Sam woke up to the sound of the door slamming shut, and he instinctively wrapped both arms around Fi. She was mostly out of it; her head had slammed into a metal panel in the back of the van that had left her in and out of consciousness. Her breathing was shallow, her body limp against his. He looked up seeing three guys with masks, looking at them. All three came over, one of them grabbing Fi as the other two grabbed Sam by both arms, holding him there. As he fought against them, one finally hit him, knocking him semi-conscious, and he was only hearing bits and pieces before he could finally open his eyes. He was barely able to see what was right in front of him, which was the scene of Fi unconscious and all three of the bastards having their way with her. One looked over seeing him awake, and got the others' attention.
"He's awake."
Fi gave a weak groan as one rocked into her once more before pulling out. The tall one came over to Sam, kicking him, while the two shorter ones carried Fi over to him, throwing her at him. Fi moaned at the impact, and Sam was able to hold her close. He was so focused on her, he didn't see the gun one of them pulled and put to his head until he felt the metal. He froze as the other two pushed Fi back onto the floor.
"Strip."
"No," he whispered, and got pistol whipped for it.
One of them grabbed Fi, pulling her back to the bed. The other grabbed Sam by the hair.
"Listen, it's either you or all three of us at once. Which one is it going to be?"
"Sam, please."
He looked up at Fi on the bed. Sam sighed, defeated, got up and stripped and made his way over to her. He laid between her legs and started kissing her as he entered her slowly. She moaned quietly, and he kissed down to her neck while whispering,
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay, we will figure it out later," she whispered.
This continued until they both came, and the three men grew tired, finally leaving them alone. As soon as the door closed, he moved to pull away from her, but she held him close to her until they both came. He moved away from her, noticing the bastards took their clothes, just leaving them blankets. He took one, wrapping it around his waist, bringing the other two to her. He gently wrapped her up, noticing even after everything how beautiful she still looked. He moved to go sit in the corner when he heard her voice, soft but strained, calling out to him.
"Don't… Please don't go."
He froze mid-step, glancing over his shoulder. Her eyes, filled with a mix of fear and vulnerability, held his. He hesitated, gripping the edge of the blanket tighter around his waist.
"I'm not going far," he said quietly, his voice hoarse.
She shook her head, clutching the blanket he'd wrapped around her.
"Stay. Please."
His chest tightened. He didn't know if it was from the raw emotion in her voice or the guilt weighing on him for not being able to protect her earlier. Either way, he couldn't refuse her. Reluctantly, he grabbed the other blanket and got on the bed, laying down beside her while careful not to invade her space. She shifted slightly, inching closer to him, her head resting on his chest as he wrapped an arm around her gently. She lay there, and he thought she had fallen asleep when he heard,
"Thank you." She whispered the words, her voice barely audible.
He nodded, his jaw tightening.
"You don't have to thank me," he replied, his tone softer than he intended.
They lay in silence for a while, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. Despite everything, there was an unspoken understanding between them—an acknowledgment that, whatever came next, they would face it together.