love," Newt says. "What will I do if you starve to death?"
Graves rolls his eyes before grabbing Newt's coat and pulling Newt flush against him, ignoring his squeak of protest. "Force feed me back to life like one of your animals, I'm sure," he murmurs against Newt's ear before kissing his forehead. Newt blushes. "Come on. We still have the vegetables to buy, and I need new shoes afterwards."
Newt runs after him, catching up with Graves' long, confident strides. "Wait! Don't you already have like 30 pair of shoes, Mr. I have-money-and-I-know-it?"
Graves sniffs. "Barely. Only 10."
"Oh, my apologies, milord."
Graves makes a move as if to whack Newt's arm and Newt avoids him, sticking his tongue out at Graves in a totally immature and adorable gesture. Graves feels himself melt and Newt smiles softly.
"Alright," he says. "Groceries, then shoes. Then we can go home."
"Home," Graves agrees.
Their home.
"You will," Graves confirms. He shakes himself out of his contemplation and looks at the clock on the mantle - he'll be late for his train. "I gotta go."
Newt waves at him, mouth full of cereal.
In the hallway, Graves quickly places his gun in his holster, a solid, reassuring weight against his thigh and grabs his coat. The length of it hides the gun from view and gives Graves a more impressive look, which can be really helpful when you're dealing with criminals. It will work in his favor; at least he can make a good first impression back on the job. People don't need to know a part of him only wants to turn back and run in the opposite direction. It doesn't fit with the image they have - had - of him.
He's ready. There's only one thing left to do - Graves runs back to the kitchen, heart beating fast.
But the kitchen is empty when he arrives, and Graves swallows his disappointment. Distantly, he hears the sound of the shower running.
He really should go.
Newt's phone pings on the kitchen table and Graves curiously looks at the message that appeared on screen, unable to help himself.
from : Credence Barebone
Sounds great! Do you want to go to the cinema?
Graves smiles. At least Newt will be having fun while he's away. Graves is aware that he hasn't been the most - cheerful of partners the past couple of months, but he's ready to fix that.
When he gets back from the mission. He'll fix everything.
"Newt!" He calls. "Leaving!"
"'Kay!" Newt's muffled voice replies over the sound of the hair dryer. "Be careful!"
"Yes, Mummy," Graves mutters to himself, smile on his lips. Newt still worries about him. Maybe everything's not lost.
He is greeted by familiar faces at the NPD police. They're all glad he's back, and Abernathy gives him a brief over the situation before telling him where to go and handing him the keys to one of their cars.
Graves nods and leaves New York.
On the way he prays to a God he doesn't believe in that everything please goes well. So much rests on the way this mission will turn out. His relationship, his job, his fucking sanity. He can do this. He knows he can.
"Can't live in the past, need to move on, yada yada," he says aloud, repeating the words his first therapist had told him right after theincident. Graves laughs, short and sharp, and turns the radio up.
Anvil from Lorn comes on and Graves lets the electric sound lull him during his drive.
He did it.
Graves can hardly believe it.
Oh sure, he got a bit too close to the fire and his nose throbs, bloody from when the criminal slammed his head against a wall before dashing off and being intercepted by the police, but - he did it!
He solved the case! He found the missing link the officers in Philadelphia couldn't, and he solved the case. There won't be anymore people dying.
He feels elated.
Compared to his previous records, this case was easy - yet hard enough for Graves to get back into the game. The knot of fear in his stomach eased off as soon as he saw that the crimes didn't have any similar pattern to Grindelwald's work, and he was able to focus and get the job done in record time.
He could go home now.
Ease himself back into it. Catch the scum of New York on a daily basis and put them behind bars where they belonged, like he used to. Take control of his department once more. This was a test, and Graves passed it.
God, he can't wait to tell Newt. It's barely five in the afternoon on Thursday, and Graves knows he wasn't supposed to come home until Friday morning but the mission went so well - why wait any longer? He wants to give Newt his surprise. Newt will be happy. He's always been happy about Graves' successes, as has Graves been of his.
Newt throws himself at him as soon as Graves walks through the door, and he makes a little surprised sound, case dropping on the floor as he gathers Newt up in his arms.
"Newt? Love, what's wrong?"
Graves realizes Newt's crying, his shoulders shaking, and Graves is really worried now until Newt raises his head and smiles so brightly at him that Graves forgets to breathe for a moment.
"Judith is saved!"
"Wha- oh!" Graves' eyes widen as he understand. "The baby elephant?"
"Yes!" Newt is practically bouncing on his feet. His happiness is contagious and Graves feels himself smile. "You know, I didn't like the way her caregiver was treating her so I stepped in and took care of her despite my other duties -"
"You literally slept at the zoo," Graves says.
"And it was worth it!" Newt cries. "I got a call from them and she's out of danger now! I'll be back home at a normal time again. Oh my god, Percy, I'm so happy, I can't uuumf-"
Percival silences him with a kiss, deepening it when Newt's lips part in surprise. Newt responds immediately, clinging onto Graves' coat and Graves slowly drags his hands down until they're resting over Newt's hips, feeling his slim figure underneath the blue sweater he's wearing. Newt sucks gently on Graves' lower lip and Graves hums appreciatively before stepping forward, forcing Newt to back up until he's pressed against the wall of the hallway.
Their kisses turn heated. The new position allows Graves to press his body against Newt's, cage him in entirely, and he slips a thigh between Newt's parted legs to rub against his crotch. Newt pants in his mouth as he starts slowly rolling his hips against Graves' thigh to relieve some of the pressure building within him.
"I think," Graves says, lowering his voice to a tone he knows will drive Newt mad, "That we should properly celebrate this victory in the bedroom."
"Kiss me," Newt says breathlessly in reply, and Graves laughs.
"Yes, Sir."
Graves turns the key in the lock, silently entering his apartment. He takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat-rack, dropping his case on the floor and getting rid of his gun holster a second later. He hears music from his and Newt's bedroom, and he imagines Newt must be sitting on their bed and drawing, as he sometimes does. Graves passes a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it back. He sees the bathroom and decides to brush his teeth and, thinking that this is as good as he's going to look, remembers his accomplishment, imagines Newt's surprise and pride, and walks towards their bedroom confidently for the first time in months, feeling a bit more like his older self.
The music is loud, and it's not something he has ever heard Newt listen to - he thinks it's hard rock or metal, given the screaming - and as he steps closer he hears another sound, this one familiar to him. A moan. Graves' heart beats faster. Is Newt touching himself? That's a bit too early for him, really, but it doesn't mean he won't enjoy the sight - he feels ready to. His mind imagines Newt's squeal of surprise, his flushed, mortified face; the Graves in his head is confident, able to give Newt what he needs as he crawls onto the bed to join his lover. The image does not make him fearful, and Graves feels genuinely happy and normal -
Until he opens the door and sees them.
His smile vanishes.
The only thing he can hear is his heartbeat, loud in his ears, and Newt's strangled moan of oh, fuck, Credence until he opens his eyes through the haze of pleasure and sees Graves standing in the doorway.
The surprise, shock and horror on Newt's face would be almost comical if it wasn't disgusting.
He should have seen it coming.
He really should have seen it coming.
Doesn't mean it doesn't fucking hurts.
Graves sags against the wall, unable to keep himself upright on his own. He hears movements around him, his face blank as Newt quickly makes himself decent again and throws Credence a shirt. The other man is mortified, looking on the verge of tears, and Graves doesn't feel an ounce of compassion for him.
Credence leaves the room in a rush. Seconds later Graves hears the front door slam shut, and he stands up straight and looks at Newt. Newt is avoiding his gaze, and Graves can't bear it.
"Look at me."
Newt looks everywhere, the wall, the floor, his hands, over Graves' shoulders, anywhere but at him.
Graves steps closer and Newt flinches as if Graves was going to hit him, but Graves merely cradles his head between his hands in a parody of a loving gesture and rasps out, "How long?"
"Percival-"
"Shut up," he growls. "I'm the one asking the fucking questions here, Newt, given that I just surprised you in my flat, in my own bedroom, doing the horizontal tango with your best friend who is not me."
"So I'll ask again," He says, taking a deep breath. "How. Fucking. Long?"
"Over two months," Newt whispers, terrified, his hands grabbing Graves' and prying them away from him.
Graves closes his eyes. His hands find his face and his fingernails dig into his own skin as he screams into them. His vision blurs; betrayal, hurt, anger and incomprehension twisting inside him, settling their claws deep into his heart where he will never be able to forget them.
He doesn't know how long it lasts. After a while he is not screaming anymore but talking, letting what's running through his head at that moment out. "Fucking stupid. I'm so fucking stupid. I knew, I knew it - Why would you be any different?"
Unbidden, the ghost of a memory passes through his mind, and he feels himself choke on a sob.
They're lying in bed together, Newt's head against Graves' chest while Graves slowly cards his fingers through his hair. The silence is comfortable, and Graves starts dozing off slowly, his eyelids drooping as he concentrates on the soft lull of Newt's breathing, on his presence at his side, on how right this feels.
"What are you thinking about?" Newt asks quietly, running his fingers in soothing circles over Graves' skin. Every now and then he passes them through Graves' sparse chest hair, as if fascinated. Newt has an almost scientific approach to Graves' body and the way it reacts to sensations, sometimes abusing Graves' prostate and riling him up for a second orgasm just to see if he can bear it, and it never fails to make Graves smile - once he's managed to get over his shock and pleasure, that is.
"I'm thinking about how good I feel right now," Graves murmurs. New doesn't reply and Graves frowns. "What's wrong?"
"It's just - it's silly."
"I'm sure it's not," Graves says gently. "Tell me."
"It's just - I have this voice in my head. And it's mean, and it tells me that this is too good to last and you'll end up realizing what a weirdo I am and that you deserve so much better and leave me -"
"You are," Graves interrupts. "You're a weirdo. You talk way too much about your animals, you're socially awkward, never makes eye contact, cannot hold a conversation, doesn't know how to interact with people, sometimes does highly illegal things where anyone can see - like take me to the zoo through a secret entrance in the middle of the night for a first date - and," he says firmly, "I wouldn't trade you for the world."
"Really?" Newt says, voice small, and Graves pampers him with soft kisses until Newt is giggling.
"Really. My weirdo," he says fondly. "Besides, I have a voice like that too."
"You do? What does it say?"
"That you'll realize how damaged I am, how old, and that you'll leave me for someone younger and prettier."
"I would never!" Newt says, scandalized. "Besides, I like my men old and graying at the temples."
"You do?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Oh my God, Newt. No, please," Graves groans.
"Sorry," Newt turns his head and kisses Graves' lips apologetically. "I had to."
Graves tickles him in retaliation.
It's silly, they make a mess of the bed in minutes, and Graves has never felt happier in his life.
"Two months," Graves repeats, and his heart drops as he realizes. "Because I…?"
"I- Yes." Newt swallows. "It started - about one month after your return."
"Hello?"
"Mr. Scamander?"
"Yes?"
"Seraphina Picquery speaking."
Newt drops the bucket of meat he's holding in one hand, his heart suddenly racing.
"Is Percival…?" He asks immediately, throat tight.
"He's fine," she says over the phone, and Newt feels relief wash over him until she continues. "He's in the hospital. His last mission went - wrong." Newt can hear the flinch in her voice.
"I - how? It was supposed to be easy. He told me that." He urges.
"We underestimated our guy and Percival paid for it."
"With all due respect, Madam, you are scaring the fucking hell out of me," Newt says shakily, keeping his phone close to his ear while he runs to the entrance of the zoo, jacket in one hand.
"What happened to him? Which hospital is he staying at?"
"I sent you the address by text," she replies. "Room 301."
"What happened to him?!"
There's silence at the end of the line, then Seraphina says, "I think it's best if he tells you himself, Mr. Scamander," and hangs up.
Newt is left to stare at his now useless phone, cold dread filling his heart at her last words before he shakes himself out of it and calls a taxi over. The ride is way too long, Newt's fear rising as the minutes pass.
When the taxi drops him at his destination Newt grabs blindly at money in his wallet, probably giving the driver far too much for his services, but it's the least of his worries. He walks past faceless patients in blue nightgowns, men and women lying on stretchers and nurses and doctors, young and old people blurring in his mind. The thick, choking scent of sickness invades his nose and he runs faster. He slams his hand on the elevator button, frustrated when it doesn't immediately reply to the urgency he feels.
"301, 301, please be fucking okay, Percival, please -"
The elevator dings and Newt rushes inside. At least Percival isn't in ICU, thank God for small mercies. First floor, second floor, third - Newt's out in a heartbeat, turning his head left and right to find guidance and yes - there. Room 280 to 320.
He runs again and a nurse reprimands him so he resorts to walking very fast until he reaches the right door and stops. Hesitating. Prepared for the worst.
Steeling himself, Newt turns the doorknob and enters the room.
Percival is dozing when he sees him, dark eyelashes fluttering, a stark contrast to the paleness of his cheeks. His face twists into an uncomfortable grimace every now and then, and Newt can only imagine what pain Graves is going through. His eyes catch on Graves' throat and he makes a strangled sound of disbelief. "Oh my God."
Graves whimpers, as if hearing him, and Newt quickly looks him over, trying to see if there are any more noticeable injuries on his body. No casts or splints - no broken or sprained limbs, that's good.
Just the ugly, red and purple mark around his neck the girth of a rope. Newt feels himself tear up, shocked, and doesn't stop it, disbelieving fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Cautiously, he approaches Percival's prone form on the bed, his footsteps echoing in the sterile silence of the room. His hand hovers above Graves', Newt unsure of what to do - he wants Graves to be awake, he wants Graves to be able to talk to him, tell him where it hurts, tell him what's wrong so Newt can fix it - but Graves is silent and asleep and Newt resorts to taking Graves' hand in his, thumb rubbing soothing circles over his skin.
The effect is immediate, but not what Newt hoped for.
Instead of relaxing and sinking into the sheets, Graves' eyes fly open and he jerks his hand away from Newt in a violent gesture, throwing Newt off. Graves scrambles away from him as far as the bed allows, eyes open but unseeing, and Newt's heart breaks at seeing the man he loves in that state.
"P-Percival," Newt tries, lips trembling. "It's me. It's Newt. You- You're safe. I'm here, I'm-"
Newt makes a move to step closer again and Graves recoils. "No, please!"
"Percival," Newt says, at a loss. Graves is rocking in on himself, every muscle in his body taut, ready to snap. He lowers his voice, makes it softer, as if talking to a hurt animal. "Can I come over? Please?"
He raises both hands so Percival can see them, can see Newt means him no harm. Graves eyes him warily before a flicker of recognition passes in his eyes and he seems to realize it's Newt he has in front of him, not someone else. His defenses drop.
Newt watches, helpless, as Graves' whole body quivers, a tremor wracking him from head to toe and he starts to sob, great, loud cries and Newt wants to come closer and cradle Graves against his chest and tell him everything will be okay but he doesn't know if he's allowed.
When Percival starts hyperventilating Newt presses the button at his bedside to call the nurse and they come a few minutes later, shooing him out of the room and slamming the door in his face as they do what they need to do, accompanying Graves through his panic attack and calming him down.
Newt stares at the white door with the numbers 301 edged on it and feels small, away from the agitation, away from Percival, as if Graves and him stood on either ends of a bridge and Newt could feel it slowly ebbing away.
But he refuses to let that happen.
He won't.
"You never told me," Newt cries. "Never. Not a word. I had to pick up your - your ghost at that hospital, and you wouldn't even let me touch you. Not even - come near you. And I tried to help, Percival. Tried to talk. Tried to do something - anything. You replied with grunts and two worded sentences and I felt utterly helpless."
"So what?" Graves says. "Suddenly you decided I wasn't worth shit because I couldn't pull myself together after what happened and you ran to cry in Credence's arms?!"
"No!"
"Because it seems like it!"
"No! I just - we just - it was a mistake," Newt says, raking a hand through his hair. "The first time. It had been one month since I picked you at the hospital and I - I was at the end of my rope. You turned everyone away. You turned me away, and that fucking hurt. Even the psychologist -"
"I went to your psychologist. It was a disaster -"
"Then you should have tried another one! And another! And another! Until you found someone who worked for you, helped you pull yourself out of that - that - that hole of despair you had fallen in, someone who could bring you back home - back to me! I kept seeing you distance yourself from me, barely eating, barely sleeping - and I couldn't do anything because you wouldn't let me ! Credence and I were drunk," Newt says, looking away. "We were drunk and I was desperate for the slightest touch, the slightest bit of affection that you wouldn't show me, you know how much I need it - and Credence kissed me."
Graves laughs, although his heart is breaking in two. "And you didn't think of me? You didn't, once, stop and think - oh wait, cheating on my lover of three years is bad?"
"I thought of you all the time! All the time, Graves," and oh, the formality hurts. "I couldn't even exist by myself anymore. Every breath I took, every damned day from when I woke up to when I went to bed I worried about you and it was crushing me. I was trying to save our relationship without any effort on your part and I was - I was tired. I needed to let go. Credence gave me that."
"Stop mentioning his fucking name," Graves seethes. "Not in my fucking house. Tired. I can't fucking believe you. You were tired."
"I - "
"You were tired because you didn't get hugs and bedtime kisses while I was dealing with trauma, Newton," Graves growls. "While Ifought my way out of bed every day to try to look normal when every shadow, every man I saw reminded me of him and yes, that includes you! But you know what?"
"Perciv-"
"I was getting fucking better!" Graves wipes his eye with the back of his hand furiously, refusing to let the tears fall. "I was never going to be fine, not after what happened, but I was getting closer to it and I hoped - I hoped that you'd see it too and that - a-after today - " The tears roll down his cheeks without his permission and Graves draws in a few ragged breaths, trying to calm himself. "I was ready," Graves says, voice breaking. "Ready to - to mend this. I don't want to lose you, Newt."
Newt looks away, guilt crushing him.
"I was ready! Ready to touch you again. The last time you tried to hug me I punched you in the face as I woke up and I saw how much it hurt you. I felt it too, Newt, damn it. I missed you. But I couldn't do it. Not yet. I couldn't. I took paperwork duty for over two months because that meant I would be in my office and able to focus on something else than his fucking hands on my skin and his -" Graves shudders and falls silent, his lips trembling. "Anything but him. And that last mission," he finishes, looking at Newt, "It was a test. For me. I asked for it. I wanted to see if I could be on the field again. And I succeeded. And you know, I thought to myself - when I get home, Newt'll be so happy because I'll kiss him like I used to. I managed to solve this case, a kiss is nothing. I can do this. I washealing, Newt. I needed time."
"I DIDN'T KNOW!"
Newt breaks, voice loud in the room, anger and hurt spilling from his own eyes. "I. DID. NOT. KNOW," he stammers, getting up and punctuating each word with a jab of his finger to Graves' chest. "I DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND HALF OF WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT RIGHT NOW! You should have told me! No one told me anything! I was your lover, Percival! Did that mean nothing to you? Did you not trust me? The doctors refused to tell me what the hell was wrong with you. I had to guess. No touching? Night terrors? Paranoid? This describes most traumas. The only thing I could see was the strangling, but I knew there was more - I just didn't know what. And without that, I could not know how long - how long you were going to stay like this until you got over it. I didn't -"
"Got over it?" Graves interrupts softly. Newt snaps his mouth shut, the feeling of knowing he went too far spreading through him as something splits inside of Graves and Newt cannot do anything to stop the train from crashing.
"I didn't mean -"
"Oh, but you did."
"I -"
"You want to know what it was like?" Graves asks, surprising himself with how calm his voice sounds. "Do you want to know what Gellert Grindelwald did to me, Newton?"
Newt opens his mouth and closes it. He doesn't know what Graves wants to hear.
"I'll tell you what he did. Sit down."
Newt does so slowly, taking place on the bed, the mattress dipping below his weight. He faces Graves as he starts pacing in front of him, arms hugging his middle before he finally turns towards Newt.
"He hanged me," Graves starts, voice barely above a whisper. "He tied me up in his basement and when I woke up he was there."
White hair, mismatched eyes and a crooked grin.
"He said hello as if this was all perfectly normal to him and maybe it was."
"Hello, Percival," Grindelwald purrs, placing a hand over Graves' naked knee. The contact makes Graves' skin crawls and he tries to scramble away, his mind panicking - this wasn't supposed to happen, he was meant to be safe - but Grindelwald tuts and digs his fingers into Graves' skin, using the crushing grip to bring Graves that much closer to him. Graves tries to kick him in the face with his knees and Grindelwald avoids the attack easily, shaking his head as if Graves was a disobedient child. "Rude."
"You know, you're pretty," Grindelwald muses, and Graves' eyes widen. Minutely, he shakes his head before he can stop himself, muffled sounds of denial trying to form their way past the filthy gag in his mouth. Gods no. Please. Anything but that. "I'd love to play with you a bit longer, but I'm afraid our time is running out."
Grindelwald's hands leave him and there's room for Graves to breathe again as he pulls himself up in a sitting position, trying to look less small and defeated than he feels.
His heart positively stops when he sees what Grindelwald holds in his hands.
"Which do you prefer?" Grindelwald asks him as if discussing the weather. "Burning or choking?" The criminal holds a lighter in one hand and a sturdy rope in the other, and if Graves looks past him he can see the cans of gas behind Grindelwald and sobs at the implication.
Graves doesn't want to die.
"Sorry, what was that?"
Grindelwald takes off his gag and mockingly places a hand behind his ear, as if straining to hear what Graves has to say.
"I don't want to die," Graves confesses. He wishes Grindelwald was close enough to bite him - to do something, anything to defend himself, but the other man got up as soon as Graves' gag was off.
"Repeat that?"
"I don't - want to die."
"Again."
"I don't want to die," Graves cries.
"Aaaaaw." Grindelwald coos. "But I'm afraid you don't really have a choice, sweetheart. Rope or flame?"
Graves' heart sinks.
"I think rope will look good on you," Grindelwald says, cheerful. "Rope it is."
"W-wait-"
"Told you," Grindelwald says impatiently. "We don't have time. Do you even listen?"
I might if I wasn't currently facing my death, Graves thinks hysterically.
Grindelwald is humming as he wraps the rope around Graves' neck while Graves succumbs to the terror. Grindelwald ignores his pleas as he secures the knot at the base of Graves' neck and then he says, "Look up, sweetheart."
Graves, God help him, does, and sees a hook hanging from the ceiling, the kind of hook a butcher would use to hang a pig as he cuts him.
"This is for you," Grindelwald breathes in his ear. "I wonder how pretty you'll look dangling from that, hum? Picture it," he whispers. "Tears falling from your eyes, your hands clutching desperately at your throat, trying to relieve the pressure but it's impossible; your tongue lolling out of your mouth, your eyes rolling back into their sockets, your legs kicking at nothing."
Grindelwald is breathing hard against his neck, and Graves is paralyzed by the picture he paints. There's a firm pressure at his backside and with a shocked whimper Graves realizes at once what it means - Grindelwald is aroused.
Aroused at the image of Graves' death.
"Oh yeah," Grindelwald purrs. "It'll be great."
He pulls Graves upright and cuts off the zip-ties tying his hands and legs together. Graves sags against him, paralyzed, unable to speak, mind still trying to come to terms with his imminent death. "Come on, doll. It's not that bad."
Grindelwald brings the hook over to him, the slide of the chain grating their ears as he attaches the rope to it, securing its hold.
"And-"
"Wait-"
"Here we -"
"NO!"
"Go!"
"STOP- ack!"
Graves chokes on his protests as Grindelwald tugs on the rope with all his strength - and he is strong, able to lift a man like Graves up until his feet are barely scraping the floor, toes curling to find purchase. The victim feels like a butterfly, pinned and mounted on a card under Grindelwald's appreciative gaze. The rope is digging into the skin of Graves' throat, cutting off his airway, and his hands fly to it, but the rope is too tight for him to be able to slip a finger between it and the vulnerable skin of his neck. Horrible gurgling sounds fill the room, Grindelwald's grin widening as Graves slowly dies; Graves' cheeks are wet with tears, saliva dribbles down his chin, his mouth open and tongue out, just like Grindelwald described it. A painting. A sight to see.
He looks up and with his hands tries to pull the rope off the hook, to save himself - but Grindelwald kicks him and Graves loses his balance, resorting to dangling once more like a fish at the end of a fishhook. He can only exist and take it. His whole body twists, trying to escape, and in a last desperate attempt at survival he tries to talk.
"G-Gellert-" He gasps out. "G-Gellert - - ave me - p-please - G-Grindelwald-"
"Oooh? What's that?"
"P-please- please - Gellert -"
Grindelwald's smile splits his face in two. "Alright, sweetheart. I've got you."
He releases the rope.
Graves falls on his back on the floor, the shock chasing the air from his lungs as he tries to do the opposite, to take in big gulps of air to calm the racing of his heart. More tears fall, from relief this time; there's drool all over his chin and it feels gross, drying up on the corners of his mouth, but he's alive. He's alive .
In his dazed state he hears the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and doesn't comprehend it until he feels hands under his arms pulling him up and he opens his eyes and finds himself face to face with Grindelwald's erect cock.
"Oh God, no," Graves whimpers, broken.
"Ssssh." Grindelwald croons. "This is your fault. Just open your mouth and take it. Unless you prefer the rope?"
Graves shakes his head vigorously, pleading as he looks up at his captor and Grindelwald languidly pushes his cock past Graves' lips until it bumps against his teeth.
"Open up."
And Graves sobs and he cries and he does.
"Stop," Newt says. "Please stop."
"It wasn't over," Graves continues, ignoring him, voice rising as he speaks. "That would have required Grindelwald to be merciful."
"He made me suck him off. Tugged at the rope with one hand to tilt my head back and pulled his cock deep down my throat until I couldn't breathe. And he was loving every second of it. Someone who doesn't know him would think that enough to satisfy him."
"No," Newt says, crying. "No."
"And when he had my spit all over him, when it was slick enough for him, he pulled off, flipped me over on my back and took me dry."
Newt clasps both hands over his mouth, looking sick. "Oh God. Oh God."
"He tore me open in half," Graves murmurs. "The pain was indescribable, Newt. Indescribable. I wished for death. I welcomed it if it meant the pain would stop."
"And he kept going until I couldn't scream anymore, and when he was done he left me there."
"And that's how they found me," Graves' voice softens as he finishes. "My team. Lying boneless on the floor, a rope still wrapped around my neck, strangulation marks all over my skin, blood and semen dripping down my thighs."
"So forgive me," Graves says, "For not being fucking over it."
Without another word, Graves walks out of the room, into the corridor, and storms outside, leaving behind a deafening silence.