Crime and Punishment

They went to the dining room for lunch, Harry still crawling behind Sirius. His knees weren’t aching yet, since lying in the library had given him a rest. Unfortunately, none of the rest of him had been allowed the same rest. Sirius had continued to tease his prostate while he read, the device changing size and intensities in an irregular and unpredictable manner, so now Harry was as hard as a rock and more desperate than he could ever remember being.

He contemplated dropping the ball and just begging Sirius to be allowed to come. But he had to await Sirius’ pleasure even when not being punished, so the chances were that he wasn’t going to be given permission anyway.

They reached the table, and Harry was instructed to kneel between Sirius’ legs, his face staring at the older man’s groin. The beginnings of another erection were showing beneath his robes. Harry shifted uncomfortably, trying to find some position that didn’t put any weight on his abused rear.

“Stop wriggling,” Sirius ordered. Harry tried to obey.

After a while, Sirius started lowering down titbits for Harry to eat, small pieces of bread or salad, or lowering a cup so Harry could sip water. Everything he was given was plain, but there was enough of it. Sirius would take care to keep him healthy. Harry suspected his eating patterns had improved immensely since this relationship had begun, since Sirius refused to let him snack on chocolate between meals. Well, unless it was somewhere interesting on Sirius’ body.

When Sirius pushed back his chair and stood, he instructed Harry, “I have things to attend to. You may go your room and rest there. You are not to stand and you are not to cover yourself, but this is your leisure time, to spend as you will.”

“Master?” Harry asked, then waited until he was given permission to continue. “May I apparate there?” He didn’t much like the idea of crawling up the stairs to get there.

“You may,” Sirius told him. A moment later, Harry was kneeling on the rug beside his bed. It was awkward to get up onto the bed without standing, but soon enough he was lying on the covers. His fire hadn’t been lit, since he didn’t usually spend much time in here during the day, but he didn’t wrap the covers around his naked body. Forgetting simple instructions had got him into this mess.

He considered picking up the book he was in the middle of, but suddenly, lying there, he felt tired. He would have expected the combination of pain and frustration to keep him awake, but the release from the tension with which he’d been holding himself and probably some after effects of the night before meant that he quickly slipped into a doze.

When he woke, he was extremely surprised to find that he couldn’t move. He was bound spread-eagled. He was presumably still on his bed, but could tell because his head was held in another restraint. It was a padded frame that surrounded his face, meaning that his mouth and nose were free from obstruction. It meant that he couldn’t turn his head at all and was just staring at a sheet a few centimetres from his eyes. Not that he’d have been able to see much if he had been able to turn his head, because he wasn’t wearing his glasses any more. The little ball was still in his hand, so this was still part of his punishment.

He strained out with his ears. He could hear the crackle of the fire. Someone had obviously lit it, as well as tying him up so securely. He could hear the pattering of rain on the windows. But no sound of movement. He wanted to call out, to discover if Sirius was here, watching him, but speaking now would probably be inappropriate. So he remained silent, trying to detect if there was another in here or not.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, the silence a solid mass around him, broken by the crackling of logs in the fire. Outside the wind blew drops of rain against the windows. But on that bed, Harry lay still. His limbs were aching from the need to move and he began to wonder just how much time had passed. It felt like hours, the world frozen in the moment.

At last, Harry heard the soft pad of feet on the carpet. The wait was over. He didn’t know what pain would be forthcoming, but at least something would happen now.

“Patience is a talent well worth cultivating,” Sirius’ voice cut through the silence, “All that comes will come. Eventually.” Harry saw the double meaning in his words. If Harry was patient, he’d be allowed to come. For now though, he felt the thing inside him begin its pulsing once more.

“Eventually,” Sirius repeated.

Harry hissed as something icy cold was placed on his back, heated by the fire and the earlier beating. He guessed, from the cold, wet trail being dragged down his spine, that it might actually be ice. Then something warm and rough ran over the moisture, lapping it up. Sirius’ tongue on Harry’s skin was so erotic that Harry’s erection was bursting to be free of its restraints. The ice flowed over the welts left by the flogger and the angry red lines left by the paddle, followed swiftly by Sirius’ warm tongue.

The alternating sensations poured over an area already so abused was at the same time unbearably painful and unbearably erotic. Harry was sobbing in desperation, wanting to beg. Wanting it to stop or continue forever, he wasn’t sure. The thing inside him was attacking his prostate so thoroughly that his cock kept trying to come, but the ball stretcher meant that it was impossible.

Sirius pushed the lump of ice down inside Harry’s ass, where the contact with the pulsing thing already there made it push freezing coldness into his burning flesh. Water trickled out of his crack as the icy melted, and Sirius lapped it up, kissing the bruises he had left there earlier. Harry could feel Sirius kneeling over him, Sirius’ bare legs touching his own. Kisses ghosted across his back and hands reached beneath him to play with his nipples.

Sharp pain sent shockwaves straight to Harry’s groin. His balls tried to withdraw inside his body, tried to release their load, but they were denied. Fingers tweaked and twisted at the nubs, while teeth left their mark at the back of Harry’s neck, just beneath the collar. Then the teeth vanished behind lips, and soft kisses touched his neck and shoulders inside, the fingers changing to palms that caressed his chest with tenderness. The ice was melting, warming.

A hand reached inside Harry, and suddenly the attack on his prostate was over. The thing was gone, slipping out of him as though it was nothing. It was replaced by something more familiar. There was no preparation, since Harry was already stretched. Sirius’ cock, slick with lube, pressed in all the way, pulling out again and slamming home. Harry, becoming used to such rough sex, didn’t notice the pain as Sirius charged in and out. He just felt whole, complete because the other half of his soul was now inside him.
It took moments for Sirius to shoot his load crying out Harry’s name and admissions of love. He pulled out, leaving Harry with a feeling of emptiness, to collapse boneless on top of his young lover. His uneven breathing was loud in Harry’s ear, a sign of what he could manage without even moving. Though Harry was still desperate, made more so by the feeling of his lover inside him, it was almost enough that it had been his name Sirius had called. That had to be the most perfect sound in all the world.

At last, Sirius pulled himself from the stupor caused by a violent climax, and released Harry’s wrists from their restraints. The cuffs remained in place, however, and Sirius quickly fastened them together behind Harry’s back. Harry’s ankles were treated similarly, released from the bed only to be fixed together. He left then, Harry felt the bed shift as he stood, but he returned soon enough. Sirius then scooped Harry up as though he weighed nothing and carried him through to the en suite bathroom.

“Time to get you clean,” he commented.

The bath was filling with steaming water, smelling of something sweet. Sirius lowered Harry into the huge tub, before turning the taps off and climbing in behind him. The bath was large enough for them to both lie comfortably. Sirius sat at the edge, with his legs spread so that Harry could be supported between them without too much pressure put on the bruises. His bound hands pressed a little against the welts on his lower back, but not too badly and whatever Sirius had added to the water was doing a good job to sooth all the pain away.

“I’m very proud of you,” Sirius told him, “You’re coping with this extremely well.” Harry leaned his head back against Sirius’ strong chest, letting the praise sooth him as the water did. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d decided to end the punishment long before this.”

“Ending the punishment doesn’t mean you’d let me come,” Harry replied.

“True,” and here Sirius’ hand brushed over Harry’s imprisoned cock, “but at least I wouldn’t be teasing you so much.”

“I know what I did hurt you,” Harry said, “and I’m willing to accept whatever punishment you see fit.”

“I don’t doubt it, given what you’ve already accepted.” His hand ran gently over some of the more painful welts. “I know you hate that paddle.”

“I hate disappointing you more.”

“I love you, Harry. No matter what you do, that will never change.”

“I love you, too. No punishment will change that.” They lay in silence for a long while. Sirius’ arms wrapped around Harry, comforting and protecting. When the water was finally too cold, Sirius carefully eased himself out of the water. He rested Harry’s head and shoulders against the edge of the bath so that he could float in the water. Harry closed his eyes and let the cooling water lap about him as he heard Sirius drying and dressing.

Then arms scooped Harry out of the water, wrapping him in a large towel and carrying him from the room. Harry opened his eyes in curiosity as he realised they weren’t just going back to the bedroom. He didn’t ask, not after Sirius’ talk on patience earlier. He just waited, finding himself carried to the dining room.

Sirius lay Harry face down on the dining room table, folding the towel to form a pillow. He left Harry’s hands tied behind his back, but undid his ankles only to refasten them to the legs at one end of the long table.

“Well,” Sirius said, “I can see what I want to devour.”

Harry wished he could see what Sirius was doing, because soon he was putting things all over Harry’s back. What those things were, he could even guess. Some were small and slightly wet. There were thin strips that were laid across his thighs. Some round, hard things were caught between his bound arms and his back. Then something cold and liquid trickled between his ass cheeks. Harry tried not to squirm as a hundred different textures were pushed against his bare skin. It felt like he was completely covered by whatever Sirius was putting on there. Even his collar was used to hold something long and thing in place.

“There,” Sirius declared, “no man ever saw a finer feast.” There was a click that was the unmistakable sound of a camera. Harry buried his face into towel in shame at the thought of a record of him being held like this.

“Now, where to begin?” Harry felt the table shift slightly as Sirius climbed onto it, then hot breath touched his skin as Sirius’ face was held above him. Harry felt lips and tongue touch the small of his back, taking away what had been placed there. Little nibbles caught at his skin as well as the food, leaving teeth marks to decorate his skin along with the bruises from earlier. Harry tried to squirm away from the pain and something rolled off him, bouncing across the hardwood surface of the table.

“Hold still,” Sirius warned him menacingly, his voice low in his ear. Then the something stringy at his collar was taken in teeth and Harry found Sirius’ mouth suddenly in front of his own. They shared a kiss and the liquorish that had been serving as a second collar, Harry eating the food that was offering from Sirius’ own mouth.

Pieces of fruit were given to him, either whole or held in Sirius’ teeth so that they each had half. Roast nuts were identified as the hard things held in his arms. The strips over his thighs were fruit flavoured sweets Harry had bought once from Honeydukes; thin bands that dissolved on the tongue and left only the sweetness as an echo of their taste. Harry was a table for a banquet of sugar.
Kisses and nibbles trailed his exposed body, touching every part of him, then returning with trinkets from their explorations; gifts made sweeter by the tongue that caressed them. Harry gave himself over to the sensations, taste and touch brought together in ecstasy. If this was punishment, he should disobey more often. Occasionally, Sirius held to cup and Harry sipped at water to quench the thirst caused by the sugar he was eating. At last Sirius’ tongue ran up his ass, licking up the liquid he had dribbled there, meeting Harry’s mouth for a final kiss that tasted of maple syrup.

“We should have meals like this more often,” Sirius murmured into Harry’s mouth.

“We’d probably die from the amount of sugar.”

Even bound as he was, an aching erection pressed into the hard surface of the table, the pain that still filled his back and ass, and a bloated, sick feeling from what he’d just eaten, Harry wouldn’t have traded this position for anything.

“I love you,” Sirius told him again.

It was exactly the wrong moment for an insistent beeping to begin. With a growl of frustration, very similar to the one Harry had wanted to give all day, Sirius tore himself away from the table.

“Someone’s calling us by floo powder,” he said, surprised. “Don’t go anywhere.” The last comment was more than a little unnecessary, since Harry was still tied to the table. He was also a little worried. He couldn’t think why anyone would be calling them. No one ever called them.

He waited, his skin beginning to rise in goosebumps that were almost entirely from the fact he was naked. His ears strained out to reach for any sound of Sirius to try and determine what was happening. The trails left by Sirius’ tongue, warm and erotic when they’d been laid now, were cold now, causing him to shiver. The table beneath him, unnoticed in the wave of sensations earlier, was suddenly very hard. Harry tried to shift, but there was nowhere comfortable, even if his restraints had allowed him to move. His arms ached from the position they were held in and his back protested against the strain. Welts throbbed as his blood pumped by them. In the still dining room, his breathing was the only sound.

Confused and concerned, Harry waited.