FIC: A HEART OUT OF TIME PART SIX-B
Beta’d by:
pinkdoom
Hugs, kisses and boxes of chocolates to Her Highness ;-)
Author’s Note: Bob has a very bad day indeed, followed by puh-lenty of comfort. I didn't want to split this up, but for some reason LJ isn't liking the length, so I've had to. Sorry!
One Two Three Four Five
Six A
Bob’s thrashing woke Harry. He seemed to be in the grip of a nightmare, his face contorted, though whether in fear or pain it was hard to tell. He was damp with sweat, his face red and appallingly hot when Harry pressed his palm against it.
“Shhhh, it’s okay Bob. It’s only a bad dream,” Harry soothed. “Wake up now.”
But he did not wake, and Harry realized that although it would be easy to tell himself Bob was simply having a fevered nightmare, that wasn’t exactly what was going on here. ‘Something’ was, as he’d feared, still pulling him back - something he dreaded. His body bowed and shivered in agony, and he whimpered like a frightened child. He was lost in ancient nightmares, and Harry was going to have to dive in and bring him back.
Emma whined, licking Bob’s hand.
“It’s okay, girl. I won’t let go of him,” Harry promised.
He gathered Bob in his arms, took a deep breath, and lay his forehead against Bob’s, concentrating. At first he felt only the physical pain Bob was feeling, but after a bit he began to zero in on other sensations. He felt like someone, or something, was clawing viciously at his face and body. He centered himself and repulsed the negative force he felt back to its source. A harsh keening hurt his ears, though he knew he and Bob were the only ones who could hear it.
“He is mine!”
Harry winced at the power behind the belief.
“He’s never been yours, and he never will be,” Harry challenged. “He’s mine and I’m his - and you don’t want to mess with me, sister,” he warned.
The pain was so sharp, Harry felt his head had been cleaved in two. Bob cried out in his arms.
Enough, Harry thought. I’ve had damn well enough of the legend and the ghost of Winifride in my life, and I’ve had enough of her and her damn Black magic controlling Bob’s destiny. It.stops.here. She’s not going to have control of him ever again.
He knew it wasn’t literally Winifride the sorceress who was taunting him, but the residue of her considerable energy and power, intertwined with Bob’s subconscious fear of her and whatever he believed she represented in his relationship with Harry. It was Bob he had to convince here, as much as Winifride. Harry took his time, gathering all the will he possessed.
I’m going to banish her, Bob - forever. She’s never coming back for you again. She has no power over you. She can’t take you away from me. She can’t. Emma and I won’t let her, he added, willing to use whatever talisman Bob believed in.
It hurt. God, it hurt. Winifride was loathe to give up her claim on the Lord of Bainbridge and he was too battered to fight the battle on his own behalf any longer. Between her and Bob, they almost beat him...almost. There was a heartbeat pounding in his ears, louder and louder, like something from The Tell-Tale Heart, and the strong capable arms of a woman - not Winifride, he thought - at the edge of his vision, and then...nothing.
Winifride was gone. Bob lay limp in his arms. Emma panted heavily, unable to lift her head from the blanket. Harry felt like he’d just run an Olympic marathon, and his own heart was about to burst from his chest.
“Thank you,” he whispered, stroking Emma’s ear. She licked his hand.
Harry lay back on the bed, trying to catch his breath. Bob’s body felt slightly cooler under his fingers, as if whatever had gripped him was slowly subsiding.
Bob stirred. He looked at Harry in wonder, only a thin halo of celadon framing the black pupils.
“What you did for me - I have never imagined there being anyone in my life who would have the power to do what you have done...Beloved,” he whispered. “You would not abandon me.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I’m so ashamed that I have ever doubted you.” He buried his face against Harry’s chest.
Happy beyond measure that he had freed Bob from centuries of torment and slavery, Harry held him close, stroking him tenderly.
“It’s all over now, love,” he crooned. “Let it all go. It’s going to stay here, where it belongs. It will never follow us again.”
Bob nodded in agreement. “Yes.” He no longer feared to tell Harry the rest. Surely, Harry would not be happy to learn it, but just as surely, he would not leave.
Not just yet, though. He was more exhausted than he remembered being in his life, and had borne more today than he would have believed possible. If he deserved any kind of reward for that, he would have it tonight.
“Nap?” Harry asked, a tender smile on his face.
“Mmm-mmmh,” Bob agreed, burrowing into Harry’s naked warmth.
“Sweet dreams,” Harry offered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
~
When they woke again, both were hungry. Harry let Emma out, knowing she would go down to the lobby and that someone would let her back in, and she would eventually let them know she was back. They were clearly an inseparable team now. Harry wondered if Tessa would mind very much losing her dog, or if she’d hoped this would happen all along. He rather suspected the latter.
He propped Bob up with all the bed pillows and slowly spoon-fed him a delicious-smelling stew laced with burgundy, and a glass of port.
Bob found his appetite satisfied as much by watching Harry’s dark eyes shining with love as each spoonful came to him, as by the food.
When both of them were sufficiently full of stew, Harry built up the fire again and poured them healthy snifters of brandy.
Bob knew he was a fool for speaking up now, but he was troubled and needed an answer.
“Forgive me, Harry, but - I don’t understand why...how easily you accept my transgressions, which are not minor ones. I have acted against everything the Council stands for,” he sighed, “time and again.”
“Bob, you forget what a black sheep I am in the wizard community. I’m a Morningway, remember? The Black and its temptations are supposed to be in my genes,” Harry reminded him. “Always judged by my name, by people who don’t even know me. And thanks to Uncle Justin, I know better than most people, maybe, that sometimes good people do bad things, whether they’re for the right reasons or the wrong ones,” he sighed.
“I know how sorry you are, and how much you regret the things you’ve done. I know how much pain it’s caused you,” Harry continued. “I deal with what you’ve told me because I understand the person you were born to be before Life fucked you over. You believe that, don’t you?” he asked, waiting for Bob’s shy nod of agreement.
“I know what’s in your heart. What matters most is what’s in that heart now, Bob. The past can be the past, but only if you’ll let it.” Harry petted Bob’s white head softly. “And you forget the most important thing - I love you,” he murmured, kissing an eyebrow.
Bob closed his eyes. It was overwhelming, this being rewarded for honesty, for lack of guile. He’d had it from Gervase, but as sweet and loving as he was, Gervase was not this...this warrior of his heart, that Harry had become. Harry would die for him, and he would gladly die for Harry.
What sort of a strange world was it that forgave such grave sins and gave second chances? Not one that he could understand, obviously. But perhaps he didn’t need to understand everything; perhaps he could, after all these years, simply live without questioning any more. Content, he rolled over against Harry, stifling a grunt of discomfort from his abused body.
“What is it?”
“I’m rather sore,” Bob admitted.
“I’m not surprised. I know what you need - stay put for a minute,” Harry called over his shoulder, heading into the bathroom.
“Harry, come back. You needn’t fuss over me any more, I’ll be all right,” Bob called after him.
“Yeah, well, maybe - but I like fussing over you, so you’d better get used to it, understand?”
“I think I could do that.” Bob smiled to himself. Harry returned with a bottle of lotion and spread the bedclothes back.
“On your stomach,” he nudged. Bob raised a puzzled eyebrow.
“The fussing, Bob,” Harry teased.
“Ah - right.” Bob settled in the middle of the bed, not sure what was coming but fairly certain it would be pleasurable.
“Close your eyes, and keep them closed...and relax. That’s an order,” Harry added, softly teasing.
Bob complied. In a moment, he felt Harry‘s weight dip the mattress slightly. A delightful warmth pressed itself across his hips. Harry’s hands. Very slowly, in minute increments, they moved both higher and lower, gently stroking the muscles of his lower back and onto his buttocks. The pressure of thumbs hurt just a little as he pressed sore muscles, but the tender hands soothed along after. Bob groaned.
“Am I hurting you?” Harry asked quickly.
“No! No...it’s just...I’ve never felt such bliss before,” he admitted.
“No one’s ever given you a massage?”
“No.”
Bob shivered at the soft, unexpected touch of Harry’s lips at the base of his spine.
“Well...it might be your first, but it won’t be your last, sweetheart,” Harry vowed. “You just enjoy it, okay?”
“Okay.”
Bob let himself travel to another plane. He was here, with Harry, but he was also floating on a cloud of pure sensual delight as Harry’s hands stroked and kneaded him. Let others call this what they would; for Bob it was as much sweet, endless caress as therapy.
He felt the tension slip from his body as thumbs, fingers and elbows stroked and pressed from the top of his skull to the bottoms of his feet. More groans escaped him as Harry worked on his head, fingers rifling softly through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. Thumbs pressed at the base of his skull and then let go, releasing the ache in his head and shoulders.
Harry worked up from the backs of his thighs to his ass, paying careful attention to the top of his hips. Even though the movements were not meant to be sexual, Bob felt deep, powerful stirrings in his pelvis. It was different than the arousal he felt when having sex...stronger, and not just centered in his genitals but traveling throughout his body.
“Turn over.”
Harry spoke softly in his ear. It was a good thing Harry didn’t wait for him to actually attempt it, as he wasn’t sure he could move at this point. Harry rolled him over and began again, starting from his shoulders, rubbing all the knots and soreness away. He picked up a hand and began to work gently at the stiffness there, where Bob had clutched so desperately at the earth holding his mortal remains. He worked just as tenderly on the other hand, and then moved to his legs, and feet - who would have thought that could feel so good?
He was almost asleep when he felt Harry lift his cock with one hand and lightly cup his balls with the other. He opened his eyes in surprise.
“Is this a usual part of massage?” His voice sounded slurred.
“Not always,” Harry explained. “Tonight? Service of the House. It’s fine if you want me to stop,” Harry told him, waiting.
“Oh no,” he smiled, reaching out to stroke Harry’s forearm. “Don’t stop.”
Harry nodded, leaning forward to capture Bob’s mouth in a soft, sensual kiss. His caresses were much the same, more soothing him to orgasm than urging. He was almost content to float in this lake of pleasure forever. Almost.
Harry’s tongue flicked and danced and flirted with his, lightly, joyously. Bob’s response was just as eager, if slower. He was definitely in two minds about wanting this to end as it must...until Harry left his mouth and slid down, dropping kisses between his ribs. Breathing warmly against his belly. Nipping his curls just hard enough to make him groan with want.
Bless him, Harry didn’t make him wait. He shivered when Harry pressed a wet kiss to the head of his cock, vibrating his tongue slightly against the underside. Hands and mouth worked quickly in concert to relieve him. When Harry began to suck, Bob felt as if a powerful spiral of...Something...was being pulled from deep inside him, like the extraction of a tooth with very deep roots. For a moment he was afraid for Harry, but the fear passed and when it did he let go, shuddering with pleasure as Harry drained him.
Harry moved to lie beside him, and Bob heard him breathing heavily. He opened his eyes with difficulty and saw that Harry was sweating. A shiver of fear ran through him. He’d been right to worry.
“Harry!”
“ ‘s okay, Bob. It’s already passing,” Harry panted. “I’m stronger than he is...was,” he added softly.
“He - ?”
“...needed to know you were in good hands. That you’re protected,” Harry told him, “and loved. It’s okay now,” he assured Bob. There had been no real power to hold onto him - to claim him - but Harry had felt a powerful love, and fear for Bob. He’d done his best to reassure the anxious specter, and Bob’s memory of him.
“Harry? Hold me.”
Harry rolled over and pulled Bob into his arms, kissing him softly.
“Always. I’ll always be holding you, Bob, even if you can’t see me.”
pinkdoom
Hugs, kisses and boxes of chocolates to Her Highness ;-)
Author’s Note: Bob has a very bad day indeed, followed by puh-lenty of comfort. I didn't want to split this up, but for some reason LJ isn't liking the length, so I've had to. Sorry!
One Two Three Four Five
Six A
Bob’s thrashing woke Harry. He seemed to be in the grip of a nightmare, his face contorted, though whether in fear or pain it was hard to tell. He was damp with sweat, his face red and appallingly hot when Harry pressed his palm against it.
“Shhhh, it’s okay Bob. It’s only a bad dream,” Harry soothed. “Wake up now.”
But he did not wake, and Harry realized that although it would be easy to tell himself Bob was simply having a fevered nightmare, that wasn’t exactly what was going on here. ‘Something’ was, as he’d feared, still pulling him back - something he dreaded. His body bowed and shivered in agony, and he whimpered like a frightened child. He was lost in ancient nightmares, and Harry was going to have to dive in and bring him back.
Emma whined, licking Bob’s hand.
“It’s okay, girl. I won’t let go of him,” Harry promised.
He gathered Bob in his arms, took a deep breath, and lay his forehead against Bob’s, concentrating. At first he felt only the physical pain Bob was feeling, but after a bit he began to zero in on other sensations. He felt like someone, or something, was clawing viciously at his face and body. He centered himself and repulsed the negative force he felt back to its source. A harsh keening hurt his ears, though he knew he and Bob were the only ones who could hear it.
“He is mine!”
Harry winced at the power behind the belief.
“He’s never been yours, and he never will be,” Harry challenged. “He’s mine and I’m his - and you don’t want to mess with me, sister,” he warned.
The pain was so sharp, Harry felt his head had been cleaved in two. Bob cried out in his arms.
Enough, Harry thought. I’ve had damn well enough of the legend and the ghost of Winifride in my life, and I’ve had enough of her and her damn Black magic controlling Bob’s destiny. It.stops.here. She’s not going to have control of him ever again.
He knew it wasn’t literally Winifride the sorceress who was taunting him, but the residue of her considerable energy and power, intertwined with Bob’s subconscious fear of her and whatever he believed she represented in his relationship with Harry. It was Bob he had to convince here, as much as Winifride. Harry took his time, gathering all the will he possessed.
I’m going to banish her, Bob - forever. She’s never coming back for you again. She has no power over you. She can’t take you away from me. She can’t. Emma and I won’t let her, he added, willing to use whatever talisman Bob believed in.
It hurt. God, it hurt. Winifride was loathe to give up her claim on the Lord of Bainbridge and he was too battered to fight the battle on his own behalf any longer. Between her and Bob, they almost beat him...almost. There was a heartbeat pounding in his ears, louder and louder, like something from The Tell-Tale Heart, and the strong capable arms of a woman - not Winifride, he thought - at the edge of his vision, and then...nothing.
Winifride was gone. Bob lay limp in his arms. Emma panted heavily, unable to lift her head from the blanket. Harry felt like he’d just run an Olympic marathon, and his own heart was about to burst from his chest.
“Thank you,” he whispered, stroking Emma’s ear. She licked his hand.
Harry lay back on the bed, trying to catch his breath. Bob’s body felt slightly cooler under his fingers, as if whatever had gripped him was slowly subsiding.
Bob stirred. He looked at Harry in wonder, only a thin halo of celadon framing the black pupils.
“What you did for me - I have never imagined there being anyone in my life who would have the power to do what you have done...Beloved,” he whispered. “You would not abandon me.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I’m so ashamed that I have ever doubted you.” He buried his face against Harry’s chest.
Happy beyond measure that he had freed Bob from centuries of torment and slavery, Harry held him close, stroking him tenderly.
“It’s all over now, love,” he crooned. “Let it all go. It’s going to stay here, where it belongs. It will never follow us again.”
Bob nodded in agreement. “Yes.” He no longer feared to tell Harry the rest. Surely, Harry would not be happy to learn it, but just as surely, he would not leave.
Not just yet, though. He was more exhausted than he remembered being in his life, and had borne more today than he would have believed possible. If he deserved any kind of reward for that, he would have it tonight.
“Nap?” Harry asked, a tender smile on his face.
“Mmm-mmmh,” Bob agreed, burrowing into Harry’s naked warmth.
“Sweet dreams,” Harry offered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
~
When they woke again, both were hungry. Harry let Emma out, knowing she would go down to the lobby and that someone would let her back in, and she would eventually let them know she was back. They were clearly an inseparable team now. Harry wondered if Tessa would mind very much losing her dog, or if she’d hoped this would happen all along. He rather suspected the latter.
He propped Bob up with all the bed pillows and slowly spoon-fed him a delicious-smelling stew laced with burgundy, and a glass of port.
Bob found his appetite satisfied as much by watching Harry’s dark eyes shining with love as each spoonful came to him, as by the food.
When both of them were sufficiently full of stew, Harry built up the fire again and poured them healthy snifters of brandy.
Bob knew he was a fool for speaking up now, but he was troubled and needed an answer.
“Forgive me, Harry, but - I don’t understand why...how easily you accept my transgressions, which are not minor ones. I have acted against everything the Council stands for,” he sighed, “time and again.”
“Bob, you forget what a black sheep I am in the wizard community. I’m a Morningway, remember? The Black and its temptations are supposed to be in my genes,” Harry reminded him. “Always judged by my name, by people who don’t even know me. And thanks to Uncle Justin, I know better than most people, maybe, that sometimes good people do bad things, whether they’re for the right reasons or the wrong ones,” he sighed.
“I know how sorry you are, and how much you regret the things you’ve done. I know how much pain it’s caused you,” Harry continued. “I deal with what you’ve told me because I understand the person you were born to be before Life fucked you over. You believe that, don’t you?” he asked, waiting for Bob’s shy nod of agreement.
“I know what’s in your heart. What matters most is what’s in that heart now, Bob. The past can be the past, but only if you’ll let it.” Harry petted Bob’s white head softly. “And you forget the most important thing - I love you,” he murmured, kissing an eyebrow.
Bob closed his eyes. It was overwhelming, this being rewarded for honesty, for lack of guile. He’d had it from Gervase, but as sweet and loving as he was, Gervase was not this...this warrior of his heart, that Harry had become. Harry would die for him, and he would gladly die for Harry.
What sort of a strange world was it that forgave such grave sins and gave second chances? Not one that he could understand, obviously. But perhaps he didn’t need to understand everything; perhaps he could, after all these years, simply live without questioning any more. Content, he rolled over against Harry, stifling a grunt of discomfort from his abused body.
“What is it?”
“I’m rather sore,” Bob admitted.
“I’m not surprised. I know what you need - stay put for a minute,” Harry called over his shoulder, heading into the bathroom.
“Harry, come back. You needn’t fuss over me any more, I’ll be all right,” Bob called after him.
“Yeah, well, maybe - but I like fussing over you, so you’d better get used to it, understand?”
“I think I could do that.” Bob smiled to himself. Harry returned with a bottle of lotion and spread the bedclothes back.
“On your stomach,” he nudged. Bob raised a puzzled eyebrow.
“The fussing, Bob,” Harry teased.
“Ah - right.” Bob settled in the middle of the bed, not sure what was coming but fairly certain it would be pleasurable.
“Close your eyes, and keep them closed...and relax. That’s an order,” Harry added, softly teasing.
Bob complied. In a moment, he felt Harry‘s weight dip the mattress slightly. A delightful warmth pressed itself across his hips. Harry’s hands. Very slowly, in minute increments, they moved both higher and lower, gently stroking the muscles of his lower back and onto his buttocks. The pressure of thumbs hurt just a little as he pressed sore muscles, but the tender hands soothed along after. Bob groaned.
“Am I hurting you?” Harry asked quickly.
“No! No...it’s just...I’ve never felt such bliss before,” he admitted.
“No one’s ever given you a massage?”
“No.”
Bob shivered at the soft, unexpected touch of Harry’s lips at the base of his spine.
“Well...it might be your first, but it won’t be your last, sweetheart,” Harry vowed. “You just enjoy it, okay?”
“Okay.”
Bob let himself travel to another plane. He was here, with Harry, but he was also floating on a cloud of pure sensual delight as Harry’s hands stroked and kneaded him. Let others call this what they would; for Bob it was as much sweet, endless caress as therapy.
He felt the tension slip from his body as thumbs, fingers and elbows stroked and pressed from the top of his skull to the bottoms of his feet. More groans escaped him as Harry worked on his head, fingers rifling softly through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. Thumbs pressed at the base of his skull and then let go, releasing the ache in his head and shoulders.
Harry worked up from the backs of his thighs to his ass, paying careful attention to the top of his hips. Even though the movements were not meant to be sexual, Bob felt deep, powerful stirrings in his pelvis. It was different than the arousal he felt when having sex...stronger, and not just centered in his genitals but traveling throughout his body.
“Turn over.”
Harry spoke softly in his ear. It was a good thing Harry didn’t wait for him to actually attempt it, as he wasn’t sure he could move at this point. Harry rolled him over and began again, starting from his shoulders, rubbing all the knots and soreness away. He picked up a hand and began to work gently at the stiffness there, where Bob had clutched so desperately at the earth holding his mortal remains. He worked just as tenderly on the other hand, and then moved to his legs, and feet - who would have thought that could feel so good?
He was almost asleep when he felt Harry lift his cock with one hand and lightly cup his balls with the other. He opened his eyes in surprise.
“Is this a usual part of massage?” His voice sounded slurred.
“Not always,” Harry explained. “Tonight? Service of the House. It’s fine if you want me to stop,” Harry told him, waiting.
“Oh no,” he smiled, reaching out to stroke Harry’s forearm. “Don’t stop.”
Harry nodded, leaning forward to capture Bob’s mouth in a soft, sensual kiss. His caresses were much the same, more soothing him to orgasm than urging. He was almost content to float in this lake of pleasure forever. Almost.
Harry’s tongue flicked and danced and flirted with his, lightly, joyously. Bob’s response was just as eager, if slower. He was definitely in two minds about wanting this to end as it must...until Harry left his mouth and slid down, dropping kisses between his ribs. Breathing warmly against his belly. Nipping his curls just hard enough to make him groan with want.
Bless him, Harry didn’t make him wait. He shivered when Harry pressed a wet kiss to the head of his cock, vibrating his tongue slightly against the underside. Hands and mouth worked quickly in concert to relieve him. When Harry began to suck, Bob felt as if a powerful spiral of...Something...was being pulled from deep inside him, like the extraction of a tooth with very deep roots. For a moment he was afraid for Harry, but the fear passed and when it did he let go, shuddering with pleasure as Harry drained him.
Harry moved to lie beside him, and Bob heard him breathing heavily. He opened his eyes with difficulty and saw that Harry was sweating. A shiver of fear ran through him. He’d been right to worry.
“Harry!”
“ ‘s okay, Bob. It’s already passing,” Harry panted. “I’m stronger than he is...was,” he added softly.
“He - ?”
“...needed to know you were in good hands. That you’re protected,” Harry told him, “and loved. It’s okay now,” he assured Bob. There had been no real power to hold onto him - to claim him - but Harry had felt a powerful love, and fear for Bob. He’d done his best to reassure the anxious specter, and Bob’s memory of him.
“Harry? Hold me.”
Harry rolled over and pulled Bob into his arms, kissing him softly.
“Always. I’ll always be holding you, Bob, even if you can’t see me.”