Bang & Blame [Larry Stylinson]

Chapter Two

Dried come on his lips and chest, bleary eyed, Harry wakes to Parker looming over him. He scoots back against the headboard, already tense, but Parker reaches out and gently rests his palm against his cheek.

He holds out a cloth. "How about we get you cleaned up?"

He doesn't wait for Harry to respond, like always, but he's gentle as he wipes the come from Harry's face. He drags the warm cloth down his chest to clean the grime off his skin, and then he tosses the flannel to the floor and slings an arm around Harry's shoulders to pull him close.

"You know I love you, don't you?" Parker murmurs to him.

Harry nods. "I know. I love you, too."

"I know you do, baby." Parker squeezes him, but it feels suffocating, and Harry can't breathe. "You're never going to leave me, are you?"

Harry doesn't answer right away, and Parker's once gentle grip on him turns rough.

"Are you, baby?" he asks again, bite to his tone this time.

Harry shakes his head, a little frantic. "No. I'm not going to leave you."

"Good boy," Parker says, but it doesn't send shivers of pleasure down Harry's spine the way it did when they first got together, that summer night a year ago.

Parker kisses him on the temple, and it's enough to distract from the way his nails are digging into Harry's arm. He drops his head against Parker's shoulder, a sigh escaping his lips.

"I'm coming to work with you," Parker tells him, and Harry's heart sinks.

"What?"

"I'm coming to work with you," Parker repeats, laughing dryly. "You think I took the morning off just to be with you? No, I'm going to make sure you get that slut to quit."

Harry frowns. "Her name is Candace, and she's not a slut."

"I don't care what she is, she's still going to quit. You're mine, Harry. I'm not letting her take you from me." The biting of Parker's nails is back, and Harry hisses. "Now get your ass ready. You know I hate it when you're late."

"Yes, sir," Harry whispers.

He waits long after Parker has retreated from the room to move from the bed. He dresses quickly in clothes he knows Parker won't hate (that blue hoodie Parker gave him on Christmas), and then he enters the kitchen to make the two of them breakfast.

He's walking with a limp. Parker must have gone rougher than he remembers.

"What are you making me?" Parker asks, looming behind him. His presence is suffocating.

"Eggs?" It comes out as a question rather than a statement, and Parker presses closer, fingertips digging into his hips.

"You better make them taste good, baby," he warns, punctuated by the pressure of his fingers on his skin. "I'm going to take a shower. They better be done by the time I'm out."

He disappears down the hallway, and Harry feels a weight lifted from his chest. He still can't breathe. He hasn't been able to since he met Parker.

It's a never ending cycle that he doesn't know how to escape.

-

No one is surprised to see Parker trailing behind Harry when he enters the library. Their fingers are intertwined, but Harry wishes someone could see the way his hands are trembling. Going out in public with Parker is liking screaming in a sound proof box. No matter how loud you yell, no one picks up that you're trapped, no one saves you. You can't get out no matter how hard you try.