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Jean should never have allowed himself to think this would be easy. The first two Ravens had been tolerable, their brashness in volunteering to help “break Jean in” (as Riko had so delightfully put it) somewhat moderated by the reality of having Jean alone in their bed. They were still not used to their place and Jean’s place in the Ravens’ hierarchy, not broken of their tendencies towards compassion. They didn’t understand that hurting Jean wasn’t like hurting a person.
Grayson understood. He looked at Jean the way Riko looked at Jean, all hard eyes and a sharp grin. He was a born Raven. He pinned Jean to the wall the moment Jean stepped inside, ravaging his mouth in a kiss that was more like a bite, and when he pulled away, Jean’s lip was bleeding.
Grayson smeared the blood with his thumb. “This is going to be good.”
Jean did not allow his lip to shake. He had gotten very good at staying blank. Even Riko sometimes could not tell what he was feeling. He wouldn’t let Grayson break him.
But neither would he give in to this. What Grayson wanted, he could take. Jean had allowed the first two to pretend that he wanted this, and it had left him feeling sick in a way he couldn’t quite define. Jean was finished making this easy.
Grayson wedged his thumb between Jean’s lips. Jean bared his teeth, but allowed it in. He tasted of sweat and wood, and he pressed into the back of Jean’s tongue until Jean gagged.
“If you bite, you’ll regret it.”
Jean hadn’t intended to bite. Riko had impressed upon him the importance of behaving. He glared at Grayson.
“We can do this two ways.” Grayson was still pressing down. Jean’s mouth filled with the saliva he was desperately trying to keep from dripping out. “I can fuck you right now, and you can hope the lube on the condom is enough to keep you happy. Or you can blow me, get me good and wet, and I’ll fuck you bare.”
Jean knew then that his resolve didn’t matter. Grayson didn’t care whether Jean wanted this or not. Or perhaps he did, and Jean not wanting it made it better for him.
Jean knelt. Grayson already had his dick out, forcing it between Jean’s teeth so fast that it nearly scraped his teeth.
He felt the ghost of a blow to his head, heard Riko snapping, “No teeth!” as he tugged Jean’s hair. Grayson would not be so patient in his corrections as Riko had been, Jean knew. He opened his mouth wider, allowing Grayson to take hold of his head by the hair and direct him.
Grayson went deep without preamble, his dick hitting the back of Jean’s throat. At least he wouldn’t have to work at getting it wet, some hysterical part of Jean thought as he gagged and began to drool. He could feel the wetness on his chin, and he knew how he must look, drooling like a dog. His throat clenched around Grayson’s dick, then loosened as he gasped for air, clenched and loosened in an endless cycle as Grayson moved Jean’s head around like a puppet.
His eyes were blurry with tears, but Jean still saw Grayson pull the phone out of the pocket of his gym shorts. Grayson snapped a picture, the flash stinging Jean’s eyes.
“What a picture,” Grayson said, voice rough. “The team slut, giving it his all.”
Jean tried to go away inside his head. He could ignore pain. It was easy, allowing himself to drift as someone hit him or kicked him or choked him until he couldn’t breathe. It was easy, too easy, to pretend the sex he didn’t want was sex he did, allow himself a dangerous fantasy where the lips on his or the dick in his ass belonged to someone with gentler hands, spin a few stolen moments together into an elaborate web of fantasy that almost nothing could shatter.
Grayson managed to shatter it. Kevin might have done many things, if Jean begged for them, but he would never have pressed Jean’s head to his groin as his dick choked off every possibility of breathing. He would not have laughed and taken another picture as Jean fell to his hands and gasped for air after he finally, finally, released him.
“You just stay right there,” Grayson said, pulling a condom from his shorts before pulling them down entirely.
“You said...” It wouldn’t do any good to beg. Jean knew that. Riko had never listened to his begging, and neither would Grayson. But he still felt the temptation, pleas welling up behind his lips before he choked them back down.
“You think I’d actually fuck you bareback?” Grayson was still laughing, an ugly laugh. “Whore like you would probably give me something that makes my dick fall off.”
Jean was clean. Riko had him tested regularly. All the Ravens were, with all of the fucking around that happened in the Nest. He knew it wouldn’t do any good to say that.
The lube on the condom was not, in fact, enough. Jean relaxed and allowed Grayson to enter him, and he didn’t feel anything tear, at least. Jean had impeccable control over his body. He would allow Grayson in. But he still burned, the friction far on the other side of uncomfortable.
The blowjob must have been good, or Jean was beginning to lose track of the time, because the actual fuck seemed to be over in a blink, just a blur of thrusts and hands bruisingly tight on his hips and teeth sinking into his shoulder. Everyone would be able to see that in the locker room. They all knew who Jean was fucking, there would have been no hope of hiding it even if his partners had been inclined to. This, however, would stare them in the face. Irrevocable evidence that Jean Moreau was a slut.
He thought Grayson took more pictures, but on his hands and knees like this, he couldn’t see. He couldn’t see Grayson’s face when he came, just heard the sharp exhale and felt Grayson pull out. Another sharp tug on his hair brought him back up to kneeling, and then Grayson was in front of him, condom in hand, and there was come dripping down his face, sticky and cooling.
Grayson took another picture. “Fucking fag,” he said. “Bet you loved every second of that.”
Jean didn’t answer. It wouldn’t matter what he said.
The pictures made it around the team the same way the stories did. Jean could see people hiding their phones when he was around, staring at the bite mark that he was fairly sure was going to scar, whispering and laughing. He saw Riko staring at his phone when he was jerking off, the next night Jean spent back in their own room, and knew what he was looking at. Everyone knew, and it shouldn’t have mattered, but every reminder of it was another sliver sneaking under Jean’s skin, only irritating individually but in aggregate adding up to an overwhelming fog of pain.
He played through it, as he always did. It didn’t matter what his teammates thought of his personal life. It mattered that they won.