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II winces, shifting uncomfortably where he sits. He’s trying not to be obvious with it, so scared that Vessel or IV will pick up on why, that his shame will be exposed.
He knows they won’t, logically. There’s no way they could, nothing that could possibly lead them to even suspect- Unless his trousers fall low and the strap shows a voice in his head reminds him that II hastily works on shutting down.
They won’t. He’s not going to let that happen and either way, he’s started wearing longer shirts just in case. As much as it turns his stomach wearing III’s clothes helps. The other man is so much taller than him that everything is easily covered and it has the benefit of keeping III happy.
Has the benefit of III not trying to put him in anything more feminine.
He should be able to stand up to III. This shouldn’t be happening. But God, he’s weak and all it takes is an idle threat of telling the others to kill any protest II might have.
It started out as shame, he doesn’t want them to know. He’s not out to them and he doesn’t want them to be. The fear has twisted though, he never thought III would treat him like this but as soon as he found out he started treating II differently until they reached where they are now- What if they react the same?
They wouldn’t. He’s sure they wouldn’t. He was sure III wouldn’t though so clearly that means nothing and he’s too much of a coward to risk it, he can just about handle III acting like this, if the others do it too he thinks he’d shatter.
It’d be easier if he could shatter now. He wants that escape, he wants the freedom of being so utterly broken, he wants to be numb to it.
He’s not and he’s not sure he ever will be.
Well, maybe he is a bit. III’s hands are around him, thumb rubbing circles on his upper hip that, from anyone else would be soothing but from him reads nothing more than a threat, and somehow II is wet.
Somehow his little cock is poking against the too-tight fabric, showing what a failure he is.
Showing what a slut he is.
God. He knows he shouldn’t still be calling it his cock, knows he needs to get into the habit of calling it his- his clit. He hates doing that though and even if he’ll get into trouble when if III finds out, he doesn’t care.
He’s had so much taken from him. He can’t lose this too.
It’s ridiculous to care so much about terminology and underwear but it’s all he has.
His underwear was the first thing he was able to control in his transition, it’s not like anyone checked what he was wearing there so he was safe to wear what he wanted, what fit him.
That being taken from him makes him want to shrivel up.
He tries to engage with what’s going on around him, the others are all talking but all he can focus on is the digging sensation in his crotch, he can’t not think about that, he knows III purposefully gave him something too small so that it’s all he’d be able to focus on and he hates how well it’s working.
Hates the fear of the straps breaking. He knows if he ruins them in any way III will get mad even though he’s the one that got them too small.
Sometimes he’ll even get mad when he’s the one that tore them off II, he’ll blame II for being too tempting, for purposefully trying to whore himself out.
He hates when III says that, when he calls him a whore. It makes all the gifts III gives him so much more loaded.
Usually, they’re gifts to torment II, makeup he doesn’t want, clothes that make his skin crawl, jewellery that makes him regret ever getting pierced in the first place. They still leave a bitter taste in his mouth.
Or, maybe that’s just the leftover taste of III’s cock. Of the way he’ll force II to suck him off before he gives him these items.
Further proof of what II really is.
His skin crawls as his mind spirals and subconsciously he curls into himself as a way of self-soothing, unfortunately, due to their angles that means he curls into III and despite the man being the cause of this pain, he does find some comfort in it.
Vessel and IV clearly notice that II’s not feeling his best and both men excuse themselves from the shared room, II doesn’t notice until they’re halfway out and then panic sinks deep.
They’ve left him alone with III.
He knows they have no idea, that he’s purposefully not told them, but bitter betrayal rises in him anyway.
III’s on him almost instantly, pulling II’s trousers down and shoving his underwear to the side, and just taking a moment to stare.
“Good girl,” III purrs, his eyes are dark with arousal and II knows he’s staring at his hole, at how wet he is before III’s even done anything to him.
It’s easier to focus on that than the words III speaks.
III’s not bothering to undress or even get himself off and that makes II squirm more than anything. Sometimes III does this, he doesn’t care to get himself off he just wants II to remember the control III has over him.
He wants II to remember her place.
Fuck.
Every touch of III’s is on purpose, to show him what his body is really for, of what he really is.
II just wishes it didn’t feel so good. III’s hands are long and skilled and reaches places inside that II’s own fingers can’t possibly get to. He knows II’s body too and plays with him skilfully.
It’s far too short a time before II’s climaxing, showing proof of just how well III knows him, “That’s it baby, just ride through it. Your pussy is so pretty angel, look at how wet you are for me.” III coo’s at him.
Wave after wave of pleasure shoots through his body and it’s all wrong, this isn’t how he wants to experience it but he also doesn’t have a choice. He can feel slick leak from him, down III’s hand and he whimpers in embarrassment.
He’s such a mess and he hates it, hates how good III makes it as he carries him through, thumb applying the right pressure to his clit and fingers crooked at the perfect angle.
It feels so good and II wonders if he’s drowning.
When he’s finally done he’s a panting mess, III pulls his hands out II’s tight hole and wipes his hand on the inside of II’s thigh before he rearranges the lingerie so it’s back in place and pulls his trousers back up before moving them back to the position they were in before.
II knows how wet he gets and he wants nothing more than to go to the bathroom and wipe himself off. He can feel it now, the way the too-thin fabric is doing nothing to stop it and his inner legs are sticky. He feels revolting.
III won’t let him move though, he keeps his arm firmly wrapped around him, II’s head laying against his chest, and puts the TV on. It’s a disgusting charade of a happy relationship and bile rises in II’s throat.
He fantasises about pushing himself off, going to wipe himself down and finally telling III No. Telling him he won’t let this happen anymore.
He can feel more than hear III’s soft laughter as he strokes behind II’s ear as if he knows exactly what II’s thinking and shame floods him. It’s a nice fantasy but that’s all it is, both of them know it’ll amount to nothing.