More blood, thicker and less viscous this time, ran down his face, stuck in the gaps between his teeth. “Open your fuckin’ mouth.” He did as he was told, and within almost the same second he was gagging on Ryan’s dick. He was trying to remember how to breathe when fingers began to feel around the waistband of his jeans. He wriggled away as best he could, though with his face buried in another man’s pubes, escaping was more than difficult. He was slapped, quite viciously, against the back of his head. Pulled off of Ryan’s dick for just a moment so those same hands could tear off his shirt. They reached around his waist at the same time that Ryan buried himself in his throat again. He retched, and was sure he was about to vomit as his jeans were pulled off. He was left only in his socks, and as he began to think of this as some sort of escape, the sensation of burning leapt up his spine, bounding from bone to bone.
One of the men was pressing the cherry of his cigarette in even intervals up his spine, atop each little nub of his vertebrae. He arched away from it and whimpered, gasped for air and heaved wetly when Ryan pulled out to watch flesh blister and burn. “Smells like shit,” he said, raking his fingers roughly over Sonny’s scalp. Burning hair and burning flesh filled Sonny’s nose and he continued to arch away and retch, arch and retch until he was thrown onto the ground. “Stay down.” Ryan rolled him over, onto his back, brushed the sole of his boot down the centre of his stomach, nudged at his flaccid cock with a small, disapproving noise. “Not enough for ya, Sonny boy?” He pressed downwards, sharp and hard, and Sonny cried out, tried to reach down and shield his testicles. His wrists were snatched by a man who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, standing over his face, cock out, precome dripping. A bead of the musky liquid dropped onto his face, mingling with the blood and tears there. His legs were pushed up, and the man who had been standing over his face slid beneath him. He was sandwiched between Ryan and the stranger, who was breathing heavily against his ear, rubbing stubble along his jaw. The man who had been burning him with the cigarette was standing off to the side, with the other three, all of them lazily jerking off. He heard a foil packet rip open, and opened his eyes to watch Ryan roll a condom down his length. At least he could be thankful for that, he supposed. He felt the man behind him do something of the same description, confirmed by the latex-clad warmth pressed against the crease of his buttocks.
And suddenly Sonny wasn’t there any more. He was with Joel, in his arms, and they were watching a movie - Up. Joel had laughed at him for wanting to watch it but Sonny had niggled it out of him. Joel was crunching popcorn obnoxiously in his ear, but it made him smile, made him nuzzle deeper into his embrace. When he was with Joel, everything was perfect.
He was brought out of his fantasy as Ryan began to work his way into him. The pain had Sonny tense and unmoving, back as straight as a rod. He sniffled, made a little noise, and squeezed his eyes shut, as tight as he could. Back to Joel, back to Up. Back to watching Meowingtons eat, listening to Joel mimic the little boy in the movie in a high-pitched voice. It wasn’t working. He wanted to be sick. His stomach was rolling deep in his gut and his heart was breaking. Joel wouldn’t want him after this. Joel wouldn’t want someone who was too weak to fight off his attackers. Sonny cried quietly as Ryan began to fuck him in earnest, grunting out phrases that had Sonny cringing. “Like my cock in your pussy, slut? Yeah. Yeah. Your little cunt fucking loves it. Yeah.” Sonny tried to curl up, but his head was pulled backwards by the man behind him, who was shuffling around to awkwardly press the head of his own cock against Sonny’s already straining hole. He shrieked, then, the first proper sound he’d made since their threat of cutting his throat.
Love you forever. (2/4)
“Open your fuckin’ mouth.” He did as he was told, and within almost the same second he was gagging on Ryan’s dick. He was trying to remember how to breathe when fingers began to feel around the waistband of his jeans. He wriggled away as best he could, though with his face buried in another man’s pubes, escaping was more than difficult. He was slapped, quite viciously, against the back of his head. Pulled off of Ryan’s dick for just a moment so those same hands could tear off his shirt. They reached around his waist at the same time that Ryan buried himself in his throat again. He retched, and was sure he was about to vomit as his jeans were pulled off. He was left only in his socks, and as he began to think of this as some sort of escape, the sensation of burning leapt up his spine, bounding from bone to bone.
One of the men was pressing the cherry of his cigarette in even intervals up his spine, atop each little nub of his vertebrae. He arched away from it and whimpered, gasped for air and heaved wetly when Ryan pulled out to watch flesh blister and burn. “Smells like shit,” he said, raking his fingers roughly over Sonny’s scalp. Burning hair and burning flesh filled Sonny’s nose and he continued to arch away and retch, arch and retch until he was thrown onto the ground. “Stay down.” Ryan rolled him over, onto his back, brushed the sole of his boot down the centre of his stomach, nudged at his flaccid cock with a small, disapproving noise. “Not enough for ya, Sonny boy?” He pressed downwards, sharp and hard, and Sonny cried out, tried to reach down and shield his testicles. His wrists were snatched by a man who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, standing over his face, cock out, precome dripping. A bead of the musky liquid dropped onto his face, mingling with the blood and tears there. His legs were pushed up, and the man who had been standing over his face slid beneath him. He was sandwiched between Ryan and the stranger, who was breathing heavily against his ear, rubbing stubble along his jaw. The man who had been burning him with the cigarette was standing off to the side, with the other three, all of them lazily jerking off.
He heard a foil packet rip open, and opened his eyes to watch Ryan roll a condom down his length. At least he could be thankful for that, he supposed. He felt the man behind him do something of the same description, confirmed by the latex-clad warmth pressed against the crease of his buttocks.
And suddenly Sonny wasn’t there any more. He was with Joel, in his arms, and they were watching a movie - Up. Joel had laughed at him for wanting to watch it but Sonny had niggled it out of him. Joel was crunching popcorn obnoxiously in his ear, but it made him smile, made him nuzzle deeper into his embrace. When he was with Joel, everything was perfect.
He was brought out of his fantasy as Ryan began to work his way into him. The pain had Sonny tense and unmoving, back as straight as a rod. He sniffled, made a little noise, and squeezed his eyes shut, as tight as he could. Back to Joel, back to Up. Back to watching Meowingtons eat, listening to Joel mimic the little boy in the movie in a high-pitched voice. It wasn’t working. He wanted to be sick. His stomach was rolling deep in his gut and his heart was breaking. Joel wouldn’t want him after this. Joel wouldn’t want someone who was too weak to fight off his attackers. Sonny cried quietly as Ryan began to fuck him in earnest, grunting out phrases that had Sonny cringing. “Like my cock in your pussy, slut? Yeah. Yeah. Your little cunt fucking loves it. Yeah.” Sonny tried to curl up, but his head was pulled backwards by the man behind him, who was shuffling around to awkwardly press the head of his own cock against Sonny’s already straining hole. He shrieked, then, the first proper sound he’d made since their threat of cutting his throat.