The voices were close. He heard them, but in the dream they only had the form of shadows lurking in the recesses of his tired mind. He tried to understand something of them, but he couldn't. He ran, the walls moved backwards until he finally found the door. Wooden door with a chipped handle. When he pressed it, the door burst open and a crack appeared. And he saw blond hair through it. Long blonde hair.
A sound of closing door snap him from his sleep. He rubbed his face with his hand, smearing something on it. He fell asleep as he used to in recent months, rolled into a ball, his hands covering his stomach. The inside of his hand was in his blood. Agatha couldn't see him like that. All the stress she has been exposed to could affect the baby. He couldn't even imagine going through such loss... again.
He put all his strength into rising to his feet. The joints frozen in one position began to scar. Old man…
He went into the bathroom, pulling off his dirty shirt. He dropped it on the floor, letting the water drain into the bathtub in the middle. Out of the corner of his eye, in a standing mirror, he noticed that he wore a brown and red stain on his undershirt. He washed his face and looked at his reflection. He saw something in the mirror. There was something in the dark corner of the bathroom. A shadow.
- Percy ?!
- In the bathroom!
Agatha knocked lightly and put her head through the door ajar. Seeing her husband in the undershirt and boxer shorts, she smiled. He looked like a grown-up child with black beard. Her face thinned when she saw blood. She rushed to his side.
- I'm fine, Aggie.
She felt the heat in her stomach. She didn't remember when he last called her that last time. That's why she didn't like her name. It was so hard and official.
- I don't believe you shorten my name.
- Really? I haven't noticed...
He pulled her close to him, with his thumbs tracing the circles on her wide hips. Agatha followed his gaze, covering his hands with hers, unable to concentrate on the sensations that were going over her. Lips on her skin, hands on her body. How she missed him. She clung to him with her whole body, pushing her lips against his. He parted mouth slightly, giving her a silent invitation. His fingers tightened on her sides as she slid her tongue in, licking the inside of his lips. She felt the metallic taste of blood. He gently pushed her away from him.
- What happened?
He felt her thirst. It was tangible like a thick fog. And yet he had the impression that he would only use her. He wouldn't make love to her, just use her as an outlet for weeks of anxiety, stress and frustration. He was never a delicate lover, but he knew that this time he would cross the limit of self-control.
Agatha knew this dark look in his brown eyes. She knew that he wanted her to the pain. And that he would give it to her. Pain. She wasn't afraid of it. She treated their relations as something mystical. As if their souls were united in this one primitive act of love. She knew that he puts all his heart into it and everything that accumulates in it. She wanted to take everything that hurt his soul and take over.
Carefully she pulled off his undershirt and chiffon blouse from her shoulders. She took a step forward, reaching Adam's apple with her lips, gently stroking the sensitive skin with her teeth. Cool, long fingers traced the thin line of hair on his stomach. Percival closed his eyes, still holding his hands stiff. He felt that he could no longer control himself.
- Agatha ...
She moved away from him, stroking his unshaven cheek. She took his hand and guide him to sit on the stool. He stiffened when she crouched. But she just looked at the wound on his side.
- It looks inflamed. I hope it's not an infection.
- I used dittany, like you asked me to.
He cleared his throat, hearing the tremble of his voice. Agatha cleaned the wound, splitting two of the six stitches that remained. For a moment she maneuvered her wand by his stomach and back until he felt the edges of the wound seam again.
- Go to the bathtub, I'll bring fresh towels.
Percival made the order, wincing when the warm water washed the sewing. But after a while, he gave in to the relaxation that began at his feet. He leaned his head against the edge of the tub. Agatha quietly stepped in, putting the towels on the stool. She leaned over him, brushing the damp hair from his forehead.
- Rest.
The bed looked like someone had been murdered in it. Agatha pulled off the sheets and bedding, her wand pulling on the stains on the pillow and mattress. She sighed quietly, praying that Percival could rest as long as possible. She looked at the door and then at the alarm clock on the shelf. It was almost five. She focused on the feeling of love that filled her with bliss and conjured up a silvery cat. She bent to him, whispering a message in his ear. In her mind she recalled the building, the department and the cramped office and the addressee.
Hearing the gentle murmur of water, she entered the bathroom. She took a small stool and sat down, taking a rough sponge in her hand. She dipped it in the water and dug a bar of soap into it. She began with his hands, moving to the elbows and arms. She gently washed the shoulder, which still carried the traces of charm. He relaxed again, completely surrendering to her movements. Slowly he floated into a sweet non-being, when the sponge pulled to a sensitive place just below his navel. But Agatha changed direction, rubbing the suds into his legs.
- Can you sit down?
He did what she asked for. She washed his back, taking care of the other side of the wound, and then cautiously slipped into the water behind him.
- What are you doing?
- I want to massage your back.
He didn't believed in her innocent tone, but said nothing. She wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to keep them higher so as not to hurt him. She ran her hands through the strained muscles and began to gently rub and knead them. Percival held himself upright with all his will, so as not to lean on her.
- It won't give you anything when you're uptight. You can rest on me.
- I'm heavy.
- I dare to say you lost some weight. But how is it relevant?
- Child...
Suddenly, everything jumped into place. Agatha almost hit her forehead. He was worried about the child. That both of them would get hurt. She laughed under her breath. She embraced his neck and pulled him so his head leaned against the edge of the tub, his back resting on her collarbone.
She didn't have much room for maneuver, but her hands began to draw various patterns, for a moment, circling around his chest. She knew that he liked it, though he never admitted it. Over the years, she had learned every sensitive place on his body, though he did not say a word about it. He preferred to give than to take. She felt his thigh muscles tense. Continuous self-control.
She reached up to his neck, feeling anger when her hard stomach prevented her from moving more. She made a small murmur of dissatisfaction. Graves stood up immediately, splashing water all over the floor.
- Hey! Now we will broke our necks while coming out. Percy ... is it ... is it because of what I did? That I left you? That's why you don't want me to touch? Because if you don't, I will understand ...
He was sitting at the other end of the tub now and looking at her, frowning. He looked like a lion ready to jump. The voice tightened in her throat.
One quick move and he was over her, pouring more water. He put his arm around her, supporting her above the surface. Hot lips collided with her own until their teeth grated. After a while, he rested on her. He let go of the edge of the tub and wanted to slip his free hand between her thighs, but the injured abdominal muscles refused to obey. He swore at her mouth, breaking the kiss.
- Percy?
He didn't say anything, breathing heavily. The whole situation sobered him. He stood up and carefully stepped out onto the wet tile. He lifted her to her feet and carefully pulled her out of the water. He kissed her, putting his tongue into her mouth. She grabbed his biceps, all her body against his.
- Percy, you're shivering.
- Thanks to you - he murmured into her hair, hugging her firmly. Of course, he won't tell her that he is completely finished and is barely upright. He wiped her gently with a towel, pushing to the stool so she had to sit on its edge.
- Let's go to bed.
He nodded and took her in his arms, carrying her into the bedroom. Their reunion, after months of loneliness, was rough but they could feel more in love than ever. Like parted lovers finally coming back together. In a moment it was like they never split. Like months of pain, anger and eventually sadness never existed. They were whole again.
- Percy?
His weight was overwhelming. He was indeed heavy. She almost forgot how it is. She felt something cold down her neck and shoulder. He held her tightly with him, his hand embracing her belly and trembling.
- So much ... I love you so much ...
He kissed her ear and neck, finally rising. Before she could turn around, he wiped his face.
- You don't have to be ashamed of them ...
Agatha ran a thumb over the wet trail on his cheek. He laughed, taking her hand in his, kissing her palm.
- But you can. An old fool crying out of love.
- You're neither fool nor old. I love you Percival.
He felt her words making his way through everything he had recently been part of. He felt happiness. Boundless happiness.