tw- orgasm control.
mature content ahead.
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 | "𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?"
ϟ
I recall the wails of terror, death, and torture. When the sun dips to another region and my head slams onto a pillow, the subtleties of the final battle tear between the crevices of my brain.
Harry's decapitated head reflected as a symbol that we have failed, that the scenes following the occasion shan't be bright, we shall no longer be happy.
The battlefield is all my mind can picture whilst striding past the patients in this hospital.
Vance's procedure ended one hour within his arrival, the healer only neglected to inform me. She concluded it was for my benefit to alert me when he was cautious.
Draco practically shouted at her, telling her how unprofessional and amateurish it was to leave me crying in the waiting room when Vance was in a good condition.
I have paced, striding past his door fifteen times in the last ten minutes, debating how I should reflect my sorrow. He refrains from noticing, his eyes are a daze and blink slowly in a manner where it perceives as he is doused, tired.
I watch as his facial highlights shadow in the hospital lighting, I noticed the leisure rising and falling of his hefty shoulders.
"Y/N."
Fuck. He is not as drowsy as I previously suspected he was.
Peering my head through the thick wooden entryway, I intensely observe for a symbol of outrage, frustration, or irritation. "Yes?"
"Come here," he gestures his hands and I do, I leisurely pace my feet to the side of his bed, cautious to be aware of my environmental factors. "You have walked past my door so many times, it's giving me a headache."
I remain quiet, endeavoring to arrange my expressions of conciliatory sentiment. "Earlier— I didn't mean what I said. I don't hate you, I said it out of anger. It was a mistake not to take it back immediat—"
"—Can I give you my explanation?"
"Yes, of course."
A lock of his black hair droops to his eye lid. Brushing it off with the utilization of the tip of his fingers, he clears his throat. "It was one time— your second day in that blighting old cell. I just wanted to see you— after watching you for four years it felt strange to be without you for two days."
My brain marinated with questions, questions I had previously shoved into the deep crevices of my mind. Yet, I cannot form my lips to ask them— I have in the past and he brushed them off, he is concealing something.
Being unconscious for four years rattled my confusion. If my body were paralyzed for such a duration of time, my joints, knuckles, and muscles would've begun hardening, solidifying.
When I was shoved onto the cement flooring of imprisonment, I was just as flexible as I formerly were during the final battle.
"You were sleeping," Vance continued, slipping his hand underneath my palm, circumnavigating his thumb in leisure motions onto the back zone between my thumb and index finger. "Reega walked by, it was time for your morning condition— torture. I knew how cruel she could be so I took it to my own wand to complete the task for her. I don't want to get into what spell or how long but that's just what happened. It was one time and the guilt eats me up to this day."
"Oh, that's—"
"—That's why most of the time I can't sleep in the same bed as you or even watch you sleep. It reminds me of how you woke up in pain— because of me."
Ironic how a murderer retrains from feeling sympathy for his victims but falls into a pit of guilt for me.
But it is regret that bubbles and swirls through his thick veins.
Regret is there to invite us to view past events through different perspectives than the ones we had at the time, in the action of the moment. It is this creative perspective taking that grows our emotional intelligence and gives us greater maturity.
Regret is a snow-globe— shake it up, look at it from every angle, and then let it settle on a self to gather dust.
Regret, regret, regret.
"You still have secrets." I say lowly, eliminating my hand from his warm touch. My eyes simmer with a heave of disappointment, a sheer layer of shameful curiosity curtaining my vision. "There are still some things you don't tell me— important things."
He snaps his fingers. In an instant, the blinds to every window diminish a vision or lighting coming in from the outer world, the heavy wooden door shutting as the lock clicked. "We all have secrets. Mine is to protect you. Yours— well, your secret is selfish, isn't it?"
"What?"
Vance presses the entirety of his spine onto the frame of the bed, sitting up as he slid the cotton covers off his lower body. "Y/N, get on top for me."
For a fraction of a second confusion packs my thought process. Then, I comprehend what he desires me to do. "Okay but aren't you like— in pain?" I question, raising my knee onto the mattress, utilizing my upper body muscle to elevate my body.
"No, they healed me correctly— probably." He lifts the shirt of his dotted hospital uniform, uncovering his scar-free chest and abdomen. "They used Essence of Dittany, or the Reparifors charm. I'm not sure."
"Oh," I reply, his touch guiding my core to sit right below his waistband. I straddled my inner legs to press on his hips, the flimsy fabric of our garments kneading against one another.
"You realize I monitor everything you do, correct?" He streams his palm upwards and down on my waist, utilizing his alternative hand to slide his fingers underneath the material of my grey dress. "When I ask you where you were, I don't ask because I don't know. I ask to see if you decide to be truthful. Do you even feel the slightest bit of guilt for the act you committed?"
Guilt is the dance partner of greed in the grand theater of emotional indifference.
Guilt is a matter of balance. When I need to feel guilty it will show me how to become a better person, less rotten, more healthy. This is being human. This is how us as living, breathing, individuals are wired.
Guilt, guilt, guilt.
I shove a confession down my throat, lodging it at my diaphragm. My spine rattles in a chill as only the tip of his fingers and the light touches of his nails graze in directions of my inner thigh. "Could you be more specific?"
"Does this—," he reaches both his hands up to the collar of my dress, tearing the fabric down the middle. He kept his eyes on mine, refusing to glance at my body as he slid the sleeves from my arms, slamming the dress to the frigid tile floor. "—Feel familiar to you?"
He knows, he for sure knows.
"Ho—How did you find out." I say, shame pounding my cheeks and humiliation spiraling through my blood. "W—Why didn't you say something earlier? You acted completely normal this morning."
"I saw your dress on his floor by his bed." Vance reached his arms behind me, un-clasping the metal hooks to my bra. He slides the straps off my arms, the chilly air hitting the raw skin of my tender breasts. "He was naked, in the bathroom, telling me he had to shower. Yet, Draco is a depressed little bitch boy, he only takes showers at odd hours of the night, not in the late afternoon. I put two and two together, and I figured it out."
I felt his erection develop underneath me as his thumbs brushes against my bare nipple, a throbbing arousal pooling my panties. "Why aren't you mad? You seem— fine with it."
"You were upset with me and Draco is a master manipulator." Vance lifts my hips a few inches down his thigh. He slides his waistband halfway below his hips, his erection protruding beneath his navy blue boxers. "Did you gain an emotional connection to him?"
"No."
"Did you cum?"
"I didn't c—,"
"—Don't lie."
"Yes, I did."
Vance delicately lifts my wrist from its position, planting my palm onto the base of his heated shaft, his erection nearly bursting though the fabric of his boxers. "I'll let this slide, I haven't given you proper guidelines. I never told you that you couldn't fuck anyone else. Plus, I cherish you too much to send you back to prison for a mistake caused by an anger— an anger I fueled."
"You're forgiving me?"
"Yes, but don't get me wrong. I'm enraged and I'll deal with Draco later but first, I have to punish you."
I swallow lightly as he exposes his large cock. Wanting to relive a smidgen of pressure, I push my clit against his thigh. "How are you going to punish me?"
"You'll find out."
He gestures his glance at me then his length, utilizing a hand to hold it straight, intending to allow my body to effectively slide him in.
I adjust my stance, my knees shifting my body to align his tip to my drenched cunt as I slid the cotton fabrics of my panties to the side.
"You look so pretty like this." He says, observing my facial expressions as his cock embedded deep into me, completely sitting on his lap.
My teeth sunk into my bottom lip, his hands gripping my hips as he moved my body up and down, thrusting himself timely.
The pleasure spiked up my lower body corresponding with his pumps. He leaned forwards whilst pushing my back towards him. Vance pressed his lips onto mine, his tongue slipping past my teeth as I whimpered of satisfaction.
Vance pushes as deep as he possibly could, hindering my walls to tighten around his length. Instead of of pumping in and out, he utilizes his hands to grip lightly against my skin and pound my hips against his, permitting me to ride his cock.
"Oh my god." I gently whisper into the breath between us whilst my clit stimulates against the base of his shaft, various types of pleasure undulating up my every nerve.
"Fuck— don't cum until I say so." He deeply groans, pushing his lips onto my neck. He nibbles and suctions my skin.
His fingers run stream the canyon between my breasts and my hips continue to grind his length , my insides thundering with delight and fulfillment.
Vance leaves a trail of fresh love bites, beginning from just beneath my jaw to my collarbones. He marked me as his.
My clit continues to stimulate at his base, gritting his large cock inside me, my moans became further more content and the road to my orgasm shorted to a hazardously close amount. "Can you let me—"
"—No," he bucks my body in a faster pace, my whimpers growing louder with by the second. "Not until you assure me that you're mine."
My words fumble and the letters slip between the grasp of my palm. My mouth slurs my sentence from the outset, sounding the same to finish babble blended in with substantial breaths and extended moans. "I am— I am yours. Vance, there is no one else."
"Does Draco make you feel like this?" His voice trails and shapes into my ears, flowing radiantly.
I shake my head side to side, concentrating my attention on holding my orgasm. My body implores me to encounter this delivery, arguing me to conflict with him and cum. "No, no, no, he doesn't— he doesn't make me feel this good. Let me finish, please."
"Cum for me." Vance smashes our lips together, my body distributing waves and ripples of pleasure, featuring every nerve in my system. Instead of our lips moving together, they linger at one another, both groaning and whimpering as my walls tighten around his large cock.
He splutters his thick wispy white liquid into me.
I leisurely elevate my hips at an angle, maintaining my balance with a hand pressed at his shoulder prior to assembling my legs together. Falling onto the remainder of the mattress beside him, I begin to catch my breath.
"Listen," Vance embraces his arm to wrap me beneath my neck, nestling me in his warm hold as he slides to covers over our raw bodies"If you want, I'll give you everything back. Your wizardry, your ability to travel, and all that."
"Really?"
"Yeah."