S-s-stutter [Zarry]

ssshhhh

+Harry

"How pathetic, he has a s-s-stutter."

Slick tongues and sleazy clothes and fingers scratching my scalp.

s
t

a
m
m
e
r

Sinister smiles and sexual advances and stammering

"S-s-stop."

Squeezing my eyelids shut and shattered glass and a dumpster.

An empty alleyway and shallow, staggered breaths.

Warm hands on my soft skin.

"So smooth."

Sniffles and tears staining my cheeks and him fisting up my shirt and sliding it up, guiding it over my head.

"Shhhh, gotta be quiet."

Pitiful whimpers and squeezing and yanking and tugging.

And thrusting and moaning.

Sensitivity and shivering and my spine tingling.

Spitting filithy words and filling me up, my body pressed against a cold brick wall.

Him sneering and snickering and me sobbing and my eyes stinging.

Stiff and sticky and sore and losing my strength.

Stroking me and sucking bites into my neck and scissoring me with his fingers and me squirming and suffering and my heart screaming.

Small shireks and harsh slaps and being reprimanded.

"Don't tell anyone," he hisses.

Like a slithering snake. Venomous words.

Shaking and trembling and my heart quaking.

Bottom lip quivering and me biting my tongue.

And his mate joining in, grappling, his hands roaming and his eyes hungry.

Drinking me in and sinking to his knees, his fingers skidding up my legs and-

"Harry," I snap out of it and look up from the couch. He sighs and scribbles something on his notebook.

"S-sorry."

"Don't apologize," he frowns.

"M-mmy mum makes me come to t-t-these appointments."

Speech pathology. As if. I've had a stutter my whole life. I avoid socialization. They call me slow. It doesn't phase me.

"I know," he chuckles. "You love to remind me how much you hate coming. Talking to me isn't that bad is it? It sure beats us staring at each other awkwardly."

I laugh and stretch out comfortably on the couch.

"You have a nice laugh you know."

My cheeks flush and I fiddle with my fingers, twirling around a ring.

"T-thanks."

He smiles fondly and jots down something else.

"What do you even write down?"

He arches his brows and gazes at me for a moment, the cap of his pen in his mouth.

"What?"

"Your stutter," he says somewhat astonished.

"Oh," I mutter.

"You said a whole sentence without-" he cuts himself short, mumbling something and shaking his head.

I study the way his amber eyes flick over his notes and how his fingers carefully tuck pages.

Shrill cries and wailing sirens and stark white light and my head colliding with the concrete. Jabs and jeers and feet hitting the pavement.

Slicing my skin on a shard of glass and being scooped up by strong arms and a stretcher and leaking out blood.

The intensive care unit and being branded a rape victim and remaining silent, my tongue in my cheek.

Can't even speak.

"Mute," the doctor says.

My mum sobbing, nudging me, begging me to tell my story.

"Are you okay Harry?"

"S-sleepy," I lie.

"You can lay down if you want. I don't mind. Let's just keep things casual. This shouldn't feel like a chore."

So I rest my head on a pillow and tug up the blanket he has neatly folded on the chair of the couch.

"Are you comfortable?"

"A-am I safe here?"

"Why wouldn't you be?"

So I let my eyes close.

"Harry please," she pleads. "Talk to them. They're trying to help you. They hurt you baby."

"Harry, Harry, wake up."

Being shaken softly and my eyes snapping open, stifling a breath. Me clinging to him, his fingers carding through my hair.

Me soaking his shirtsleeve and him assuring me it's okay.

"I won't hurt you."

Letting someone touch me for once in my life.

But he's so gentle and I am safe here. Safe in his arms, my heart steadily beating.

Fluttering in my ribcage as the pad of his thumb collects teardrops.

Caressing my face.

"My stutter got worse," I choke on a sob. "Got worse after what happened."

"Did he hurt you babe?"

I nod timidly, correcting him. "T-they."

Gang rape.

That's what the authorities said, that's the term I lived with each night in the dark, snuggled down, huddled under sheets, my window locked tight.

Afraid of the dark, sleeping with a nightlight at fifteen.

Nightmares and waking up in a cold sweat, in a stifling heat. Pulling of the covers and shivering as the frigid air hits my bare skin.

Glistening with sweat, droplets pooling at the nape of my neck.

"Shh, don't cry."

"Shhhh, gotta be quiet."

Him rubbing soothing circles into my hip.

No tugging, tonguing, thrusting, taunting, tormenting.

Just tender touch.

And silent tears and his supple lips on my cheek, kissing them away.

"M'sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Kiss me again."

No stutter. Just a soft command and him leaning in again, his lips brushing over mine.

Slow exploration, so gentle our lips are barely touching, his eyelashes fluttering before his eyes close and my body reacting, the tenseness easing.

A good shiver spreading down my spine and him deepening the kiss slightly, his tongue lapping.

My heart is pouding but I'm not scared, his fingers tangled in my curls.

Him pulling away, a smile on his face.

"I don't mind your stutter at all."

A/N: Another Zarry story....hi