It’s too much. Too much, too much. Elbows scraped raw, knees bloody, palms pink and wearing down too. Hair swaying, head tipped down, tears and sweat dripping from his nose and brow.
The pain has Major squeezing his eyes shut and tight as he can, his mouth hanging open to punch out gasps. The blood dripping from the fingernail-gouges in his hips tickles up his navel, watered down by the sweat, until it drips languidly from his happy trail.
Something touches his cheek. Eyes flying open with a ragged gasp, paranoid that his face is being grabbed to be lifted so he can be fucking spit roasted - but no, he just sees Quinn. Lying on their back looking up at him with a concerned frown.
It would be awkward, being fucked on top of them, but he’s fucked them enough times that it doesn’t feel any more embarrassing than the being fucked itself. Quinn’s eyes are searching his, a dark pretty brown with a lighter, almost gold ring around the pupils. They’re clammy and pale under the thick scattering of freckles across the bridge of their nose.
“Too much for you?” Asks the spy, sweeping the side of their thumb across his cheekbone.
“Fu-uck, fuck, fuck you,” Major pants harshly. His core aches, his arms feel liable to give out. The man behind him loses his rhythm, going quick and brutal, before groaning so loudly that Major flinches and tips his head down onto Quinn’s shoulder. He shudders as the man slumps heavily onto Major’s back, lazily rolling his hips deeper a few more times.
When Major collapses, punching an oof out of Quinn that makes it hard to draw more breath in under the weight of two men, the man above him drags himself off. Hands reach under Major’s shoulders and hips, and set him up on all fours again, kicking at his knees to get them back into place.
He doesn’t really notice that he’s all out crying until Quinn wipes the tears from his eyes before they can splatter down. They shift, pulling their sleeve down around their hand, and then wipe the snot from his nose, too. “Is it too much for you?” They ask again, eyes boring holes into the trembling man hunched over them.
He’s already rocking with the new rhythm. No time was wasted pushing into him, forcing a desperate, cracking sob out of Major. He wobbles on his elbows and shakes his head weakly. “No. No, fuck n-no.”
So Quinn waits. They watch unhappily as Major is fucked past the point of wobbling, all the way until his limbs give out again, and no amount of propping him back up can keep him up. So he lies with his full weight atop Quinn, and the assault becomes so much more intimate to them. The spy grimaces in disgust as their friend is rocked against their hips, as the groping hands of the man on top find their way to Quinn’s sides, to their face. They endure the fingers poking at their mouth with gritted teeth and firm loathing in their eyes.
Finally, with a huff of frustration, Quinn slides their hand from Major’s shoulder to the back of his neck, cupping it and holding him close. Their fingers spread into his hair and they move an inch to get their lips close to the crest of his ear.
“Is it too much for you, yet, Miles?”
A violent tremor wracks through Major’s body. He’s been digging bruises into them with his terrible grip, and he crushes them harder, now, in a violent facsimile of a hug. “Nnh-... yeah. F-fuck. Yeah, too much.”
They sigh in relief at the indirect permission. Crushing him tight, Quinn closes their eyes and focuses on loosening the control on their magic, slipping it out into the air until it’s all but choking the air out of the room. Quinn’s magic forces pure terror into the room. At the same time, they force one knee up just enough to set their sneaker against the floor, then kick it forward and down as fast as they can, producing a high-pitched squeak. It sounds nothing like a police siren or alarm. It might sound like one, though, to a mind drowning in terror.
Quinn was concerned that the terror they’d force-feed to everyone would make Major flip out. That he’d tear their throat open with his teeth, break their arms, bash their head into the floor.
Instead, as the men in the room scramble to yank their pants up and race for the door, Major’s breathing just picks up. Panting faster, he stays lying on top of Quinn, digging his fingers into their bruised skin, hiding his face in the side of their neck.
They wait a moment, after the men have fled and the room’s gone quiet. But Major stays, gasping still, weeping harder and harder. Hesitantly, Quinn lays a hand on his back, ignoring the unpleasant slime there.
“I mindfucked you, I’m sorry,” They rasp into his frizzy hair, hoping that some rage might get him moving. Might get the normal Major to come back out. But Major only whimpers.
They desperately need the sticky, hot weight off of them. Their own chest is heaving for air. But this is fragile. He is fragile. The lump in their throat makes swallowing painful. “You need to move before they come back. You don’t want them to start again.”
That gets him moving. Rolling onto his side, sliding off of Quinn, with a groan and a sob low in his throat. The spy drags themself up to sitting, using their clean sleeve to frantically wipe gross things off of themself, before they slow to a stop staring at Major.
Arms bent over his head, sobbing. Sobbing quietly, no less, like a scared little boy. One knee drawn up toward his stomach. A lot of blood.
Nose scrunched up, Quinn reaches out to lay a knobbly, tender hand on his shoulder. Major flinches like a hot iron was lain on his skin. Quinn’s hand remains. “You need to heal yourself.”
His fingers are twisted in his hair. Pulling hard. The healer tries to curl up smaller. It only seems to make him hurt worse.
“I kept asking if it was too much,” They nag, inching closer on their knees. They work his fists out of his hair, massaging where his scalp must be burning from trying to rip his own hair out. “You kept saying no.”
Major’s shoulders are up around his ears, his body lurching with each weepy gasp. He tries to form words for a minute, stopping and starting, choking on air. Quinn waits patiently.
“Ple-... please,” Is all he says, finally.
Concern deepens Quinn’s frown.
