CW: Non-con/rape, fuck or die trope, uncomfortable/painful sex, forced loss of virginity, brief slut shaming of a victim, very brief transphobia, hurt/comfort.
Not proofread because I wrote this at like 1 am and really wanted to post it the same night.
The villain has the ftm hero and their male companion in his grasp, but he likes them. Well, he hates the hero obviously, but he thinks that, maybe in another life, if the hero had taken a darker path, they could have been allies, friends even.
The villain should kill them both, but a small, playful part of him doesn't want their battling to end. A bigger, sick part wants them to suffer. The hero's certainly pretty, and his companion isn't too bad looking himself. Not to mention the hero's on the younger end. Still an adult, but a boy compared to the villain. He might just be a virgin.
When the villain tells the hero that he wants to watch them fuck, the hero laughs in his face. Go fuck yourself, the hero would snap. But his strong, stoic facade would begin to slip when the villain gives him the alternative. He's going to loose his virginity to his companion for the viewing pleasure of the villain, or he's going to be kept as prisoner to watch the villain destroy his allies, his cities and shatter the worlds peace. And of course, finish with raping and killing him.
The hero is already crying, scared, begging, his facade having shattered immediately. His companion, who's a bit older, manages to keep together. Yes, he's a victim too, but he's the one with the cock. He's going to penetrate his closest friend, to take his virginity like this. It sickens him. He couldn't care less about himself in this situation, and only wishes to comfort his hero.
The two of them are on their knees on the unforgiving cold marble floor. The hero flinches when his companion gently takes his face in his hands. I am so sorry. He'd whisper. I won't blame you if you hate me after this. The hero through his tears, as wonderful and selfless as he is, reminds the companion that he is a victim too, but his companion gently shushes him. He knows, but he doesn't care about himself.
The hero is gently pushed onto his back, the companion taking off his coat to ball under his head. I will do everything in my power to make this bearable for you. He promises. The hero's tears won't stop coming, but he nods, his friends words giving him the tiniest amount of comfort.
They kiss, so, so gently. The companion keeps one hand on the hero's face on the side the villain is on, so the hero won't be able to see him. Perhaps he can pretend he isn't there. The companion lays soft kisses on his jaw, kissing his way to his ear. I am so sorry. I will be gentle. I won't hurt you. Though he knows it's a promise he can't keep. The hero had confided in him many times about being a virgin, being unable to penetrate himself without discomfort, sometimes even pain. When he quietly offers to take him anally instead, so save him the fear and pain, the villain demands he takes the hero's real virginity.
The companion wants to only undo their trousers, but again, the villain demands nudity. In his words, he's doing them a favor by sparing their lives, so they need to make this worth it. The companion strips first, and he once more feels guilt. He's comfortable with his body, with nudity. He couldn't care less if the entire world saw him naked. But the hero shakes his head, clutching his shirt tightly. When the companion tried to bargain with the villain, he only laughs in his face.
I am so sorry. He whispers again as unbuttons the hero's shirt. Once they are both naked, he quickly straddles the hero's waist in an attempt to hide his most private area from the villains gaze. He wipes his tears and kisses him gently again. They hold hands, the companion only letting out a soft sigh as the hero grips him tight, digging his nails into his flesh. At the villains command, he kisses down his neck and over his breasts. He grits his teeth when the villain comments on how big his breasts are, and how it's a shame he'd decided to play man and bind them up. The companion gently suckles on them, and hates himself for liking it. He hates himself for being hard. Yes, he'd imagined taking his hero's virginity for a long time now, but not like this.
He'd fantasied about taking his hero out for dinner, to entertain him, to make him feel loved. He'd imagined a soft bed, even softer lighting, discussions of limits and comforts, maybe some fooling around and gigging about it. Not raping him for the pleasure of a sick, perverted monster. The thought of his friend flinching at his touch, avoiding him, hating him after this sickened him. But most of all, he was scared that this would ruin sex and intimacy for the boy forever. The companion wasn't a virgin, and had an absolutely wonderful first time to look back on. His hero wouldn't.
The hero twitches, a barely contained flinch as the companion kisses down his stomach and then between his thighs. I am so sorry. The companion whispers for the hundredth time. I will try and make this feel good, alright? I know it's hard but please try and relax. Don't clench. He gently instructs. The hero's cunt is wet, but he knows that isn't a sign of want or consent. Any man who thinks so should never be allowed to touch one.
He keeps one hand holding the hero's, and softly kneads his thigh with the other, keeping his legs spread to allow him to lap at him. He gives him slow, broad licks in am attempt to acclimate him to this before sucking on his clit. His hero lets out a tiny whine of pleasure, which makes the villain laugh. You like this boy? You like being defiled in front of me? What a whore. He mocks. The companion has to restrain himself from lunging at him. Just as he managed to make his hero feel good, that sick fuck takes it away. The hero makes no more noises of pleasure after. Whether he'd unable to, or is keeping them in, is unknown.
He gently prods his hero's hole, and the boy can't stop from clenching down. He was scared of pain, which made his body clench, and because his body clenched it made penetration hurt, and because it hurt, it made him scared, and it was frustrating and upsetting circle. The companion moves his hand from his thigh to his lower stomach, petting him in an attempt to soothe him. It didn't work.
He gentle fucks him with his tongue, working to get him looser. If it were up to him, he would have spent all day prepping him. But the villain had other ideas. Fuck him now. I want to see him squirm. He demands, stoking his own cock. The companion pulls back and hisses to him. I will not hurt him.
Either you will fuck him, or I will. The villain simply hums. And I assure you both, I will not be as kind or merciful.
You must provide me oil then. The companion attempts to reason. The hero is back to trembling, choking as he attempts to keep his sobs in. He's so, so scared, and the companion feels sick in a way he never will again.
No. The villain says, and the companion actually begins to get up, intent on beating him to death, before being forced back down by the shifting of the guards weapons. Please. He begs, but the villain will not listen, only smirking at him with a quirked brow.
The companion sucks on his own fingers to wet them before gently working one into his hero's cunt. It will be okay sweetheart. He says as he leans over him, pressing his forehead to his. His hero's eyes are closed but that's okay. No matter what he says, I will be gentle. I know it doesn't feel good, I know. You can cry, it's okay. You are not weak for doing so. You are no less of a man. He can barely work a second finger in, the boys body refusing to unclench, even as he softly works his clit in an attempt to pleasure him.
He gathers up his slick and soaks his hand in spit to wet his cock. He'd not overly thick which is good, but he is long. When he feels there is nothing more he can do, fearful that the villain will take up on his threat and take his place, he gently lifts the hero. Hopefully gravity will aid them both. He sits on his lap, straddling him, chests pressed together, The boy wrap his arms tightly around his companion, burrowing his face in his neck.
I am so sorry sweetheart. He whispers once more before lining his cock up and, hands on his hero's hips, ever so slightly pushes him down. His cunt clenches and resists, and the boy sobs into his neck. Stop, it hurts. I can't do it. He begs, and his companions heart shatters. He wants to stop, but a look from the villain tells him off.
I know, I know it hurts. It'll be over soon sweetheart. You're so brave. You're so, so brave. He whispers. The head of his cock finally pops in. He slowly works the boy down onto his cock until his entire length is sheathed within him.
He keeps one hand on his hip to slowly raise and lower him, rolling his hips in turn with the slow pace. His other arm wraps around his hero's shoulders, gently holding the back of him head. It hurts. The hero whimpers.
I know. Deep breaths sweetheart. Deep breaths. The companion whispers back. After a few moments he increases the pace ever so slightly. He spreads his hand over the front of his hip so he can circle the boys clit. The sooner they both cum, the sooner this will be over. Assuming the villain will even keep his end of the deal. Eventually, thankfully, the hero manages to loosen up a little, allowing his companion to gently thrust up into him.
Please don't, don't- inside me. The hero whimpers into his ear.
I promise. I swear to every god I won't. He promises.
The villain, does, of course, demand he cum inside, but the companion won't do it. If the villain would attempt to take his place, to rape his hero, he'd sooner snap the boys neck to save him from that fate. Even if the idea made bile in his throat, he'd at least die knowing that even if the world burned, his closest friend would be spared from the monsters sick wrath.
He makes his hero cum first, working his clit until he clenched, hips jerking as he whimpered. He pulled out just before he came, coming onto his cunt rather than inside. The villain groans as he finishes to, thrusting into his fist as he watches them. He glances down at the hero's empty cunt, disappointed at not having seen the boy bred, but he is a fair man, at least in his own mind.
You have ten minutes to leave my lands. He waves them off. The companion doesn't need to be told what will happen if that time isn't made. He doesn't bather getting dressed, only slipping on his shoes, so he can run, and wrapping his hero in a coat. He carries him bridal style, held to his chest as he bolts from the villains lair. They manage to make their way back to camp, where the rest of their friends and allies are.
One dangerous look from them stops them all from crowding, and they leave. Not far, but enough to give them both space. He brings his hero to his own tent, laying him down on the bedroll. The hero begins to cry again, curling up into a ball, wrapping his arms around him.
Do you want me to hold you? His companion gently asks. Do you want someone else to hold you? I will do whatever it is you want. Whatever it is, you need only ask. Please, sweetheart. It pains me to see you suffer further. He wants to hold the boy close, but he will never, ever lay a hand on him again without explicit, verbal consent.
You? Please? The hero whimpers, and the companion lays down besides him, pulling him close and tucking him within his arms.
Let it all out, it's okay. You did so well. You did so well and you were so brave. I'm so proud of you. He praises, kissing him on the forehead. Cry all you want. No one will think less of you. No one will judge you. And no one will ever violate you again, he thinks, but won't yet say it out loud.
At some point, the tent doors rustle. The companion turns his head, ready to tell whoever off, but no one is there. One of their friends had simply slid a pale of warmed water, a washcloth, a tin cup of fresh cold water, a warmed sweet biscuit and a healing potion in through the small gap in the flaps.
They sit up, his hero nestled in his lap, back to his chest. The companion helps him drink in the potion and then the water. He offers the biscuit, but the hero doesn't feel like eating. Can I wash you sweetheart? It's okay if not. You can wash in the morning if you want.
You can. The hero mumbles, so he does. The companion takes the cloth and gently bathes him. He doesn't scrub, and pauses before he touches his breasts, waiting for his reaction. When his boy doesn't stop him, he ever so gently rubs the cloth over them. Down his stomach he cleans, before moving to his thighs.
The way the hero flinches when he moves his hand between his thighs pains him. He hesitates, before wetting the cloth again and wiping down his cunt. The boy sniffles and covers his face with his hands, but doesn't tell him to stop. He cleans all of the cum and slick up, whispering soft comforts and praises to him.
Eventually, his hero, his good, strong, brave hero, manages to doze off in his arms, the physical and emotional exhaustion having caught up. The companion holds him tight, rocking him ever so softly. Even if his hero forgave him-after all, he was a victim too, despite not seeing himself as such- he would never forgive himself. He could have fought harder, could have bargained better, could have been more gentle. But self pity and blame would not fix this. Only death could.
If the hero does not kill the villain, he would. He would do it slow and agonizingly. There would be no trial. No prosecution. No prison or chains. There would only be death.
