It wasn't as if Tarzan weren't used to waking up to the dark. His sharp eyes could adjust just fine to the violets and ultramarines of the pitch black forest of the home he'd left behind just fine, his careful eyes conscious to the details of residual light left behind by the moon in his wake on the brightest nights.

Though probably not as well as the others could in bis troop, it served him well-enough.

But he could see nothing here.

Absolutely…nothing.

Even as he opened his eyes and blinked once, twice, trying to see if perhaps they just needed time to adjust, but with each successive attempt, the result was largely the same; black, endless black, of the underbelly of the ship, just as dark as it ever was.

And that terrified him.

In fact, the young man uttered terribly in his mind as his body came to, sensations reclaiming his senses in a rush of familiarity despite his voided sight, instinctively he knew that he wasn't safe, though that much should have been evident. At the sudden sound of scampering, of chittering, around him,Tarzan pulled himself up from the moist wood beneath his head where he'd been left, and scanned the perverse dark to no avail.

He wasn't so sure what he expected, feeling stupid at having tried despite knowing that it would make little difference all the same.

He figured there was little point trying to find out where he was or what his surroundings looked like at all, at least for the time being. That much he could figure out later, but it was hard to not at least be curious, his sensitive nose shrinking in disgust at the curdling scent of rotting, wet wood, and sea wash that brushed up against the exterior of the ship. There was an awful humidity that clogged his lungs, sticky crudely to his throat with each moment that he rested here, and immediately, as if washing away any desires he'd had before, there was something violent and cold that washed over the man as his eyes scanned hopelessly in the dark. But something that caught his attention was the sound above and around him…of pouring rain. A distant crack of righteous thunder startled him, rattling the wood and metal frame of the ship as the waves threw him from one end of his cage to the other before calming again.

He was certain it hadn't been raining, much less full storming, when he'd first been dragged down here.

Just how long had he been out for?

Tarzan couldn't tell, of course, from the light of the outside world beyond the belly of the ship, what, with any and all cracks that might have allowed a sliver of light to be perceived all but vanished from sight down there. No matter how hard he looked and wished, there was nothing to indicate the passage of time.

So he couldn't even know if Clayton and the rest of his lot had left yet, but it was probably safe to assume that they had if he's been out long enough for the weather to change from the overcast light of the evening to the burgeoning storm of the present.

No, there was no doubt about it.

They likely would have already made landfall.

Or worse...if they'd managed to find his family back on the shore.

But no sooner than he'd thought it, he fought to throw the thought from his mind.

'Can't think like that. They will be okay, they'll be...fine. They...they'll be fine.' He thought, stirring a bit more as he went to peel himself from the ground, coming to a sit that would at least allow him to remain upright. He noted the numbness of right arm, chalking it up to having laid on it for so long. His left hand rubbed at his arm, remarking the stiffness that had taken their place in his bones during the long lapse of his consciousness after they'd given him...that stuff from the sharp thing, the name of which he didn't know. However, he wouldn't have much time to consider it much as the man flinched at the feeling of his skin of his bare end on the wet wood, and he realized just as quickly in vague memory that...he'd been left nude.

Well, only half-nude, he could recall, noting the lack of pants or the undergarments Jane had given him before, and just thinking of her name made him feel...something he hadn't felt before. It never even occurred to him that she would...leave him like that. There was a sense of pain that rose in his chest at the memory of it, of her...just standing there as they took him away, as they left him down here...and that that had been her plan all along.

Even though every part of him wanted to disregard it, to say it wasn't so…he only had to look around at the nothingness around him to be reminded of the reality of his situation.

And just as much, be reminded of the terrible pain that rippled in his heart.

Tarzan gritted his teeth against whatever this sensation was.

He didn't know what it was callee.

He just knew it hurt.

And it just occurred to him that this was probably what his troop felt, knowing that he'd…left them at the mercy of the very people he'd told them to trust.

Ironic, right?

Another wave of stupidity, washing over him with an abject bitterness he couldn't deny…not that he didn't deserve to feel this way.

But it didn't remove his desire to leave.

It made him want to leave and never come back.

He didn't care about seeing other people now . He...he just wanted to go home.

And he was going to find a way to do just that.

He just...had to figure out how to.

Leaning to his side, the man figured that he would just come to a stand, his efforts coupled by a swelling fatigue that he managed to retain despite having been asleep for as long as he had been.

If you could even call that sleeping, that is.

Regardless, if he could just come to a stand, if he could maybe walk around and try to get his bearings (though success in this regard was unlikely, given the circumstances), then maybe he could find a way to get out of this mess.

Somehow.

Starting with his left leg, he applied weight to it just fine, setting it in-front of him and extending it to allow the tingling pins and needles that coursed within his muscles and nerves to run their course, something that took a minute or so. He didn't really have a plan of action, honestly, and he wasn't so delusional as to consider himself able to do too much when he couldn't even tell where he was, much less be able to orchestrate some grand plan to escape from the ship and get back to the mainland.

He wanted to get home, sure, but he wasn't stupid.

Tarzan understood just fine how little he could actually do...right now, at least. But that didn't stop him from trying to reach out and explore to see what he was working with.

And it also didn't stop him from seeing if maybe he could find his pants. Or even just his underwear. Sure, he didn't mind being naked with the other apes, but something in the way that these people looked at him, the way that they...touched him...it made him feel...sick. He didn't know why it did, having never really spoken about or thought of anything relating to...sex. Of course, he wasn't naive to the concept, having seen plenty of apes partake in the act now and again. It was just that he'd never actually...touched it, himself, he meant...not besides when he cleaned himself, much less have someone else do it. Tarzan, as far as he understood, wasn't sure why he registered the thought of them doing it negatively, but just that he didn't want them to, shivering at the memory (before he'd gone under) of a calloused hand touching what he understood, as bestial and naturally as he could, something that they shouldn't have.

It was bad.

He couldn't articulate precisely why, but he knew it was.

And that was enough.

With his left foot somewhat recovered, Tarzan only had to stretch his right leg, and he would be able to come to a stand. He wasn't sure what the plan was precisely, but it was enough to just be able to move around, if only in the confines of his cage or whatever he was in. But he could figure it out as he went along; he just needed to get to his feet.

And he tried to, lifting his thigh only to find himself stopping just as quickly.

Tarzan could barely choke back the scream that bubbled in his throat and pressed against his pursed lips as renewed pain swelled over the course of his leg. Even moving it an inch was enough to force a low groan from his lips, grasping desperately at the floor beside him and clapping a calloused hand over his mouth to stop himself from making noise. It radiated over and over again, the offending throb pulsing not just at the sight of the where he could now remember where he'd been injured was, but seemingly through the entirety of his body with each pass of white hot agony that rose where bitter shards of bone scrambled beneath his skin.

'Bad...feels...b-bad...' He could barely think, rendering himself still, perfectly still, as only the sound of ragged, labored breathing through clenched teeth filled the arid space of the bowels of the ship. It took him some time to even collect himself, and even then, his head swam, thick with nausea and confusion as he searched the dark for what he could see of his leg, but still, just as it had been before, he could find nothing at all.

Nothing but the dark that hid from from his eyes the sight of his mangled appendage.

Not that he minded not having to look at it.

The memory of it alone was enough to make him feel sick.

But then it dawned on him.

There was no way he'd be able to walk on his leg, not when it was in such a state, and all at once a sense of vulnerability he'd never before felt set in. He felt...weak, unable to stand, much less fight when it was like...even more since that meant any attempt to get to the mainland would be futile since he wouldn't even be able to do anything if he were there anyway.

It occurred to him, slowly, but surely, that there was nothing...absolutely nothing...that he could do, and it was even worse with the knowledge, with the horrible understanding, that everything that would happen, everything that would take place...would be his guilt, his fault, to bear.

Entirely and completely.

'What have I done...' Was all that Tarzan could think, unable to move from the rooted where he'd come to a sit.

His mind reeled at the terrifying visions of the apes being slaughtered, or worse, his mind paled, at the notion that they might be taken away, pulled into this hell with him. It was made worse by the fact that he wasn't even sure what they wanted with them in the first place. He could recall it, Clayton mentioning that they had something to gain by capturing them, that they received something for every ape they managed to catch, yet still, why?

Why did they even want to capture them in the first place?

He imagined that a large vessel such as the one that he was on would cross to new places, to 'London', he remembered Jane and Archimedes speaking at length about, but in that regard, he had no idea what that even entailed, where it was, what it would be like...and to think that the family he'd known would be taken to a place he couldn't even describe if he wanted to...it made the curdling, sickening twist of his gut more intense with each moment he considered it. He could only hope that they would be fail, that Clayton and the rest of his lot would just...give up, that the apes would be able to slip quietly away from their home in search of a new one, but even that was wishful thinking. There was no guarantee that they would even be aware of Clayton's intentions, and even then, to be able to rally together and find somewhere new live on such short notice with that many apes...Tarzan didn't like the odds.

Odds that he'd been single-handedly responsible for.

But his worries were cut short by the sound of machinations above, and it was in a rush of blinding light and thundering rain, the hatch was opened, burning light and thunder into his retinas after what felt like an eternity in the dark. Tarzan was quick to return to his side, pressing himself quickly to moist wood in a bid to appear asleep. He wasn't sure why, but a primal part of himself told him that perhaps he should pretend to still be under, hoping that by doing so he wouldn't draw the attention of whom was there now. Closing his eyes, he could hear them descending, just two pairs of footsteps as he heard something click, and all at once, he was bathed in light overhead from hanging light bulbs.

He knew better than to bring attention to himself, but the rummaging of that the two were doing had caught his eye all the same.

His curiosity overcame him as he opened on eye, and, taking a moment or so to adjust to the brightness around him, he caught only a passing glimpse of what he now knew were two men, and they were passing just along the perimeter of his cage, and just as quickly, he noticed that the hatch was closed back. Of the two, they were of about the same height, though their bodies were cut of different sizes that, for all intents and purposes, complimented each. Of the first, he was short, burly, a stocky, heavy-set man with a warm, red, if knotted beard that frame his chubby face, and the other, a wily, but lean, man, though his face was worn with agitation that seemed to be intrinsic to his features.

And if the young man could be clear, without so much as hearing them utter a word, he got the immediate impression that they were the last people he wanted to be around.

They just felt, looked...unpleasant.

He wasn't sure why they did...call it...instinct.

Tarzan felt his breath still as they wandered by, neither seeming to stop even as they passed where he was resting, relief washing over him as they didn't seem entirely interested in him, and he could probably guess why. The two were speaking amongst themselves, and though some of the words that they were using, he understood enough glean a bit of what they were saying, so he strained as hard as he could to listen, though he remained still, not wanting to call attention to himself.

"...coming back? Think we need to lower the ladders now? Get a start on things?" One of them asked, the shorter, stockier man that spared a glance over some barrels, moving things around that were beyond Tarzan's field of vision. The other man, lankier in build, shuffled a bit; the young man figured that he was helping with whatever the other was trying to do, though he couldn't guess what that was exactly.

And it wasn't as if he was really invested in trying to find out, either.

"Probably not. Not much reason to, I figure. I'm sure one of the other blokes'll come tell us when it's time. Right now, I'm just lookin' for something to do for the time being." The second exclaimed, dragging something across the floor and setting it down. Tarzan perked suddenly,, turning his head slowly, carefully, as to not make any noise that they could detect, taking in the rest of the area as they had their backs turned away from him, taking this as the perfect time to get his bearings. The lower bowels of ship that had once been glazed in darkness were illuminated, after all, so it would be a shame to waste the opportunity. It was far larger than he'd expected, great swathes of supplies like rope, twine, and a multitude of other crude elements he couldn't name rested in crates that were stacked nearly as tall as the ceiling.

All around, barrels rested, and just as numerous were bags and strewn sacks filled with the brim with substances he couldn't name, but most notable were the matching containers to his own, each metal bar capturing the light overhead, and he didn't need to guess what those were to be used for. He forced his eyes away, bearing little desire to look upon them anymore. Further, past the cages, he could see, beyond the two men what looked similar to the laid sheets that Jane and Archimedes had rested on when were in the camp. They were stacked upon each other, and though empty, they looked to have been used, or were even still being used, if what he assumed they were was correct.

'Men sleep down here, too?' He couldn't help but think, sparing a glance back to the two that had since moved to other tasks, though, even with his limited knowledge, even Tarzan could tell that they were jut trying to kill time. It bothered him, having them down here with him, though, their presence was, he assumed, why the lights were on in the first place. Despite the thrumming pulse of his heart from fear, he couldn't say being out of the dark was entirely undesirable.

He just had to play it smart and not give them a reason to pay attention to him.

That should have been easy enough...right?

"Right, right. Think they've got a catch?" The short, stocky man continued, leaning against one of the crates. The other seemed to think on it for but a moment, scoffing as he responded.

"A catch? Better well hope so. If what the ape-man said was true, we should. Been needin' a pay day, and if you ask me, I'm right sick of this hellhole. Tarzan felt sick at the reminder of the part he'd played, of his responsibility on the matter. Gritting his teeth, he tried to repress the unpleasant swell of stress and pain that beaded along the front of his head.

He hoped that they wouldn't find them.

He prayed that they wouldn't.

And it made him angry to see them amused, even happy, at the prospect of bringing harm upon his family, but he knew better than to let it show, resigning himself to steeling his body against the wet floorboards, an act of self-control.

"Yeah. though, how many cages do you think we'll need? We could probably start gettin' them ready, too. Think they're comin' back now since I just checked a few minutes ago." The second man didn't answer for a bit, and Tarzan could catch him glimpsing around the room just in same fashion as he had.

Shrugging, the man didn't move much.

"Ah, let's just wait. Don't wanna start now and do more than necessary. We can do a count when they load 'em on." He answered, and Tarzan didn't have to wait long for the other to respond, the two wandering out of sight.

"Yeah, you're probably right." And with that, the two continued to talk about this and that, though now out of hearing range and view. So even they weren't sure if they'd manage to catch any of the others, which, given their uncertainty, it was a comfort on its own, but not enough to placate the resting fear that stayed firm in his tense muscles. As much as he'd love to believe that it was true, that their efforts would prove to be fruitless...there was no real way to be sure. However, in the middle of his thought, Tarzan didn't notice the scampering creature that peered darkly from the floor boards, a rat that scampered clear of the rotting wood below and brushed quickly past Tarzan.

Forgetting himself, the young man was startled, giving him cause to move before remembering quickly his injured leg, a flicker of an intense pain passing through the broken appendage. Before he could control it, a small cry parted from his lips, and quickly, he clamped his mouth shut, shuddering as the agony that had come to be a dull throb before was reawakened, much to his dismay.

'Quiet...need to be quiet...but it hurt...h-hurts...' He reminded himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he made every effort he could to control his stilted breathing, but just as much, Tarzan wasn't naive to the sudden silence that befell the belly of the ship as he felt their eyes land on him, even from afar.

And it was no secret to him that in that moment alone...he'd fucked up.

He held his breath, swallowing thickly as he heard them stalk closer from somewhere beyond him, their voices hushed and kept amongst themselves.

"Say..." The first, burly, heavy voice inquired as the two quickly, seamlessly, closed the distance from wherever they'd been to the foot of his cage, speaking between the bars, their larger bodies drawn near Tarzan bearing upon him with a buzzing, heavy presence he was desperate to ward off. The young man was quick to berate himself, a dawning sense of anger directed at himself washing over him as he'd done precisely what he had feared he would.

He'd gotten their attention.

'No, no, no! Just...stay quiet...still. If I could just look asleep...maybe they'll leave. Just need to...focus...' He thought desperately, attempting to relax as he could feel his muscles tighten from the stress rooted deeply in his bones.

And it wasn't for no reason, either.

He could felt them ogling him, but still, he remained as quiet and placid as he could, slowing his breathing just a bit so that they wouldn't be tipped off to his awareness. However, they simply stood there, as far as he could tell, watching him intently as one of them tapped at the bars.

"Think it's up?" The second, a lilted, grated voice, belonging to the lankier man, asked, clearly curious as his voice had nearly dropped to a whisper. Tarzan figured that the other was looking him over as just after a moment, he responded, though he didn't seem to bother with keeping his voice down, almost appearing to chuckle as a sense of amusement was interlaced with his words.

"Nah. Heard George and Quincy gave it a little somethin' to help 'em relax. It's a good thing, too. Savage was causin' a nice spot of trouble, the brute." He explained, and though Tarzan didn't really understand what those all of those words meant, he'd heard them used before, and it didn't take much for him to comprehend that those weren't...nice words.

Something in the way that they'd used them to describe him made him...upset.

He wasn't a savage, he wasn't...a brute. Tarzan didn't like being called those things, yet still, his reservations weren't enough to have break the act. His pride wasn't enough of a reason to give himself away, after all.

But the man's explanation only gave rise to growing interest between the two men, and Tarzan could feel his tolerance for remaining still and quiet dwindle as fresh reminders of the state of his broken leg radiated with anger over the course of his body.

He would give anything to just vocalize how much it actually hurt, but to do it now, with them still around...he couldn't fathom it.

Which is why he wanted them gone as soon as possible...but to do that, he had to wait it out.

As impossible as it seemed and felt to be, he had to.

"Yeah, you were there. Fucker was hootin' and hollerin' like an ape, and looks like one, too. Couldn't even be decent enough to keep itself covered." The man uttered with coyly, gesturing to his partially nude body, much to Tarzan's newly found shame.

A new feeling, amongst others, that he was discovering on the ship.

However, he froze as the man continued to speak.

"Though, I think I just saw it move. Didn't you?" At the question, Tarzan could feel himself drain of color, but quickly, he gathered himself.

No, he just had to remain calm.

They wouldn't have a reason to stay if he just kept pretending to be asleep, he reminded himself, remaining perfectly still even as he heard the cage door's lock come undone and the bars open, each of the two pairs of footsteps entering the space and kneeling down beside him.

"Go on, poke it a bit. It wouldn't hurt to mess around a bit while we wait. Oi! Ape! You up, yeah?" One of them poked at him, though he wouldn't call them smacking his face, and harshly at that, 'poking'. Tarzan, however, remained careful of his facial expressions despite his cheeks beginning to sting from the repeated contact. They seemed to find the act itself funny, though only one of them seemed to be partaking in it as the other sat by, watching as a hand pulled open his eyes, pried open at his mouth, all manner of inspection that tested his ability to remain perfectly still, and even more, his tolerance for agitation.

Which was slowly rising, by the way.

What did they even stand to gain by doing this?

Wasn't it enough that he was in the cage? Did they have to go about bothering him, too?

The second man seemed to agree with him, his voice laced with exhaustion at the, admittedly, childish actions of his colleague beside him.

"Come on, leave it be. Don't need it gettin' riled up again and - " Despite being held captive by the two of them, Tarzan could at least agree with him, even bordering grateful as it gave the first who'd been responsible for the harassment pause, though not without his own share of annoyance at his fellow deckhand's pestering.

"Ah, come off it. We can just shut it up again if it does. Can't hurt to have a little fun, can it? 'Sides, can't say it ain't at least a looker." Tarzan heard him say, growing uncomfortable at the sudden silence that followed, getting the impression that he was being looked at again.

What was with that?

Why they keep saying things like that?

He didn't help that he felt the man stroke his sides, gripping his skin softly under his finger tips and leaving sickly touches on his stomach before drifting back up to his chest, drawing careful circles around his nipples. Tarzan couldn't help his furrowing brow, confusion and discomfort rising in his gut, though still, he didn't move.

He just had to bear it; that was it and that was all.

He didn't understand why he was doing this, but it wasn't enough that he would give himself away, and when his patience seemed to have been rewarded, the man pulling his hand away after a moment or so, he almost sighed in relief, even more when he heard him stand. He figured that this meant that they were going to leave, though he didn't consider why only one of them stood and other remained knelt beside him. It only bolstered his confusion when he heard shuffling and the sound of metal clanking about before the rustling of clothes, followed by the sound of them hitting the floor.

"You just can't help yourself, huh? Away from home for a few months and the first piece of ass you see, you drop your trousers?" The burly man at his side remarked with a sense of humor, only leading Tarzan be even more confused.

What exactly was that supposed to mean? Why were they using all of these words he didn't understand? He could recall Jane teaching him that trousers were what you wore, like pants, sure, but why would he be dropping them? Was he taking them off?

What was even happening anymore?

The second man who'd gone to stand acknowledged him with a response of his own, though the young man didn't understand why his voice sounded so...strange, as if he was breathing heavily? Gasping? He couldn't name it.

It sounded strange.

He didn't like this.

"Don't act so uptight. Hard to get your rocks off with a bunch of men and a prude bitch who can't take a hint. That Porter woman is a real stiff, and sometimes you gotta take what you can get. At least with this one, it looks half-way decent. If you stop being such a stiff, maybe you could have a little fun, huh?" Tarzan could hear the man who'd undressed spit at something, groaning loudly under his breath as he did so, and the other who'd been kneeling beside him didn't respond, scoffing as he came to stand, too.

"You ain't wrong. Been a while...could probably do this real quick. You don't mind, do ya, ape?" He asked, though he didn't waste time trying to see if he would respond, instead following the actions of the first, the sound of rustling clothes mirroring what he'd heard before.

'What are they doing? Mind? Mind what? I don't - ' Before he could finish his thought, Tarzan barely had time to bite the inside of his cheek as his body was flipped over onto his stomach, the motion of his injured leg enough to force air through gritted teeth, though they didn't seem to notice it.

"Fuck's it matter if it minds? Haven't had a good fuck in a bit; shouldn't have anyone hear it if it makes a fuss, but looks likes it's still out, so what'll it matter?" One of them said, and hearing one of them spit again, Tarzan was still reeling from the movement before, so much so that when he felt something push into his lower cavity, he felt himself draw a quiet, pained breath, clenching his eyes shut harder as whatever they were pulled out only to be pushed in again.

What was this?!

Tarzan couldn't fight the urge to flinch, eyes snapping open as his efforts to remain inconspicuous dissolved at the same moment, drawing both sets of eyes up to his face as each of their jagged smiles resonated darkly in his eyes.

"Oh, you awake, ape?" The man at his back end grinned, pulling out his fingers from where they'd been, striking horror in the pit of Tarzan's chest. The young man didn't even bother trying to answer the question, knowing immediately that something about what was happening wasn't right.

"No...no, don't...don't want - " He articulated as best as he could, but found that whatever they'd given him was still in his system as, even as panic rose in his heart, even as fear rose through every corner of his being, his thoughts still lagged, frustrating him to no end. However, it didn't seem to matter too much as, even when he tried to pull away, as futile as it was, they hardly acknowledged that he'd said anything.

In fact, they merely turned to each, appearing to find all of this amusing.

"Look, ain't that something? Trying to talk, huh, monkey?" The stockier, short man exclaimed, stroking his own, engorged flesh, grunting between each word, and the one just above Tarzan seemed to agree. The same man leaned over the young man's back, only leading to him struggling more, his panic leading his tired, lax muscles to squirm beneath the other's weight. Despite the appearance of him being thin and lanky, was deceiving as Tarzan felt his large, thin fingers press against the back of his neck, squeezing just enough to make him go still just as he'd opened his mouth to cry out.

"Don't make this hard, yeah? I'm not above beatin' the shit outta you, so if you know what's good for ya, shut your fuckin' mouth." The man uttered darkly, pushing himself onto Tarzan and readjusting his hardened cock with his opposite, free hand.

Tarzan...he didn't understand.

He couldn't understand what was happening.

He couldn't understand why this was happening.

He just...didn't understand.

"H-hurts...hurting...me..." He whimpered as he he still tried to struggle, but at the tightening grip of the man's hand, he was silenced, seconded only by the press of something hard against his buttocks,

Then all at once, Tarzan's body screamed as it entered him.

Life in the jungle hadn't exactly been a cake walk. From falls to tumbles, to bites and bruises, he could confidently say that he'd nearly every ill that his home could offer and then some. Despite his weak, fragile, human constitution, he considered himself hardy, tolerant to the strain that simply living in a wild, untamed place such as that, and as such, was equally tolerant to discomfort...generally speaking. Even when he'd injured his leg, it was at least something that he could apply reason to.

He knew why it had happened.

He'd miscalculated his jumped. He'd slipped. He'd fallen.

Any one of those reasons would do.

And most importantly, he could describe how it felt. It throbbed, it pulsed, it just plain hurt, sure, but all of those were things he could say. All of those were words he could use to understand what he was feeling.

Yet, out of all of the sensations that he'd ever felt, there was nothing that he could even remotely use to describe the complete and utter agony that filled him with each thrust the man made. Every second, every minute, that he felt him enter him, Tarzan couldn't help it, the guttural sound that tore its way from his throat, echoing horridly through the ship as scratched with futile desperation at the floor, dropping any and all pretense of civility in a bid to seek release from the sensation. Despite his prone state, Tarzan found a renewed sense of strength that bubbled within him, thrashing violently against the man's weight which, as luck would have it, only succeeded in making him angrier.

"Hey, shut the fuck up! You lookin' to rouse the whole ship, you stupid monkey?!" The man grunted, pressing harder into the back of the man's neck, but Tarzan couldn't hear him, not between his own desperate bouts of pain as he felt some warm trickle between his thighs.

It hurt too much to think.

It hurt too much to consider what he'd said.

He only had one desire, one though in mind...and that was to get away, to make it stop, to do whatever he had to so that the pain could end.

But it didn't help.

Each felt as though he'd be ripped in half.

Why did it hurt so badly?

Why? WHY? W H Y -

"I said shut the fuck up!" The man bit back between thrusts, taking up a handful of Tarzan's sweaty, soaked dreads and raising his head, and before the young man could even try to pull away, it was slammed back upon the wood with as much force as the man could muster. An explosion of pain ruptured the front of his skull and along the front of his face as his movements ceased for a breath, twisting images of the world around him doubled, tripled, in his unfocused eyes, and for a brief moment...he'd been silenced. It was easy enough to tell why; with strange clarity, he could feel his nose rush with blood, the bitter, metallic substance running quickly down his face and into his mouth, filling the cavity with the taste of iron. He couldn't reach up to cradle the injury, instead resolving the grip the wood with broken nails that trembled with exertion.

The smell of sex, the stench and taste of his own blood...Tarzan could hardly withhold the urge to vomit, both from the pain of his backend and head, gagging harshly at the sensation of nausea, made more intense as the man's pace quickened.

Though the man behind was satisfied enough to continue without so much as missing a beat, the other, shorter man didn't seem amused.

"Think you could hold off on roughin' it up too much, huh? Porters want it alive, yeah?" The other man spoke whilst he stroked himself, though Tarzan had to admit...it was a little harder to understand him now, the blood in his ears muffling his words. Groaning softly, his head lolled, eyes screwing shut as tendrils of red, hot agony sweltered up his backside, doing whatever he could to focus on what he could that wasn't...this.

At his friends' words, Tarzan's assailant scoffed, readjusting his grip on his hips as he thrusted roughly into him.

"Oh, it's alive, ain't it? 'Sides, they never said anything about beatin' on it a little. If you ask me..." Before continuing, Tarzan felt the man push intensely, the ape man shuddering a loose, quiet breath in a bid to restrain himself from crying out, but his body quaked with strain, the effort of doing this alone exhausting.

But he had to.

He didn't want to risk taking another hit to the face.

His nose had taken enough of a beating, and making him angrier than he already had been, he was beginning to realize quickly, wasn't in his best interest.

"...you need to. Animals like this don't respond to talkin'. Gotta show 'em...show 'em how to behave. It's quiet after I have it a little reminder, 'innit?." He remarked, reaching up to yank at Tarzan's hair, only making his headache worse.

But how much worse could it get than this?

What more could they do?

Tarzan felt his eyes burn, and he was quick to try and ignore the urge to cry.

No.

No, they wouldn't have the satisfaction of knowing that they'd gotten to him, he wouldn't...give that to them.

He would bear it, as difficult, as unbearable, as it was.

He had to.

A minute, then many more, would pass, and with a final push, Tarzan felt something warm, burning, filling him in one moment only to feel the man pulling away the next, his cock softened by climax. The man's jaw was tight, impossibly clenched with enough force to break his teeth as the man stood, wiping his brow and bending down to grab his pants, redressing seamlessly as the other bent down to have his share.

"Damn! It was fuckin' tight. Clamped down on me so hard I thought it'd cleave my cock!" He exclaimed, the clang of metal a note that he was adjusting his belt, but Tarzan missed it, and he also didn't catch the other man's words as he bent over him, following the actions of the first.

"Hope you didn't loosen it too much. Took you long enough finish, didn't it?" The second complained, and though it hurt just as much as the first...Tarzan didn't move. His eyes were trained solely on the empty space to his left in the direction of the hatch, the resting, angry throb of his skull at least enough for him attempt to shut away the feelings, the sensations.

Or to attempt to.

It was all easier to bear if he just...went somewhere else, and it wasn't as if...his mind was really giving him a choice in the matter.

It was strange.

He...still felt it, heard it.

The pain of something entering him, the motions, the smell of sweat and musk...everything, yet...his mind felt muddy, thick and unreachable as his eyes fell out of focus. All at once...it was as if he were somewhere else, yet still there.

It was strange to say the least, but it was kind enough to block it out, the world around him growing softer, quieter, until all he could make out were vague notions of what was happening.

And he stayed there.

Near yet far, close but apart...watching himself as it happened.

He didn't understand.

He couldn't understand.

In the middle of it, the hatch opened, allowing salted and wet air to spill in from the storm outside as several other inhabitants of the ship rushed down the stairs. The man above him didn't seem bothered by the intrusion, and just as much, a young voice called out, eyes falling onto them after a moment.

"Hey, they're comin' back! We need to start lowerin' the - " The one that had been speaking, sounding younger and more spry by comparison to the older men that Tarzan had heard, paused, stopping dead in his tracks as the others, sounding like at least five or six people, did just the same, most at loss the stocky man continued to thrust. Tarzan's unfocused eyes could just make out the boy's expression, something torn between confusion and discomfort as they all fell into an odd sense of disquiet.

He opened his mouth to call out, but the memory of his broken nose and throbbing head was enough to silence him.

"Ah, j-just...hold off! Nearly...nearly...done..." The man grunted out with effort, grasping Tarzan's shoulder for support as his climax mounted.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

After a collection of thrusts, the man moaned, and again, Tarzan felt something warm, tearing up his insides as the man went soft, and just as quickly, pulled out. Sighing with satisfaction, the rotund man wasted not a single breath standing up, picking his pants and underwear off of the ground and redressing casually as he turned to the group that had just entered the lower half of the ship.

After an awkward moment of silence, the deckhand continued, voice a touch quieter as they gazed at the scene.

"W-well...we need to lower the ladders; Clayton and the rest of them are coming back." He finished, and both of the men above Tarzan finished adjusting their clothes, remarking the lad with retrained expressions, seeming to forget all about the person at their feet.

"Oh, yeah? So, what's the verdict? Did they get any of 'em?" The stockier man asked, stepping away from Tarzan's body dismissively without so much as a second glance to what he'd clearly defiled. The thinner man followed suit, taking up the bars of the door in-hand and slamming it shut, giving the ape man reason to flinch, the sound remarkably loud in his ears.

In fact, everything felt louder.

Everything felt overwhelming.

To think that they were just...speaking so casually, making general, unbothered conversation after...what happened...Tarzan wasn't even sure he could process it.

The deckhand seemed to be at just as much as a loss.

"A-ah...yeah! I was surveying and they had a bunch of 'em." He reported, doing his best to keep his bright, innocent eyes trained firmly on the older deckhands, though there was a flashing look of uncertainty, of discomfort, that painted his features. But no one else seemed to make mention of it at all, in fact, no one even seemed to acknowledge that anything had happened.

No else even looked at Tarzan.

"Right. Looks like it's our lucky day, huh, Pete?" The lankier man asked, slapping a large hand over the boy, Pete's, shoulder. The boy cast a quick glance over to his hand, noting the odd fluid, the drying blood, that was slick on his fingers, but he made no mention of it, choosing instead to smile gingerly at the inquiry.

"Uh, yeah! It...sure is..." Again, Pete cast a glance over to Tarzan, and though the other times it wasn't mentioned, the man removed his hand from his shoulder, aligning his gaze where Pete's eyes had fallen. With a look back at the lad, the other man grinned, slapping his hand across his back.

"Oh, what, you want a go? I'm sure it wouldn't mind, would you, monkey?" He yelled back at the young man, trekking back to kick at the bars, again forcing Tarzan to flinch, though he remained silent, still having not moved from how he'd been left, but even more than that, he didn't refrain from the stiffening of his body at the prospect of it happening again, that someone else would do the same, and so soon before he even had time to recover from the first time.

Or the second.

The boy, despite his reservations to object, seemed just as put off by the idea, choosing instead to avoid the question entirely.

"Ah, I...maybe we should be going! You know that Clayton doesn't like to be kept waitin'!" He reminded him, chuckling nervously as he ripped his eyes away from Tarzan, and turned on his heel, gesturing for the others to follow suit. The ape man wasn't sure if it was for his sake or the boy's own, but he wouldn't stand to question it, melting into the floorboards as, though the tension of his body didn't cease, he felt the group began to thin, each agreeing silently with the suggestion as they began to part to the upper levels.

With a scoff, both of the older men followed, looking between each other.

"You don't got to be shy about it. Never hurt to have a little fun, right? We'll have plenty of time to come back and pick up where we left off, just you wait, monkey." The stockier man mused ominously, and without so much as needing him to look at him, Tarzan knew it was a promise, despite wishing with every fiber of his being that it wouldn't be so.

The boy didn't protest to the idea, though the discomfort was evident on his face.

"R-right...I'll...consider it..." The boy muttered, unable to even look at Tarzan again, and he hastened his pace, followed closely by the other deckhands that remained just as quiet.

With the closing of the hatch leading to the stormy deck above, Tarzan rested in the silence in a stunned, tired silence that only resolved to break as finally, he felt his eyes water, hot, stinging tears tearing down his cheeks.

He didn't move, not for a full minute after they'd left.

Even as he laid there, he...still couldn't really process it.

All he could think was why.

Why did they do that?

Why did he feel so...so...he could hardly name it. The way that they...they touched him...to the way they...they -

Tarzan retched, loosing the contents of his stomach upon the salted, wet boards beneath his head as the pounding headache only compounded, growing in an intensity that didn't rest even when his stomach was empty. It hurt, no, everything hurt, everything ached, everything felt...dirty.

He felt...disgusting.

He couldn't name why.

He just...did.

Shifting a bit so that he couldn't be on his stomach anymore, he tried to cope with the renewed throb of his backside, made worse by the cracking of the drying fluids that dripped pitifully from his worn hole. The memory of the moment was burned in mind, awakening a fresh wave of sickness that came in the form of painful heaving, over and over until his throat began to ache.

'Don't...think about it. D-don't...' He begged himself, pulling himself into to as tight of ball as he could manage, remaining careful of his damaged leg as he didn't think he had it in him to deal with much more.

Not yet, not then.

Hopefully not ever.

But somehow he knew this wasn't it.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he could just hear shouting above as activity and clatter above began to rise. His eyes closed as what they said dawned on him, a perverse sense of responsibility filling him.

They'd...they'd found his troop.

And worse...they'd captured some of them.

Everything that he'd feared...had come to pass.

Yet all he could think, over, and over, and over again, was...that it was all his fault.

Despite the pain, despite the disgust that he held for himself, that was likely the worst part of all of this.

That he was entirely to blame...and they would suffer for it.

And that was all that he could think.

'This is all my fault.' His mind reminded him through the aching of his leg.

'This is all my fault.' His mind screamed at him though the violent pain that riddled his body.

His fault, his fault, his fault.

And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that he could do about it.