Three

Christopher watches in mute horror as Thomas forces himself down Michael's throat. Tears stream down his brother's face as he struggles against Thomas, his body useless against him. His throat bobs up and down as he swallows the precum, his lips moving back and forth. Every time this happens, Christopher is forced to watch. He's seated on the throne, bedecked in their mother's jewelry and face painted a garish white, helpless as his brother gets raped in front of him. What kind of a life was this?

Disgust fills his every being, yet he can only mouth curses at Thomas. His brother looks at him helplessly, his pink curls splayed across his face. Eventually, Thomas pulls away and releases on Michael's face. He holds Michael for a few moments, looking at his tear-streaked face with a cold smile. And then he lets him go, allowing Michael to uselessly fall onto the floor. Michael gasps for air, gagging at the taste in his mouth. His chest shudders with each breath, tears still trailing down his face.

Thomas turns to Christopher and slowly walks towards him, as if he were a child abandoning a toy for a better one. He ignores Christopher's appalled expression and strokes his cheek. Don't do this...for the love of God...Please don't do this... mouths Christopher. He's replied by a sweaty kiss on the lips and strong hands standing him up. Thomas's fingers crawl down his back, undoing his stays. Stop it! Stop! Christopher lets out a hiss of frustration and shifts his weight backwards. He would rather fall and risk a concussion than be degraded like this again.

Not expecting such force, Thomas's support loosens and Christopher is released from his grip. As if time has slowed down, Christopher can feel every inch of his descent. Down...down...until his head thuds against the cushion of his seat. He winces in pain but looks back up at Thomas in defiance. No, he wouldn't allow himself to be reduced to some much abused toy. Surprise passes by Thomas's face. Then anger. A dark expression fills Thomas's eyes, his mouth pressed into a firm line. When he speaks, his voice is low and menacing. In the background, even Michael has stopped crying.

"How dare you reject me?" hisses Thomas.

Swiftly, he rushes towards Christopher and wraps his fingers around his thin neck. He squeezes, causing a choked gasp to escape from Christopher.

"Was the orphanage not enough for you?!" roars Thomas as he throttles Christopher.

Only a choked exhale answers him, Christopher's eyes filling with tears. The words that Christopher attempts to mouth are ignored. What little his body can do to struggle is firmly held back.

"I am your master!" snaps Thomas as he releases Christopher.

He strikes Christopher across the face, earning a gasp from Michael. The blow stings Christopher's cheek, bringing more tears to Christopher's eyes. Before he can take in a deep breath, Thomas slams his head against the marble floor.

"All I've done for you...feed you...clothe you...entertain you...and I get paid with this?!" he snaps.

Christopher can hear the pearls wrapped around his head snap, the individual beads rolling away. He can feel his tears trickling down his cheeks, taste the blood in his mouth and the urgent need to breathe. Yet all he could do was struggle uselessly with what remained of his body, now so much like a worm's. I'm sorry, he mouths weakly, feeling Thomas's grip relax. He takes in a grateful shuddery breath of air. I'm sorry.

"You're nothing but a doll. And I am your master," says Thomas coldly.

What did Christopher do to deserve such a thing? His gaze flickers to Michael, who has resumed crying. What did they both do to deserve such a thing?

He feels Thomas's hands roughly lifting him up and pushing him against a wall. He swallows hard and looks at Thomas with a plea in his eyes. Yet his hands continue to move emotionlessly down his back, roughly undoing the laces. When he pulls the dress off, Christopher struggles against it, the fabric catching in-between his shoulder and the porcelain arm. Thomas continues to pull, causing waves of pain to cascade throughout Christopher's body. He feels the porcelain being separated from his flesh and lets out a soundless scream, his body shaking with pain. Realizing what was happening, Thomas roughly yanks the sleeve away from the groove and does away with the rest of the dress.

The rest of his clothes are undone in quick succession. In no time at all, Christopher is bare of everything save for a pair of stockings. He feels Thomas's hand run against the back of what remains of his thigh and shivers. Briefly, it pulls away and he hears the sound of a tube being squeezed. Biting his lips, he closes his eyes and tries to keep the tears at bay. What did he do to deserve this? Stifling a cry as Thomas's fingers enter him, Christopher feels himself being pushed even harder against the wall. He's been bent over, Thomas's hand on his hip. There was something possessive in that grip and that fact missed neither of them.

Tears of humiliation sting Christopher's eyes. What Thomas was doing was disgusting. The way his fingers moved inside of his flesh disgusts him and he wants to scream. But he no longer has a voice or Thomas's respect. He tries to think of other times, other places, but his mind keeps on returning here. Not even thoughts of Kaito can keep Thomas out. What was his friend doing anyways? Hasn't he grown worried? How long had he been missing anyways? Kaito tended to communicate with him on a weekly basis. Yes...maybe Kaito would save him. He's quickly pushed back into his current situation when the fingers pull out. He swallows hard, not wanting any of this but forced to accept all of it.

When Thomas enters him, Christopher lets out a sob. He feels his tears dampen the cold walls, his cheek forcefully pressed against the wallpaper. If only he could die. Back and forth. Back and forth. When would this madness stop? Thomas's breath brushes against his cheek, sending shivers down his spine.

"Cheer up, both of you..," murmurs Thomas. "This will be one of the last times I'll play with you like this. The next doll will be specifically made for...such things."

Christopher's body grows rigid. A new doll? Of flesh, like him and Michael no, they weren't dolls. They weren't. Where would Thomas have even found them? No, it must be one of those realistic, silicone dolls. It couldn't have been another person. The thought of Thomas making love to such a thing repulses Christopher almost as much as Thomas forcing himself on his brothers. Thomas's hand strokes Christopher's cock and immediately, Christopher stiffens at the unwanted contact. A chuckle bubbles up from Thomas's throat.

"Clearly, you haven't learned to obey your master. Perhaps I should play with you more."

No. He would do anything for this to be the last time. Taking in a deep breath, Christopher bites his lip and allows his body to move into a rhythm with Thomas. One last time. One last time . Then it would be a piece of silicone's turn. Yes . He tells himself the same words again and again, trying to believe it. But he has never been good at lying to himself. The new doll would have been a person once. Of flesh and blood. But who?

Soon after, he feels Thomas finish inside of him. Withdrawing, Thomas zips up his trousers and flips Christopher over. A pitiful smile graces Thomas's lips. A thing once so proud was now reduced to a tear-stained wreck. Eyeliner runs down Christopher's cheeks and stray locks of hair cover his face. He couldn't even look at Thomas directly, his eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. Gently, Thomas's brushes his lips against Christopher's wet cheeks.

He picks Christopher up and heads towards the door.

"Let's get both of you a bath."