I Wish I Was Sorry - Chapter IV
That day we barely spoke to each other and when we did it was about something trivial, something everyday normal. It was absurd that I could ask him to please pass the jam in a steady voice when all I could see when I looked at him was the way he had closed his eyes and turned his head to the side as I had fucked him and dug my fingers into his hips. I knew we needed to talk – we couldn't continue pretending as if everything was fine, as if nothing was wrong. But deep down I was terrified of confrontation, I didn't want to look into his eyes and see that he didn't want this, that he wanted to stop. I don't think I could have stopped.
Three sounds had become familiar to me: the creak of a floorboard, the squeak of a door, the rustle of sheets. Three sounds that filled me simultaneously with trepidation and excitement. Three sounds that made me hard. When he climbed into my bed that night I was on top of him far too soon but I thought that the sounds of his gasping and my moaning might drown out the voice in my head that kept demanding I talk to him. Our clothes were pulled off by my importunate hands and my fingers were inside him, twisting and stretching, and we hadn't said a word to each other.
I pulled my hand away and brought his thighs up around my waist, pressing closer to him. That's when he gave a broken little gasp and I stopped to look at him, really look at him. His arms were lying motionless by his sides, palms flat against the bed, and his head was turned to the side, his eyes fixed unblinking on the wall as his teeth pressed hard into his bottom lip. My stomach plummeted – so the confrontation was finally here.
'Harry, look at me,' I murmured. 'Look at me.' Slowly he turned his head and looked up and I could see he was biting his lip to prevent tears from spilling. 'Harry, tell me what's wrong.' It was such a ridiculous thing to say, we both knew what was wrong – I was about to fuck him and afterwards he'd cry and I'd turn away from him and tomorrow we would pretend it hadn't happened and then it would start all over again.
'It hurts.' I wasn't expecting an answer and for a moment I was too surprised to reply. 'Here,' he whispered and surprised me further by taking my hand and pressing it to his chest. I could feel his heart beating rapidly against my palm. 'It hurts so much.' His voice cracked and the tears he had been fighting spilled down his cheeks. My throat was suddenly tight and I didn't know what to say; I could feel my heart beating, throbbing, aching in time with his.
His legs tightened around my waist and I saw him clench the sheets in his fist. His eyes closed again and he whispered, 'Make it go away, Sirius.' He sounded so young and I was cruelly reminded I was on the brink of fucking a child but I buried the thought and gripped his thighs as I pushed inside him. He whimpered and I saw his jaw tighten and I paused, buried deep in him.
'Don't stop.' It was a ragged breath but it was all that I needed. I began to thrust in and out, going as slow as I could bear and I could hear him murmuring under his breath. His hands came up from the bed to curl around my neck and I kissed his throat as my hips shoved faster and harder. He was whispering, half to himself I think, a constant chant through gritted teeth. 'Don't stop don't stop don't stop.'
I snaked a hand between us and cupped him as his fingers tangled in my hair and I bit and sucked his neck fervently. He was sobbing by now, a desperate choking noise between his words and his hips were raising to thrust into my hand as he gasped and murmured. And suddenly with a strangled cry he was coming, spilling over my palm and tightening around me. I groaned his name and sunk my teeth into his shoulder as I released inside him.
We lay panting, me still inside him and his legs still clamped around my waist. He was still murmuring 'Don't stop' breathless and disjointed. I raised my head from his neck and kissed his mouth to stop his words. I carefully pushed his legs from my waist and pulled out of him, causing him to shudder. I lay down on my back, catching my breath and he wriggled closer. His arm snaked across my waist and he rested his head on my chest; I slid my arm down his back and slowly traced patterns over his warm skin.
He fell asleep quickly, his breathing soft against my chest but I remained awake, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, knowing that there was still much more that had to be said between us.
Porro...