It was a soft sound, like a moan. Graves considered heading back downstairs and leaving Credence to it—clearly he needed some privacy—but the distressed murmuring and grunting that followed was enough to pique his concern, especially as that moaning started up again. He rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door.
"Credence?" he called. "Did you fall in?"
"No," came the quick response, though the word was stretched out the way that children do when they're up to something they shouldn't be. "I'm just—uh—I'm fine."
"You sound like you're hurt," Graves pressed. There were only so many things a person could be doing in a bathroom that could cause those noises and some of them were a legitimate cause for concern.
There was quiet on the other side of the door for a beat. Graves heard one of those little sounds again.
"I'm just—I'm having trouble... going," Credence admitted. Graves could imagine his ashamed face and the flush of his cheeks. Though it wasn't something commonly spoken of, Graves had a good enough understanding of No-Maj culture to know that one's bathroom habits weren't something to talk about, and even romantic relationships rarely became "open door." He wondered what Credence would say if he knew about the old way that wizards did their business before plumbing.
"Can I come in?" Graves asked. "Maybe I can help."
"It's... it's embarrassing."
"It's nothing I can't handle."
Graves opened the door leading into the small bathroom. There Credence was, sitting on the toilet with his modest penis tucked down between his thighs and his shirt pushed up under his armpits. His usually thin stomach was swollen and looked sore, especially with the way that Credence had one arm folded around his middle while the other guarded his penis from sight. Graves couldn't put a reason to it; he and Credence had seen one another naked more than a time or two.
"You're constipated," Graves said with a sympathetic click of the tongue, as if Credence didn't know. "When was the last time you were able to go?"
Credence bowed his head with shame, playing with his long fingers nervously. "I think... about a week ago?" He blinked his eyes shut when Graves' hand came to rest on the top of his head.
"You can get sick holding it in like that," Graves informed him with the slightest tone of parental scolding. "How often do you usually go?"
"Um," Credence stammered, wracking his brain. "Once every three days? Unless I... unless it's... loose."
"Not eating right," Graves muttered, more to himself than Credence. "Should keep you here for every meal. Clearly that woman isn't giving you what you need if you're only using the toilet once every three days."
Credence winced slightly at the way Graves said "that woman," but otherwise didn't protest. He certainly knew better than Graves did how little food there was to go around at home, especially with the Church subsisting off of donations. The Barebones family ate the same as the orphans they fed did, and Ma insisted that they be grateful for it. Food was less important than faith was—no man shall live on bread alone, but on every word from the mouth of God.
It turned out that God's words didn't provide much fiber.
"You know, even No-Majs have remedies for this," Graves said as he perched himself on the edge of the bathtub. Credence looked at him, then around the bathroom and up at the ceiling, his face flushed, but did not ask him to leave. His worn-out shoes squeaked a little as he curled his toes within them.
"I know that," Credence mumbled. "It's just that... I would have to get it from my ma, and she..."
"And she?" Graves pushed once Credence had paused, leaning over his aching stomach and wincing. He flushed all the way to his ears when he broke wind, turning his face so that Graves could not clearly see him.
"S-She... Something happens, when I—it's not like I enjoy it, when she... helps me, but..."
"You get an erection when you take an enema," Graves said patiently, finishing his thought for him.
"Y-Yes," Credence admitted quietly, nodding. The hand guarding his crotch pressed his penis more firmly downward, as if punishing it.
"That's natural," Graves said with a shrug. "Expected, I would say."
"Ma doesn't think so," Credence said. His tone was as close to irritation as he was capable of, the sort of irritation that a person feels when they know that they are right but are helpless to do anything about it. "She thinks it's sinful... Incestuous. She thinks that I... you know... because of her. But that's not it! It just—happens."
Then, Graves imagined, a beating would come, all from an unavoidable physical response. Graves would never imagine how the No-Majs got by being so prudish. "Alright," he sighed, swatting his own thighs lightly with his hands. "Come here, boy, and let me help you."
Credence froze for a moment, not seeming to comprehend what Graves was asking of him. Then, tentatively, "Are you...?"
"Like I said. It's nothing I can't handle. Though you might want to take your trousers off all the way."
Credence seemed to consider this, going over his options in his head. He could let Graves help him or he could suffer for Lord knows how much longer, straining and grunting and getting nowhere, and potentially winding up needing care from his foster mother. Slowly, he stood up and toed out of his shoes, along with trousers and underpants, though he remained dressed from the waist up in his rumpled button-down and tie. He approached Graves slowly with his hands clasped in front of himself, hiding his prick from view, though Graves already knew quite well what it looked like. Credence looked shy, ashamed, his eyes focusing down on the tiled floor and only occasionally looking up through his lashes to gauge Graves' expression.
Graves gently took Credence's clasped hands and kissed his knuckles on either side, drawing a soft breath from the younger man. Graves looked up at Credence's face and the two of them shared a half a smile before Graves was once again patting his lap.
"Come here, face down," he requested. Credence shuffled forward and draped himself over Graves' lap, his hips tilted enough that he could hold himself steady with hands flat on the floor, though he was tall enough that he had to bend his knees a little to keep himself on Graves' lap. He moaned a little as Graves' thighs added pressure to his swollen belly, prompting Graves to part his legs enough that he could reach underneath and stroke Credence's aching stomach. Already, Graves suspected that this might have been gentler treatment than Credence received from his foster mother. Despite this, Credence held himself as rigidly as if he were awaiting a lashing.
Graves ran his free hand down the length of Credence's spine to his tailbone, then back up. His other hand kept occupied rubbing soothing circles on the younger man's stomach, occasionally pausing to dip his fingertip into Credence's navel, making him shudder and moan. Graves could already feel the bulge of Credence's cock against his thigh, though he drew no attention to it and Credence made no excuse for it. After several minutes of this, Credence finally relaxed, letting his head dangle down toward the floor, eyes half-lidded.
"I'm going to cast a couple of spells on you," Graves began slowly. It was best to inform Credence of everything that was going to occur to keep him from panicking. A wizard's method of dealing with this sort of ailment was a bit different than an enema bag and a length of tubing dangling from the bathroom door. Graves made a half-moon gesture with his hand and in a flash a pot of petroleum jelly had been summoned from the bedroom to his waiting hand. "But first I'm just going to check your bottom, alright?"
Credence made a sound that was half an acknowledgement and half a whimper. Graves opened the pot of petroleum jelly and dipped two fingers into it, slicking them up before parting the cheeks of Credence's ass with his dry hand. His hole was clean enough—clearly he hadn't managed to get anything out. Graves took a moment to gently rub the lube in a circular motion around Credence's hole, the cold slick making the younger man jolt.
"Ah, Percival, that's dirty," Credence gasped, lifting his head to look over his shoulder, his face burning red. Graves chuckled softly, already beginning to work a finger into Credence's ass.
"No dirtier than it was a few nights ago," he reassured him. At that, Credence let his head fall back down, gasping as Graves worked his fingers inside of him. Even at the entrance, Graves was met with resistance. Credence was truly full to bursting, and the dry lump that Graves could feel was only the beginning. He grimaced at the thought of his poor boy suffering rather than the realization that he was touching shit; his time as an auror had prepared him for blood, death, bodies blown clean apart by the worst of all curses. Poo wasn't even worth batting an eye at.
"There's some that has to come out before we can start," Graves said apologetically. "This might hurt a bit. Breathe in for me."
Credence drew in a shaky breath, slowly. Graves slipped his fingers alongside the mass he could feel lodged inside Credence's ass and curled his fingertips a little.
"Now breathe out." Credence obeyed, beginning to exhale slowly, only to cut himself off with a keening wail as Graves began to pull the shit from his body. His socked feet curled helplessly against the floor and his knees bent instinctively, though Graves' arm around him kept him pinned to the older man's lap. His erection flagged against Graves' thigh, too shocked by pain to stay hard.
"Careful," Graves warned. "I need you to relax or else it's going to go back up."
Slowly, Credence unwound in his lap, his heavy breathing slowing as he convinced himself to relax. The hand that had previously been holding him against Graves' lap had resumed petting him up and down his spine, soothing him as if he were a dog afraid of thunderstorms.
Once Credence had relaxed enough that his asshole was no longer making an attempt at gnawing Graves' fingers off, Graves said, "Good boy. Now breathe in and bear down a little." Credence nodded and drew air into his lungs before bearing down with a low grunt. It was slow work, but soon Graves' knuckles had slipped out past the pink ring of Credence's hole and pulled free an impressive length of dry shit that hit the floor between the young man's knees with a heavy thump. The foul smell of it was proof enough that it had been inside the boy for quite a long time. Graves only let it linger for a moment before vanishing the mess and silently casting a cleaning charm on his messy hand.
Though Graves didn't look the least bit rattled, Credence looked as if he were going to shake apart into a million pieces. He lay trembling over Graves' lap, dazed, sweating and panting hard. Graves tucked a hand underneath the boy's throat, pulling his head back a bit and watching him blink reflexive tears off of his long eyelashes.
Graves wanted nothing more than to kiss his reddened face but he still had a job to do. In lieu of kissing him, Graves murmured, "Good, good boy," and thumbed his asscheeks apart. Credence's little hole winked with his breaths and soon allowed a small, squealing fart to slip past. It was progress.
"E-Excuse me," Credence whispered, though he seemed to have given up on punishing himself for his reactions. There didn't seem to be any room for shame left in him, too overwhelmed with the relief of being free of at least some of the weight dragging him down.
"You're excused," Graves teased, gently. "I'm going to roll you over now, love." Credence said nothing but allowed Graves to turn him over gently, now lying on his back across Graves' lap. Graves tucked a hand beneath Credence's shoulders and hefted him up into a sitting position, wrapping one arm around him to tug him close. Credence hid his hot face in Graves' neck, his breath trembling across the skin there. Graves placed a hand on Credence's belly, starting to massage it in circles again. It was still just as swollen as it had been before—surely there was plenty left inside him. Gently, he slipped his hand along the young man's lower belly and palpated it gently, able to feel the shape of another large mass trapped inside him and then some.
"Do you still need help?" he asked. Graves wanted to at least give him the opportunity to decline if he so wished. He slipped a fingertip into Credence's navel, gently pressing in, and listened to the younger man moan softly. His stomach gave a little whine and Credence shifted, letting out a small fart. Graves felt it against his thigh and his cock gave a curious twitch.
"Yes," Credence whispered after a beat. His face was still tucked against Graves' shoulder as if he were hiding, though the intimate closeness of their bodies seemed to have progressed to something erotic, especially with the way Credence's arms wound around Graves' shoulders and his fingertips hypnotically brushed through the short hair at the nape of Graves' neck. He pulled back after a moment and swallowed before glancing up at Graves' face. "You said that you would... do some magic?"
A smile tugged at Graves' lips. "Lie back," he said, and eased Credence down so that he was lying supine, balanced between Graves' arm and lap. "Pull your legs up as close to your chest as you can."
It took Credence a moment to get his bearings but then he was lifting his slim legs up, setting the heels of his feet against the bathroom wall. In this position, it was easy for more gas to slip out, accompanied this time by the smell of raw waste. Credence murmured another apology, going a little more red in the face. Graves waved it off along with the odor.
"This is a bit of a two-parter," Graves explained. "The first spell will soap you up. The second spell will add water. I'll even cast them verbally, so you know when to expect it."
Credence nodded. He seemed more relaxed now than he had been earlier, possibly comforted by the knowledge that Graves truly wished to help and wasn't going to shame or beat him. His cock had perked back up, lying sweetly against his stomach. Graves resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. There would be plenty of time for that later.
"This one is going to be uncomfortable for a moment," Graves warned as he prepared to cast the first spell. Credence breathed in, then out, and murmured a soft, "okay." Graves focused very hard on exactly what he wanted to do; he rarely had a spell misfire at his level of skill, but now would be the worst time for it. He moved his hand in a loose "S" pattern and commanded, "Scourgify."
From the wail Credence made and the further swell of his stomach, it quickly became obvious that the spell had done its job. Credence panted rapidly and whimpered like a hurt animal, sweat dampening his dark hair as his guts were filled with harsh soap. Graves felt a sharp pang of sympathy for him; he could remember lying over his mother's lap as a boy and crying out as burning pain roiled through his insides only to be soothed by the blessed flow of water. The water was the hard part to tolerate with the old red bag method but when it came to this, anything was better than the soap.
"Shhh, I know. It'll be over in a moment," Graves said. "Aguamenti." With that incantation, a thin stream of water spouted from the palm of his hand, flowing effortlessly into Credence's bottom. The young man hiccuped and coughed as the pain of the soap was soothed by the warm water, blinking tears from his eyes. He allowed himself to rest back as Graves withdrew his arm from underneath Credence's shoulders, using that hand instead to massage Credence's belly, working the soapy water through his guts, breaking up the blockage.
It seemed as if the only sounds Credence could make were moans and whimpers—moaned as the water flowed into him and whimpered as cramps hit, causing Graves to momentarily stop the flow of water and massage him more firmly. Occasionally Credence would tilt his head up to look at Graves with wonder, although Graves didn't know what he had done to deserve it. He somehow suspected that Credence's foster mother didn't treat him with any regard for his comfort during moments like this. No wonder Credence had chosen to hold it for so long instead of ask for assistance.
Graves' method of administering the water was vague at best when it came to measuring the volume. He shushed Credence gently each time the young man panted that he had to go and instead urged him to take a little more. Graves decided that it was enough only when Credence clawed at Graves' thighs and sobbed that it was too much. The stream of water grew thinner and shorter over a few seconds before it was gone entirely, leaving Credence trembling with the effort of holding it in. Graves pressed the pad of his thumb to Credence's quivering hole.
"You did well, Credence," Graves said, reaching to pet the boy's hair. Credence whined and squirmed in response, toes curling, thighs tightening. "How do you feel?"
"Really full," Credence gasped. "Percival, please, I need to—"
"Not just yet," Graves said. "Ten minutes."
Credence couldn't seem to control the impulse to fidget and squirm all over Graves' lap as he struggled to hold in the enema. Graves swore to himself that it was only a natural response that his cock stirred in his trousers, pressing up against the source of lovely friction. He wasn't the only one in that state, luckily; even though he pleaded and whimpered for a release from the discomfort, Credence's cock was flushed red and leaving little wet smears on his skin each time the head brushed his abdomen.
"You could pay some attention to this if you need a distraction," Graves suggested as he took hold of Credence's hand where it was clinging to his arm. He guided it down to the needy cock between Credence's thighs, encouraging him to wrap his fingers around it. Credence flinched at first as if his own skin had burned him—Graves suddenly realized that he had never seen Credence touch himself in that way—before tentatively taking himself in his hand.
"There you go," Graves hummed. He looked down at the young man spread out on his lap, observing him. He looked dazed, as if overwhelmed by the sensations within his body and the feeling of his own hand on his cock. Surely he had never touched himself like this, not if his foster mother was watching. Graves watched Credence pinch his eyes shut and bite his lower lip, flushing from his ears down the length of his neck as he stroked himself.
Graves did his best to stay true to his duty even as his little lover squirmed into the sensation of his own hand. Graves checked his timepiece every now and then, which had autonomously started a countdown from ten minutes, and gently pressed his fingers against Credence's stomach, guiding the water along the serpentine twist of his intestines. Occasionally he massaged him through a cramp, though Credence seemed almost entirely distracted by his own task. It took more willpower than Graves thought would be necessary to stop himself from thrusting up against Credence's body to satisfy his own need.
As his pleasure mounted, Credence's head fell back and he breathed in soft little gasps with each stroke of his cock. He seemed so close to the edge, ready to release, when suddenly he was jolted by the sound of Graves' timepiece informing them that it was time for a different sort of release. Graves helped him to stand, careful not to jostle him.
"Go," he urged, nudging him toward the toilet. The prompt wasn't needed—Credence dropped onto the toilet just in time to release the first gush of water without even needing to push, instantly relieving the painful edge of pressure in his stomach. He felt dizzy with his eyes closed, his focus drawn entirely to the sensation of voiding. He only opened them when he realized that Graves had moved closer, standing in front of him as Credence expelled the enema, and realized at once that Graves' erection was tenting the fabric of his pressed slacks right in front of Credence's face.
As the next wave of water sprayed out of him, Credence's painfully hard cock jerked and spurted pearly cum all over Graves' trousers and shiny shoes, his back arching with the ecstasy of the mixed sensations.
"Oh—I'm—I'm sorry, sir," Credence panted once he had come back into himself. Graves chuckled and vanished the mess from his clothes before reaching out and cupping Credence's hot face in his hands.
"You're a mess," he murmured as he ran his thumb over Credence's lower lip.
"Yes, sir." Credence turned his face into Graves' touch, hungry for it, kissing the inside of his wrist. He felt Graves' thumbs stroking beneath his eyes and, after a moment, dared to look up at his lover's face. "Can I—can I have you in my mouth, Mr. Graves? As a thank you, for taking care of me."
Even as his face pulled into a slight scowl, Graves groaned, his cock jerking in his pants. "You don't have to thank me like that," he said.
"I want to," Credence whispered, already reaching out for Graves' belt.
Graves had never been given a blowjob while his partner emptied their bowels, but there was a first time for everything. Credence closed his eyes as he worked, working Graves over with his tongue and soft lips. Graves could feel the change in Credence's breathing as the majority of the water flowed from him and he was required to push the rest of the blockage out. His brain considered being disgusted for only a moment as Credence bore down but any disgust he might have felt was rapidly overridden by a sense of excitement sparking in his belly, especially as Credence's throat flexed with a low grunt and a load of heavy shit hit the surface of the water in the toilet.
His sigh of relief trembled down the length of Graves' cock and his sweet eyes flickered up to give the older man a shy look. Graves' hands went to Credence's jaw, holding his head gently between his hands. "Feel better now?" he asked. All he received was a muffled 'mmhmm' in response before Credence had begun to bob his head again.
"Mister Graves," Graves articulated, allowing his thumb to follow the shape of Credence's cheekbones. He smirked down at the young man beneath him, running his thumb down the bridge of Credence's nose. "Why is it always 'Mister Graves, sir' when you're feeling randy? It makes me think you have a fetish."
Graves chuckled at the way that Credence's brow furrowed as he looked up at him, the glance expressing the same sentiment as a playful swat on the arm. Credence pressed his way down until his nose was pressed into the coarse hair surrounding the base of Graves' cock, breathing through his nose slowly to suppress a gag, before pulling all the way back with a wet pop, drool streaking his chin.
"Should I just call you 'Percy'?" he asked breathlessly, quirking his head to the side in mock innocence. Graves growled lowly and took hold of Credence's hair, pleased to see that the boy didn't even flinch.
"Get back down there," he commanded, though his words were gentled by a certain softness. He pressed Credence's head back down just slowly enough to prevent him from choking. Credence sucked like a nursing calf and when Graves finally surged his hips forward with a grunt of satisfaction, Credence swallowed greedily until he was gently pushed away.
Panting quietly, Graves tucked himself back into his pants as Credence wiped saliva from his lips.
"Well," Graves said. He reached out to cup Credence's cheek, his thumb affectionately brushing under the young man's eye. "Shall we take this to the bedroom?"
Credence nodded, gaze dreamy, and took a moment to clean himself up with toilet paper before standing. Almost as soon as he had risen to his feet, he paused, and quickly sat back down in time to release another wave of water. Graves chuckled and gently pinched Credence's reddening cheek.
"I'll leave you to it then," he said and left the bathroom.