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Days bled into each other. Waxed and waned in shades of grey that were never quite new or whole, colour void and desolate in his narrow world. Unceasing waves crashed against the monolith, brine and salt spray dashed hope across the bay, as tattered and discarded as its residents.
Sebastian sprawled on the half rotten mattress. He had spent the first month dragging it around like a prized but festering corpse to every corner of his cell in hope he would find somewhere it would stay dry. It was a futile effort but sometimes he still tried to. Not because he thought he could succeed but more of just a way to pass the time.
But there was simply too much of it. Sprawling out in front of him, an open waiting maw of nothingness.
Patience was not one of Sebastian’s virtues. There has never been enough time then. Told time and time again that one second he’d blink and his youth would be gone. Perhaps because his had never gotten to begin, guttered out before his prime. When there was nothing to rush to, no purpose for waking, no reason to grasp ahold and pull himself forward, time felt suffocatingly infinite.
Not a blessing but a curse. Sand slipped through your fingers as you tried to snatch a hold of it, or it trapped you alone in the bottom of the hourglass. Buried you alive under the weight of it.
Sebastian stared up at the ceiling, his vision swimming, the boredom crippling to his clever mind. A dementor he bred and nurtured inside his own head. He knew every corner, stone and scratch. The ones he’d made, crude drawings with a sharpened stone. He wrote stories, epic poetry about his brothers and sisters who had made the rest. Played hopscotch between their artistry, chasing memories of Anne when the torches flickered.
When had he lost that particular tether? The one that still bargained, warred with the truth and naively believed that she would come for him? And wept for his mother in the same vain.
The girl who he loved never existed, but all the same, it felt as if she died. And he mourned them both.
Not enough life lived to reflect back on Sebastian circled the drain of memories of his brief chance at life. But still even now he could not wrap his head around the mystery of how someone he’d known for mere months had altered the course of his trajectory so significantly. Or was it? And in his arrogance, he’d courted a devil and thought his quick thinking could spare him from the flames as he’d fallen into her, moon eyes like a fae trap. Convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, the scales had finally tipped in his favour and out poured his perfect solution. A tool. A treasure. A saviour bundled in the body of a lost soul so like his own. Pretty, pliant and yearning. Convinced himself that it was love.
Her residence, all but a brief fragment in his life, had been the anchor tied to his ankles which pulled him below unforgiving waters.
Sebastian scrubbed his hands over his face, itched away the salt on his skin. Half moons of dirt cresting his nails. The tattoo on his wrist a reminder, an inky burning stain and a trophy for what she cost him.
Inexplicably, despite her betrayal - she still made him hard.
Reminded him that he was still very much a man. A hot-blooded one at that. One that wanted to live, scream, rage - to fuck.
Even now, the thought of traitorous hands on his skin still made his blood thrum. His body ached with need, at the memory of her coming undone on his cock. Her climax breaking with his fist fisted possessively in her hair. It boiled him from the inside out. Made his cock twitch. Reminded him he was still alive.
Which was something easily forgotten. Sometimes he wondered if his humanity had been taken from him or at some stage he abandoned it? It wasn’t a quill or a checked coat easily misplaced or borrowed away but in some regards he’d left it long before she’d had the Auror’s cart him off to Azkaban.
Sebastian loosened the drawstring of his trousers and shucked the threadbare cotton down his thighs. Cock achingly hard arching up towards his stomach.
Yes - still very much a man. One that wanted to feel a warm body writhing beneath him again. The thunder of a heart under his palm as he made it race. The give of soft flesh beneath his teeth. Not just a body. Her body. Clenching around him as he forced orgasm after each shattering orgasm out of her. Feel her at her most alive, and he the root cause.
A spring twanged as it snapped, giving out as he sank deeper into the mattress. Later it would dig into his back. Sebastian stretched out until his heels found purchase on the rough hewn stone. He hissed through his teeth as he swiped his thumb across the pearlescent bead growing at his tip. Smeared it across the head, down his shaft. Groaned low and guttural as his head tipped back, notched between bricks the sound of his reedy laboured breaths echoed loud as he worked himself over. If he didn’t come he’d cry, until his throat was raw and his face salt slick and tight as a drum. But for tonight he would fist his cock and remember he was alive.
At some point, he had gone beyond caring who heard him. The first time he’d woken, hard and wanting he’d huddled himself into the corner. Bit down hard on his tongue until that hot rush of blood left his body cold. But even the resolve clad in iron eventually rusted, and he’d muffled the shame of his pleas of her name into his pillow. It didn’t belong in this place but nor did he. Blame bred bitterness as he tried to stifle his moans as he worked himself over. Back when he thought maybe there was something worth preserving. That he could leave this place. That he could be a man again.
But what was the point in preserving his dignity when all it did was cost him the only small pleasures he could glean from this place? What was dignity against feeling the sparked heat across his skin as he fucked his fist?
Who was he preserving it for anyways? Certainly not her. If anything the thought of how his filthy wretched hands could stain her only made him hunger. How he might dirty her skin as he cooed in her ear, ‘all the guard know you let me fuck you - fast and raw.’
He wanted her to hate it.
Hate that it was him. Hate that only he could make her feel her most alive. Hate herself for how much she loved it. Fuck her till she cried.
What would it would be like to fuck her right here? Right into this soiled mattress in his cell.
Two jailbirds cooing in the same rusted cage.
Soft planes of her body spooled out like a silk sheet that didn’t belong. Clean and untainted. Pulse fluttering in her throat, chest heaving eyes wide as she would try to wriggle free of him as she did her sins. Fear. Disgust. Lust. All those wretched things people cringe away from. All those undignified things that Sebastian craved, etched across her face.
Feel her body tremble and spasm as he pressed himself into her. Hard thrusts into her tight heat as her traitorous body trembled and clenched around his cock. Lick the soap and mallowsweet from her skin. Salt and sweat on his tongue marking her as his as he held her wrist bound above her head.
Let the guards watch. The other inmates jeer. Why should he care? Return the favour by stripping her of her dignity as she had him.
Fuck her until she was pleading for release. On all fours presenting her cunt to him. A bitch in heat with her arse in the air. Her own dignity gone, the way of martyrs. Begging him for it, her hands clawing the stones, mark scratches where he counted days as he drove into her. Beg him to let her come. Make her purr and keen for the man she condemned. Sea spray and salt tears across her cheeks as her core pulsed around him and he filled her greedy cunt with his seed again and again - until eventually it took.
Sebastian spat her name, like a curse. Foul and depraved. A filthy groan as he came hard, spend pulsing from his cock, painting his stomach soiling the hem of his shirt. He panted hard, whimpering as he continued to stroke his still twitching cock. Tried to prolong his bliss before it slipped away and took with it another part of himself that he bartered away.
A hacked cough and the sound of spit hitting the floor. “Again? For fucks sake put you dick away 216.”
“Bugger off,” Sebastian called back, voice still reedy and strained from his release. “Just because you haven’t been able to get it up since ‘93.“ An irrefutable stab in the dark when not one of them knew what year it was.
“Leave him,” another disembodied voice crooned. “I wouldn’t mind a go on his bird either.”
Her name on their gnarled and bitten tongues sounded wrong. Chewed up and spat out like bone shards between their teeth that would giveaway to infection and decay. But from the first moment he’d spoken it here he’d lost it. It didn’t belong to him anymore, or perhaps he belonged too much to this place and he was too made up of her and everything they’d twisted themselves into.
Even once he was long gone. When they’d hollowed out his core and all that was left of her with it. Dragged his lifeless body from this prison to be cast into the sea - the walls of this tomb would always remember her name.