First there was the crash, then the sound of splintering wood as the door of Loz's bedroom collapsed in on itself. Before he even had time to react, or reach for the pistol on the nightstand, the light was switched on and the hulking form of Barret loomed over him. "What the fuck?" Loz shouted, confused and half delirious from sleep. It was all he could manage before a steel hand clamped down around his face, forcing his mouth shut. With another hand on his shoulder, Barret forced the man, squirming and half-naked, out of bed, his knees making impact with the floor as he was forced to his feet.
"How did you. . . What's . . . Oh God!" He barely had a chance to spit the words out before Barret smashed the side of his face down onto the desk, splitting open his lip and nearly cracking his cheekbone. Bent low and fully realizing what was to come, he cursed and tried to push himself up and free of the vice grip that pinned his skull. As he did, he felt his arm twisted and pulled, the shoulder dislodged from its socket. His arm fell limp and useless at his side, twitching but unable to properly move, let alone put up a fight.
Careful to keep his head and neck pinned, Barret reached for Loz's boxers, pulling them half down before ripping them away entirely. A meaty hand fondled his pale, muscled buttocks as he cried out, "No! . . . Please no. . . please. Just . . . please don't!" All that answered him was the sound of a dropping zipper, and a knee pressed between his thighs, forcing his legs apart.
"You're just a little kid, aren't you?" Barret finally said, "Just some fucking little punk." As he spoke, he palmed the back of Loz's head, dragging him up before slamming his face back down onto the desk. "I'm gonna make you scream like a little bitch," he shouted, forcing the engorged and angry length of his cock into Loz's rectum.
Loz screamed and tried to form words, but all he could manage were horrified, inarticulate sounds. His shredded lip bled with every attempt, the warm blood pooling around his face, obscuring his vision into shades of red. Drawing in a ragged breath, he nearly choked as Barret retracted, only to breach his body again. A wave of fresh pain traveled up his spine, causing it to thrash and contort violently, as his flesh and muscle tore, splitting and oozing blood, overripe with the unnatural mass inside. "Don't you fucking move!" Barret bellowed, putting and end to his unwilling partner's convulsions with a fist to the base of the spinal column. Every sinew in the younger man's body seemed to contract and tighten, causing him to cry out in pain and Barret to grunt in primal ecstasy.
Every time he tried to disconnect himself, to pull away from the pain, some new and violent surge dragged him back. All he could imagine were his innards, splayed across the desk, his body impaled and defiled. With every thrust and pull, he felt his intestines uncoil, organs ram-rodded straight and forced into one another. Loz closed his eyes, muttering incoherently, something that sounded like pleas or prayers. Whatever the words were the sound caused Barret to lean forward, and whisper in his ear, "What's that you're saying, punk? Speak up!" He shouted, as he bit down hard on his lobe, tossing his head back and forcing another scream as the ear nearly ripped off.
The minutes and seconds crawled by, seeming to stretch themselves outward into eternity. Loz's world had turned in on itself, spinning and collapsing, just as his body seemed to devour its own bowels and burn itself away from the inside out. Finally, with a feral roar, and guttural grunts like some wild boar, Barret spewed a massive wad of searing jizzum from his bloated fuck-bludgeon, deep into Loz's rectum. As Barret pulled away, Loz gingerly tried to push himself upright, gasping for breath. He turned around to face his violator, supporting his weight against the desk on his good arm. Tears welled in his eyes and stained his cheeks as viscous blood and semen oozed down the backs of his legs.
Words took ages to crawl back to him. When he was finally able to speak, all that would come out was a sob-riddled, "How could . . . why? . . . No fucking way. . . ." Barret zipped up his pants and smirked baring white teeth. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and approaching Loz placed one between his scab covered lips, lighting it before turning to leave. Just as he exited the door, he turned, blowing Loz a mocking kiss, "Sweet dreams, punk. You're a fucking great lay."
Loz stood in place for a long time, shocked and horrified. Slowly he made his way to the bathroom, turning the on the shower. He stared at his reflection in the mirror as he waited for the water to heat, but his damaged arm, half-torn ear, and discolored, swollen face didn't matter. The water in the shower was almost scalding before he finally stepped in, barely registering the sting across his flesh as he sunk to the floor, head back against the wall.
Tears fell freely once more as he scrubbed himself violently, trying to shed his skin, rip it clean off his body. His body was raw all over as he watched the water swirl down the drain, carrying with it caked blood and musky sweat of the man that had so terribly wronged him. Trembling with fear and anger, he knew he would have to explain this all to his brothers, there would be no way around it. In the morning, they would ask, and they would keep asking until they got the truth. They would understand. Wouldn't they have to?
But that was a matter for the morning. Tonight, he didn't want to think about it, he couldn't think about it; and yet, he could think of nothing else. All he could do was lay there and pray that the water would burn it all away.
