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What he wants is outside of his control, but his awareness of the fact is slipping away from him. He has no idea how long he’s been here, suspended in light — he’s under a spotlight, the main event, every inch of him exposed, and the white-hot splash of the lights on the back of his neck, the back of his shell and spread thighs, is so similar to sunning on the dais when they were children that it’s all the more difficult to think of this as frightening or bad or unwelcome.
He is being fucked, rutted into like a — like a thing. And it feels — amazing, his whole body bright with pleasure, his cock heavy between his legs, precome dripping off it in thick beads. He can’t close his thighs; a bar has been set just above his knees to keep them spread wide. He’s given up on trying to shut them, though they still reflexively twitch whenever the person who is fucking him steps away, leaves his slit exposed to the cold air. His mouth, too, is forced open; every once in a while, someone comes to pour water down his throat, but for the most part it is just cocks on his tongue, come down his throat and painting his cheeks with sticky droplets.
There is only one person fucking him, right now, but he can hear voices — can’t see anything but vague shadows, but if he could, he would beg for them to join them, to touch him, to stroke his thighs and cock, to fill his mouth, to rub against his neck and shell and hands. The man fucking him has a fat cock, but it’s short, doesn’t fill him the way Raph needs — he won’t come like this, no matter how rough the man is, no matter that he’s grinding into Raph so hard that Raph is rocking against the ropes suspending him.
The man groans, suddenly, buried as deep as he can into Raph, and then he is coming, filling Raph like the others before him, and Raph jerks and whines in his throat. When the man pulls out, his come drips down Raph’s thigh; Raph is so full, now, that the come spills out of him no matter what, has slicked all the way down to his knees, leaves smears on the floor.
As soon as he has backed away, Raph is groaning again — if they would just take out the damn gag, he would ask the others to come over, to fill him, make him whole —
But it doesn’t take words. Already there is another pair of hands on him, petting his thighs, and Raph’s cock twitches; his body relaxes. Someone else steps up to his face, all black, a mask obscuring their identity, but that doesn’t matter, because their gloved hands are stroking Raph’s face and head, wiping away old come, and then their half-hard cock is rubbing at Raph’s lip.
When the man at his back thrusts into him, he gasps — doesn’t have time to make any noise other than that before the man at his mouth is rocking his hips into Raph, shoving his thick cock into his mouth, and he is falling further and further away from himself with each movement but he couldn’t care less —
He comes before they do with a desperate grunt. He’s come so much already that it’s mostly just his cock jerking against his stomach, his thighs shivering, his toes curling, a few droplets of come splattering on the floor.
He is grateful that the man behind him has more to offer than that — that the one at his mouth, when he comes, comes enough that it drips out of Raph’s mouth no matter how quickly he swallows it down.
*
When the drugs wear off, he is alone.
He struggles, though his whole body aches like he’s been hit by a semi — and when he does, the come drips out of him, drips thickly down his legs and onto the floor; he can feel it, heavy and hot, in his stomach, but he can’t vomit it up, can’t do anything but gag and choke on his sobs.
When they find him, they don’t say a word. They take him down in silence — Raph keeps his eyes squeezed shut tight, bites down on his tongue as soon as he can, because every move is making more come drip out of his slit. Someone on his right sucks in a sharp breath.
One of them picks him up — actually puts their hands on the back of his thighs to hold him against their back — and he puts his head against their shoulder and tells himself it isn’t Leo, that he isn’t making Leo this filthy, that he could never fail his brothers like this.
They stop at April’s, before going anywhere else — Leo carries him to the bathroom and lays him in the tub, so, so gentle, and when his hands shake too much to hold the rag, Leo takes it from him and eases it against him, wipes it all away until there is nothing left but shame.