roneal | (no subject)

The worst part comes when they find and concentrate on the spots that are already injured and bruised. It's after a dozen of guys that he stops silently praying for his ribs not to break; he's gone numb there. Only when they rip at him, yank him around, is there a new sharp pang of pain that reminds him of his body's state. It's during one of their attacks that he comes, adding his own come to theirs and the laughter that follows sounds like that of a cartoon's villain to him, just that it's an entire choir.

Then he's suddenly given a very short break and he gets giddy thinking he's finished them all off, but no. Jade has come back.

He can't see very well with sticky come keeping his eyes mostly closed and blindly follows Jade's voice and the fuzzy shapes in front of him. Dead tired, he crawls towards them on his knees. His mouth is still hanging open, not because he's looking forward to serving another man, but because any other position is too painful. Everything hurts, though especially his upper body has turned stiff. A midget seems to be hammering away at his skull, another tearing his throat apart. They're all very into their work. He'd laugh at himself, but all he manages is a gurgle.

"Ah," he says and means it's nice to meet you, but that's a far too long sentence. "Hah."

"You look tired." An understatement, as usual. Concern rises now that he gets a close look at Shinjirou; apart, none of those injuries would be very serious. Together...

But it should be nothing permanent. They have other things to worry about right now. At least Shinjirou seems to recognize him, perhaps even understand him. It's a little difficult to tell when the only noises he's making are almost-inaudible moans. "Are you able to continue?"

Nodding is easier than saying yes, so he bends his head slightly. Now that he's reached this point, what does it matter if he swallows another gulp of come. At least no one's kicking him anymore. So far. Who knows, this is another stranger after all and all of Jade's friends haven't been exactly kind, in one way or another.

He tilts his head back and pushes forward, letting the man's cock wander into his mouth and bulge his cheek out. Lids fluttering with the drying weight they're forced to hold, he slowly moves back and forth. What's always been easy for him is now something his body actively fights against. He pushes past the mental limit it sets and past the pain. His throat aches as if someone were to cut it in fine slices of meat, but he doesn't allow himself to choke on the unwelcome intrusion.

Listening to the noises he makes when he sucks and laps at the stranger's cocks, he manages to lull himself back into a state of quiet acceptance.

Jade's gaze wanders as Shinjirou works, sometimes watching his lips purse as he sucks the cock further in, other times focusing on his expression, as well as his contact's reactions. He seems pleased enough, making little noises of satisfaction as Shinjirou's tongue works against the underside of his cock. Shinjirou seems to be responding positively as well. He's still in a bad state, that much is clear even from a single glance, but he's also more relaxed than he had been.

Watching him, Jade is tempted to line up and use his mouth as well. As it is, he simply stands there, hands hanging loosely at his sides, a proud little smile in place as if he's showing off well-trained merchandise. In any other situation, perhaps he would have stroked Shinjirou's hair, but it's too filthy right now. He'll need a shower before being taken back to the house.

His contact is being surprisingly considerate. He barely moves, allowing Shinjirou to set the pace and control the depth of the penetration, nodding approvingly every time his eyes meet Shinjirou's.

But he doesn't come into his mouth. After awhile, he pulls back completely. "Get down onto all fours," he instructs. "Face against the ground."

After the other men's raw treatment, he considers this a vacation. He can take his time, find a nice rhythm, soothe himself and finds himself complacent in the end. Shinjirou's almost disappointed when Jade's friend pulls away, following until his center of balance nearly has him toppling over. He sits back, head tilted to one side, and listens to the new order; it takes him a moment to understand what's asked of him and to think of a way to turn himself over without fucking it up.

He shifts, inch by inch, until he's facing the other way. Some of the audience are still watching him. Slowly, carefully lowering his upper body, knees pushing back as he slides over the slippery floor, his attempt to obey is successful. The tiles are cool against his burning cheek. He looks over his shoulder, watching Jade, then the other man. Is he doing a good job? Hopefully. The position isn't too good on his bruised chest, bends him into an awkward wave-shape with his ass raised high and from his waist on dipping low towards the ground.

Shinjirou isn't moving quickly enough for Jade's liking, his movements slow in a way that speaks of pain rather than sensuality. He knows Shinjirou is almost at his limit, but Jade still expects better from him. He won't improve without being pushed to. When Shinjirou looks over at him, Jade frowns slightly, reproving.

A second later, his line of sight is cut off as his contact moves between the two of them. Knowing what's on his mind, Jade swiftly recovers the box meant for the plug just as the man pulls it out.

"I want you to stay like this for as long as you can," the man says, kneeling behind him. His cock is still wet with saliva, but he doesn't thrust into Shinjirou yet, just palms along the curved line of his torso with something that approaches reverence.

To a normal person, at least. Jade knows better. His contact is thinking over something, making calculations and assessing Shinjirou's performance.

The man's fingers come to a stop on Shinjirou's hips, squeezing. "And don't let a single drop of come spill out of you."

It's a relief when the plug is taken out of him. The widened opening twitches in the cool breath of air that ghosts both over it and into him. He can rest his jaw and throat, finally, though he's still unable to close his mouth all the way. Even his bones feel stiff.

Watching the man move to examine his chest, Shinjirou chews lightly on his bottom lip. There isn't a lot of pressure in the man's touch and yet it makes him nervous: He hurts and certain patches of skin are feverishly hot against the dry palm that's cupping every edge and curve. Just bruises, he tells himself, and exhales slowly.

"Yes." His voice sounds like a death rattle. Probably a bad idea to speak at all, but the need to reassure both the stranger and himself is too strong to keep quiet. His gaze becomes empty as he watches the pattern on the floor start to dance before his eyes. Pretty. "Sir."

Jade frowns again, both at Shinjirou's visible signs of nervousness and...everything, really.

He's not the only one displeased; the man slaps Shinjirou's bared ass, just enough to sting. "Focus on me," he chides, the head of his cock pressed against Shinjirou's hole. "I'll need you to tell me what feels good."

He already knows how Shinjirou reacts to pain. Now he needs to see the opposite.

None of this makes any sense. The other men were out to cause pain and they did their job well. He's gotten used to that and it didn't matter when he eventually phased out. His ass cheek burns from the impact, but he can tell it was meant to get his attention and not to add another angry mark.

Clicking his tongue with every breath he takes, he glances at the man. Whether it's pain or pleasure, it's always bad to let someone know what buttons to push ... just that letting some stranger know what feels good is more embarrassing. He nods slowly, come rubbing off on the floor. This is going to be difficult, a test. He's not allowed to come, yet he's supposed to tell the man what he likes.

The taste of impending failure replaces the one of salty and bitter seed. His fingers dig into his palms. No time to relax, not yet.

When he pushes in, he's every bit as careful as he was when he was using Shinjirou's mouth. His cock glides in smoothly, helped along by the thin layer of saliva that covers it and the slick mess of lube and come that the earlier men had left inside Shinjirou. "Try squeezing," the man coaxes him, resting one hand on the small of his back.

Face impassive, Jade watches his contact work, wishing he could slip away unnoticed. There are other things he can be doing. But Shinjirou would be discouraged, and his contact offended (he does so enjoy having eyes on him, the same way other men enjoy having soft hands and lips wrapped around their cock); so no, leaving isn't an option. With an inward sigh, Jade settles in for a wait, eyes fixed on the scene but not taking anything in.

While it's less of a challenge for his body, it's definitely one for his mind. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing as the man's cock slides into him. Inch by inch, not one straight thrust that'd rock him forward and his jaw cracking on the ground. It's good. A warm hand on his back to steady him, his gaze lingers on the man's face. His toes curl when he clenches down around the man's length, at first more of a twitch, then with a bit more force.

Shuddering, he pushes back. He doesn't need to say anything, he thinks. It must be obvious to any observer, but undoubtedly for the man who's buried within him, that he likes this. The slow burn of his body getting accustomed to the girth and weight. On the other hand, the pleasant intimacy throws him off. He releases a sharp breath and lowers his eyes. His first time would have been a lot easier, had that guy treated him more like this.

And that isn't a thought he should be thinking.

"I could take you home with me," the man hums, with a pleasant smile that Jade doesn't trust. He doesn't start thrusting until he's certain that Shinjirou had adjusted, and even then, he's still slow and careful, trying to work Shinjirou looser and at the same time seeking out his sweet spot. "Easy now. Do you like this?"

As if he needs to ask. Jade schools his features into neutrality, resisting the urge to sigh. He knows his contact enjoys showing off; he just had no idea how bad it is.

No, Shinjirou thinks, you couldn't. Unless Jade decides to sell him which he doesn't want to think about. Jade may be hard to read, but at least he's sort of gotten used to Jade's antics. He doesn't want to start over, not in the mental state he's in by now -- he's accepted this too much and he appreciates the bit of freedom he has, though he fears that if anyone decided to take it away, he'd happily accept that, too.

"I do."

Tasting blood and come, he chews on the inside of his lips and cheeks. Anything to distract himself, anything to muffle his voice. He's successful with that and the only noise that gets out is a drawn-out sigh when the man finally starts moving. On the other hand, he can't prevent the shuddering, the fresh sheet of sweat when his body heat flames up.

His contact seems oblivious to the impatient stares of their audience, but Jade knows he's getting off on it. Being forced to watch is a little irritating, but at least Shinjirou puts on a good show, his reactions just obvious enough to be satisfying, and subtle enough that they seem genuine. Unconsciously, Jade finds himself leaning slightly forwards, drawn into the spectacle despite himself, trying to work out what would happen next.

His contact shows no sign of speeding up. He's still moving slow and lazy, making sure that Shinjirou can feel every inch of his cock with each thrust. The sweat makes his hand slip a little - he tightens his grip, blunted nails just barely digging into Shinjirou's skin. "Still good?" He asks, a flawless imitation of a concerned lover.

The defiant part of himself is slowly but surely getting closer to the surface. Biting down on his tongue may look like he's trying to push a moan back. In reality, he's forcing himself to swallow a definitive no. It'd be a lie that no one would believe in anyway. It's better for a million reasons if he's being a good boy and whispers, "Yes. Yes."

The fake intimacy makes his stomach turn more than once. Except for his tied-up state, this is closer to what he imagines making love would be like than simple sex. He doesn't need that. Hell, he doesn't deserve that. Writhing on the floor, he stretches his neck as if to get away though the pull isn't strong enough to wriggle out of the man's hold. His cock, pressed up against his stomach, twitches each time the man gets the angle just right; he doesn't want to come and he isn't allowed on top of that.

What's going to happen if he can't stop himself? Punishment, maybe. And that sounds sort of tempting at the moment.

"Easy," the man mutters, but he doesn't try to forcibly restrain Shinjirou. Neither does he speed up. Gently, he reaches out to brush his fingers against the back of Shinjirou's neck, a small gesture of comfort. "Easy," he repeats. "Is this too much? Should I stop?"

So he's determined to keep showing off, Jade thinks, his irritation not quite fading. But this is a good test of Shinjirou's abilities, though he's a little wary on that front as well - he knows Shinjirou well enough by now to sense the pliant, obedient mask beginning to crack.

It makes him tense (he has too much riding on this particular contact, and his own reputation will be at stake if Shinjirou turns violent), but he keeps his face blank and impassive. Inwardly, he wonders if there's a way to signal Shinjirou to work faster.

His head snaps back, catching the man's hand between neck and shoulder. No, he doesn't want all these soft touches. The superficial sympathy. But -- Jade brought this man to him. It's not a random guest. He must be important in some way or another. Very briefly, Shinjirou glances at Jade. His attention returns to the stranger within a moment, though.

"No. Please." Tilting his head, he rubs his face against the man's fingertips, tongue darting out from time to time. "Don't stop."

To prove he's being sincere, he squeezes the man's cock, pushes back. An invitation to go deeper, a plea for more. Using his mouth is still difficult and begging would be more painful than simply embarrassing. This is all he can do: move. And he does, rolling his hips in time with the man's slow thrusts.

The disappointment hopefully won't be as bad if he comes despite being told not to; not as bad as if he cursed the man and kicked him.

A few of the remaining men laugh at the show of docility, and so does the man fucking Shinjirou, although it's more of a low, pleased noise than a true laugh. "I won't," he promises.

When he thrusts in again, it's a little faster this time, a little deeper. It seems like he's satisfied with Shinjirou's actions. Jade would nod encouragingly, but that's too obvious - the best he can do is incline his head slightly, a brief, very tiny smile flickering across his face the next time Shinjirou looks up.

Like this, it doesn't take too long for the man to finally come. He only really speeds up in the last few seconds, rocking shallowly but rapidly into Shinjirou until he comes with a soft exhale. Another second to catch his breath, then he gives Shinjirou an encouraging pat on the back as he pulls out.

"That was good." He seems barely out of breath. "Thank you. I hope I'll be seeing you again soon."

They're all harpies, he thinks, picturing their expensive shoes turning into dark claws digging into the floor the more excited they get. The image is a distraction and he can't get distracted now. There's only one man he's meant to serve at the moment. Ignoring their laughter, he allows himself to moan. Razor blades in his throat break his voice, no matter how quiet the noise he makes.

It's too gentle. It's good. And he nearly forgets at some point that this is just work, catching the man's gaze and fixating him -- even when he's remembered that he's playing the sort of whore that the guy wants. The flush of his cheek, hidden underneath a layer of drying come, and the twitch of muscles, everyone will be able to see that, but he doesn't fight it for the man who's currently buried inside of him, and for Jade. Not for any of the others.

In the end, it doesn't even seem to matter to the man that a drop of pre-come has appeared on the tip of his cock. Shinjirou sighs quietly, closing his eyes. "I hope so, too." Not.

The man pats him again, carefully avoiding any come stains. "I'm sure your master can arrange something." He glances up, and Jade takes it as a cue to step closer.

"We can discuss that later," he says, calm despite the heady rush of success.

"Why not now?" The man suggests, buttoning himself back up. Carefully, he fits the plug back inside Shinjirou before standing up again. "I'll come back to visit, so stay like this."

He walks away. There's no time to speak with Shinjirou; Jade gives him one last concerned glance and a quick nod, then swiftly follows after his contact. From the corner of his eye, he can already see the audience beginning to circle, vultures closing in on a feast of carrion. Even from this distance, he can see the matching look of hunger on their faces - none of them are going to be gentle, he thinks.

There's nothing he can do except trust that Shinjirou can endure the abuse. He has too much to do before the party ends; it's not until the last few guests trickle out that he finally returns to where Shinjirou is stationed. His contact had already left almost half an hour ago - apparently he had been lying about coming back to see Shinjirou.

For a few seconds he just watches quietly, assessing Shinjirou's state.

None of the men are anywhere close to gentle. In the beginning, it's a relief. No playing pretend, no holding back. They laugh when he chokes on their cocks, when he sobs and writhes. Over time he forgets about Jade's odd friend. There's too many who push into him, fill him up and cover him in their come. At one point it feels like he's lost consciousness for a bit, but he isn't sure of that.

He's melting in their hands until he's completely mellow and tame and his body heat is too intense to feel any pain. How often his body contracts around their cocks and splatters onto the floor he doesn't know -- he's never empty and perhaps he never stops coming either. It's only a few drops after the first few times, then nothing at all.

The last guy props him up against the wall after noticing that he can't hold his balance anymore. That's nice. Shinjirou smiles up at him, the man's sticky mess dripping down his chin. Then he's alone. The plug isn't big enough any longer to keep him shut, almost slipping out of his messy hole.

Belatedly, Shinjirou notices that Jade's back. He glances at him, arms flexing. Now that there are no bodies to keep him warm, he's getting cold and the pressure of bruises blossoming under his skin has returned. He sits upright, favoring one side to the other, breathing in a shallow rhythm. And he watches Jade, waiting for some sort of comment. Approval, disappointment, anything.

Shinjirou looks... Jade can't even find the right word. Filthy. Used. Fragile. Frankly, he's amazed that he's still responsive.

Jade doesn't let any hint of judgement show on his face; none of this is Shinjirou's fault, rather, all his disgust is directed at himself. To Shinjirou, he only smiles encouragingly, crouching down in front of him. His coworker was right. He is sick, sick enough to find Shinjirou's state fascinating, sick enough to still be curious about Shinjirou's breaking point.

None of this is news, exactly. All the more reason not to wallow in his guilt.

"Your throat must be burning," he comments. "Don't talk. Do you want anything to drink?"

It's easier to look at Jade now that they're on the same level. And Jade looks happy. Sighing, Shinjirou drops the smile and spaces out for a few seconds during which all he does is stare at the floor. Still, he is listening to Jade and his words make sense, just not immediately. When they finally do, he blinks and nods. Water, good old water. That'd be great.

It'd also be great to be free again. Crawling around like a captured bird has been an exciting experience, but now he desperately wants to cover himself. Not to hide from Jade. Mostly from himself.

He leaves Shinjirou bound for the moment (he looks disoriented enough without overwhelming him with new sensations), and goes retrieve a thermos flask from his bag.

"Drink slowly," he warns, raising it to Shinjirou's lips and gently tilting it down. The water inside is still warm. Carefully, he wraps an arm around Shinjirou's shoulders to support him, uncaring of the way it immediately dirties his jacket. It can always be cleaned later.

At first he's hesitant to open his mouth, even turns his head away. Having something poke his lips triggers the fear of more pain. Though noticing that it's just a cup of water, he begins to sip. More than once he stops without warning, or rather seems to forget that swallowing is an integral part of drinking, and water spills over his chin.

Each time someone walks past them, he gets distracted, eyes following the movement. Once the cup is empty, this gets worse and he ends up openly staring at people. Never at their faces, only at their feet. Raising his head is too exhausting.