He really didn't like to be addressed, not unless it was in his room, and that meant it was going to be about something technical. Only certain people went in his room, his room was for the most parts an off limits ground and that's why he stayed in there so much. It was a like a safer little box for him to crawl into, where it was all wires and nothing really touched him apart from –her-. Out here in the corridor, well…open grounds. If they wanted to pick on him they mostly could. Of course, they hadn't touched him for a while now, just thrown the occasional intimidation act, stepped too close, made him feel uncomfortable, but he'd thought he'd finally become off limits. Right now those dreams of being untouchable seemed a little dashed, because he doubted he'd been stopped to fix someone's computer. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments between the question and answer, eyes down, hair forward, ankles together and palming the edge of his shirt again to stop himself sweating.
"Yeah, I'm sure you can. Come here."
He finally lifted his eyes, if only enough to catch the appearance of the man asking him to come over. He was a tall, broad, Latino looking man. Tattooed up one side of his neck with Tribal, and the tell-tale MAMA heart on the other side, indicating his alliance. Alex had one of those too; it was fainter, because he didn't get it re-done every so often like the other men of the clan, but it was there, inked into his skin by backstreet tattooists. It was the only tattoo he had, and the only one he wanted, for that matter. The other guy looked covered in them, but then most members of any clan were, and if you thought THIS clan's stamp mark was bad and obvious (always on their neck), they you should see the 'Judged'. They took clan stamping to a whole new level.
He obeyed the command after a moment's hesitation and took a few steps back down the corridor towards him, against every fibre of his being telling him not too. This wasn't going to end with anything good and he knew it, but he also knew if he didn't go over there they'd make a personal vendetta out of his disobedience and they'd get him sooner or later; and that would be worse. He knew how it all worked, and if you didn't have any means of self-defence then you just had to endure being picked on. This was his lot, but the clan gave him somewhere to be; a home, and they provided him with cred for food. He didn't have any other choice than to be right here now, so being picked on was how it was in his life for now. He guessed that was the circle of life anyway, wasn't it? The smaller animals are jostled by the stronger, but they also offered the smaller one's the food they couldn't hunt for themselves.
He tried to keep his eyes down and hidden from sight as much as he could, aided and abetted by his lank red hair forward in his face. No doubt the changes were obvious. Even if he'd been passed out for days and not hours, the redness around them must still be obvious. You didn't get your eyes gouged out without a little swelling and discolour afterwards. He might even have bruising under them, on the delicate skin below his eyes and on his cheeks, but he still hadn't glanced in a mirror yet to check, and nor had he touched his face. He was scared to touch his face.
The Latino raised his arm over the techie's shoulders in a gesture of mock friendliness, knowing how much the redhead hated to be touched by them, and forcefully lead him inside room 7,999. Inside there were about 7 or 8 other members, all lounged around the edge of the room in chairs, bean bags and on couches. The walls were once wall papered, but that wallpaper now sported graffiti all over it in multi-coloured spray paints, all gang signs and names. The tables were all littered with smoking trays, glasses of whatever the heck and empty brown bottles that probably once held alcohol, and mixed into these messes were now used slowmo inhalers. In the centre of the room was a little table, on which were a few unopened bottles, and a small pile of unused slowmo inhalers. Alex really didn't want to be here.
He'd looked up briefly to note the number of people in here and winced. He'd hoped for a few less but it could have been worse. He was sat down in one of the individual chairs amidst the gathering of all-male members and a brown bottle shoved into his hand. You'd think maybe it was a welcome gesture of 'let's hang' but he knew better, this wasn't about making him feel one of them. It never was. This was about him being the gatherings latest entertainment. The Latino guy looked muscled enough to snap his neck like a twig so he didn't reject the drink, despite not being much of a drinker. He raised the bottle to his lips slowly and upended it. The strong and slightly over powering taste of cheap beer hit his tongue and he swallowed abruptly, lowering the bottle and coughing, earning a little chuckle from the room. He rapidly placed the bottle aside on the closest reachable table, one sip was enough.
"Was'matter, ya don't drink much, pretty boy?"
Pretty boy?! The name would have made him wince if he'd been brave enough to display his distaste for it. It certainly made his stomach churn. They'd done the stepping closer act a few times but the mockery had never been quite as obvious as the nickname 'pretty boy'. It put his nerves on end even more than having his personal space invaded, because at least they backed off after a few moments, but those words hung in the air like a promise now. This guy specifically thought he was pretty? Probably not, he hoped not, but finding him pretty had nothing to do with their intention to cause him grief. They still knew he'd never make any formal complaint. You didn't complain in a clan, you just took what was given to you and got on with it, and he knew that by now. There was no complaints line but he also knew if she found out about this, she wouldn't be happy. He didn't have the nerve to try and set them up, so he just went on as it was. He finally looked up to him, body subtly trembling but he was hiding it well under baggy clothes.
"Not often."
Indignance in his voice; but he couldn't let the question hang without an answer or they'd pursue one. He really was in a room of drugged up, drunk animals. As he spoke he could see the other guys eyes focus a little more on him, like he'd just noticed something and he knew what that was. Were his eyes that alarming? The Latino guy was hunched over him and leaning him back hard into the back of his seat in seconds, hand pressed to Alex's chest to make him tilt back as far as he could. His breathing picked up in alarm, head resting back against the back of the chair and making his hair fall out of his face. The other guy's dark brown eyes were alight with curiosity and interest now that the new eyes were very displayed for him, and Alex squirmed under the proximity. He'd do just about anything to get out of this right now.
"Hey Fella's, come take a look at this!"
Yeah, like he needed more of the brutes crowding around him, but a few did push up (Probably the only ones coherent at the time and not tripping on Slowmo), and sauntered over to take a peek. They exuded just as much delighted enthusiasm to his appearance, so whatever his eyes looked like must be quite startling. Every time a new face came into his vision, that same blue highlighting box registered them. That was unusual and irritating for him but right now it was pretty low on his 'give a shit' scale. He wanted home, away from being a freak show for these guys. He held still though, breathe fluttering in his chest that was currently heaving a little. He had to admit their reactions to him made him a little curious. What DID they look like?
That thought flew out of his mind though, not having said anything since he'd been backed up in his chair, when proximity got even more uncomfortable for him. He'd been so busy registering the amount of faces being shoved in his that he'd barely noticed the hand on his chest initially move. When it reached his navel he registered it, and it was still traveling down. Down over an un-toned, young but flat stomach, onto the pronounced hip bone where his trousers hung just below. The Latino man's thumb traced the curve of the bone there and dipped slightly into the groove of his groin, rubbing his skin through his trousers on his left hand side. He swallowed deeply in his throat and arched a little in discomfort, breathing now becoming more erratic. This as easily the worst case of mockery they'd made him suffer so far, it had never gotten quite this psychical.
"Ya know, I like big eyes on a girl."
A girl; he was being compared to a girl, just brilliant! He held as still as his squirming would allow, trying not to upset his assailant into anything more violent right now. If this escalated he'd talk, probably nothing but begging and asking them to stop but more would certainly prompt him to talk. He didn't fancy any more pain than he'd recently suffered. Of course 'IF' was a stupid word to use; of course it was going to escalate. One of the other men rose his hands and clawed his red hair back off his face and shoulders more, exposing increasingly paling skin. He wasn't the average looking Red-head. He didn't bare the stereotypical amass of freckles, but instead had flawlessly milk-pale skin, made more evident by flaming orange hair that was the same across his whole body, including his eyebrows. Once upon a time he'd had pale blue eyes to go with it, but his new eyes seemed to evoke a reaction of equal pleasure.
He swallowed again, looking up momentarily to the member making sure his expressions were visible. This guy wasn't Latino, he was white with pale green eyes and ash blonde hair. He had less tattoos than the Latino guy but they were still there. Alex mused that if this guy didn't have the built, lean muscle he did he'd probably not look too far off how Alex looked. If the techie had any inclination to become one of 'them' he might have tried to build some muscle, but with how he was he didn't even know where to start. He didn't have a 'tough' streak and he didn't desire to have one either. His realm was the virtual one and he didn't want to be a thug. That wasn't the boy his momma had raised.
He was distracted for only a moment with the second guys appearance, about to move onto studying the others when he felt that thumb breach the edge of his belt line and run skin to skin under the rim of his underwear, trousers dipping to allow the violation. His hips bucked automatically in protest as he felt the proximity of that thumb to personal spaces. Aside from it being unwanted, it tickled like mad. His eyes shot to the assaulting Latino hovering over him with his thumb pressed in his groin area, body now shaking far more visibly. He didn't know how effective begging would be, but he didn't have much else going for him except to inspire pity, which these men didn't have a lot of.
"Please. Please don't…"
Was all he managed, begging the other guy to stop touching him like that. That didn't seem much like mockery any more. It was going further than it had since the actual broom closet incident. He'd not seen that gang member again since, but then there were a lot of them. This guy was doing an effective job of replacing him though. All his words seemed to do was amuse them, earning a soft chuckle from one of the guys above and behind him, looking down. He was surrounded by animals. The Latino guy seemed just as amused, but he didn't offer a chuckle, merely an amused smirk on fairly handsome but intimidating features.
"Don't stop? D'ya hear that boys? She likes it."
There was no point in arguing with that comment but he still repeatedly muttered a slightly panicked "No no no" in response, struggling a little in his chair now. More laughter issued above him. His adrenaline was picking up fast now and he wanted to run, he just didn't fancy the chase or the possible beating that would come if he wasn't quick enough to get out of their grip. Speaking of grip, his struggles earned him a restraining. Two of the men above him took painfully hard holds on his wrists and locked him down in his chair, leaving him with nothing but his heavy breathing and arching. This was getting out of hand now. The ring leader glanced up to his associates with nothing short of sadism in his eyes now.
"Shall we see what else she likes?"
That earned a slightly squeaky complaint from him and more struggling, now realising this was about to go far further than mocking. Not again, please, he really didn't need this right now, not directly after his eyes. He'd barely gotten through the shock of that and now this? Part of him wondered if fate even meant for him to survive, because if it wasn't one thing it was another right now. He prayed above all other things that his mom wasn't sitting up there and looking down on this. He felt a little sick, dizzy even at the prospect of what might be about to happen, and this time there were a room full of the bastards! That Latino one intended to touch him, and what…with the others watching? Whether or not he kept those noodles down he'd eaten earlier would remain to be seen.
He felt the buttons go on the front of his cut off trousers, before both those and his underwear were yanked down to his mid shins, exposing him. The Latino guy seemed to straighten up a little as he looked down on him a moment, revelling in Alex's humiliation. All he could do was stare up at the ceiling and try to ignore what was happening to him, try to push down the nausea and shame he was feeling sitting in that chair with his pants down round his ankles in a room full of junkie thugs. He didn't make eye contact with any of them, just trying to get through this with as little damage as he could.
"Well, well, men, Looks like we've got a boy after all."
Yeah, no kidding. He bucked again as he felt a hand running up his inside thigh, and he instantly wished he'd locked his knees together but he suspected the muscles in those arms would be enough to pry them back open even if he did. By now he'd sussed begging and pleading wasn't going to get him much. He was used to being smacked around, intimidated, even having knives shoved in his face but this agonizingly slow humiliation was unbearable. When he felt hands on him he protested verbally again, but it got him nothing but a harder touch. Who was this guy kidding? If he thought he could make Alex like this he was wrong. No amount of being handled right now was going to invoke any sort of arousal from him, if anything it was going to make him sick.
This seemed to prove amusing to the men above again, and by now he was shaking harder. He arched and swallowed, half wishing this abuse did something for him so he could at least offer them some satisfaction, maybe they'd stop if he got off on it, but he didn't; couldn't. He couldn't even bring himself to fake it convincingly so he didn't try. His reactions didn't seem to satisfy the Latino in front of him, who looked distinctly unimpressed with the reaction to his efforts. He really didn't want to upset that guy further but he couldn't force himself to like this. He was terrified and that usually put a downer on potential erections, and aside from that he just really wasn't into the men who had him. He didn't really contemplate his sexuality much, he wasn't even sure he had one, but he knew for sure he wasn't 'feeling' any of these guys. His dark eyed assailant looked up at his face a moment before up to the other men, who rapidly stopped laughing when they noticed his displeasure.
"Wadda'ya say boys, hit him with a little Slowmo?"
Alex's already alarmingly big eyes widened to that. He'd never touched the stuff and never planned too. He looked horrified at the idea, chest rising and falling hard as he watched the other guy lean over to the little table in the middle of the room and pick up one of the inhalers. He shook it, before turning back to him intently and leaned up, having to lean slightly between his legs as one of the other men took a handful of his hair and yanked his head back against the chair so he couldn't move it. That inhaler came up to his mouth, and if he thought closing his mouth wouldn't just make him push it on his lips until they bled he'd have done that. The dispenser was placed almost caringly between his lips, and Alex closed his eyes hard as it was delivered in a shot of slightly sweet tasting vapours.
Oh fuck no.
