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The medbay door clicks open; the rusty hinges groan low and long. Curly stands just outside the threshold, watching, observing. Jimmy is here also—as predicted—crouching in front of one of their few beds, fiddling with the lockbox Anya mentioned to Curly a few days prior. Curly shuts the door with more force than intended, locking it then tossing the key onto the counter and watching it slide into the sink. He then pulls a water bottle out of his side pocket and downs the whole thing in seconds, tossing the plastic into the recycling bin.
Jimmy grabs at the air as the lockbox is snatched away. He whips around, an insult dangling off the tip of his tongue as he takes in Curly’s appearance. The top half of his uniform is unbuttoned, one arm out of its sleeve. His face is sullen, his eyes alone stare down the slope of his nose at the man crouched on the floor rather than crouching with him like normal.
“Curly.. Gracing us with your presence? Mingling with the common folk?” The joking nature Jimmy took on was—to Curly—clearly superficial. His eyes were opened now, he sees the impudence and grobiance weaved within said man’s very being.
“Jim.” The blond’s response is short and cold, Jimmy almost doesn’t recognize it as his name. There’s a tinge of resignation poorly hidden.
“Don’t wear it out.” Jimmy finally stands up, arms crossed; clearly he feels as though he’s on the defense. Curly’s eyes seamlessly follow Jimmy on his way up.
“Something you need to tell me? Anything at all?” Curly questions after a mild stretch of silence. The blond man looks past Jimmy at his own reflection in the wall-mounted screen. Even he can tell he sounds the farthest thing from concerned, welcoming, or friendly.
“Not if you don’t.” Jimmy quips, his fingers seem to be moving against his own bicep in a repeated pattern the other man couldn’t be bothered to figure out.
“Nothing? Ok, what about interpersonal relationships? Are you and Swansea finally getting along?” Curly takes the smallest step forward, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. This motion puts him in a position to continue looking down his nose at Jimmy.
“No, and I don’t think we ever will.” Jimmy eyes Curly warily, trying to step back but ending up stepping on the wheels of the clinic bed.
“Huh.. bummer. What about Anya? How have you been treating her?” Curly doesn’t truly sound bummed, disappointed feels more accurate. He’s disappointed his co-captain is forcing his hand; he expected more—expected better.
“Don’t— I’m not listening to this again, Curly. I told you I’m trying to make amends, not fucking miracles!” Jimmy quickly shouts back, staring at Curly with hardened eyes. He leans slightly forward, one hand clutching his chest while the other extends outward.
“You said that, but that doesn’t necessarily make it true.” Curly stills his back and forth movement, bringing both hands down harshly on Jimmy’s shoulders. The force of impact jostles the brunet, said man looks up at Curly heavily frowning with slightly parted lips.
Curly stares back at the man for a long while, visually at war with himself. He knows he’s waited too long, that he should’ve done something sooner. Part of Curly wanted to believe that whatever went down was a fling that they regretted, but that was slowly being proven false the longer he sat back. The manner in which they interacted when it was assumed they were alone, the dismissal anytime Anya’s name was brought up, avoiding Swansea.. He should’ve known it hadn’t—wouldn’t—get any better. How foolish he was.
“Listen, if it bothers you that much I’ll apologize. Geez.. back up, man.” Jimmy attempts to rid his shoulders of the crushing grip that is Curly, but he’s not nearly as strong—never took physical strength seriously enough to compare. He figured as long as he could over power a woman he’d have nothing else to worry about.
“Mm… you could do that, but I don’t—“ he pauses, tilting his head and chewing on his bottom lip with that same conflicted look, “—I don’t think that’s enough, Jim.” The blond reinforces his grip, doing that uncomfortable massage (that fathers or uncles tend to do) that’s more painful and rubbing your joints the wrong way than comforting.
“..What? Don’t try being the hero now, what’s done is done. You could’ve been there to save her, but you weren’t, you were wrapped up in your work—securing your future or whatever.” Jimmy spits the words off his tongue like poison, trying once more to free himself to no avail. Now the panic is starting to set in.
“I was ignorant—I admit—very blind as well. I let you get away with a lot of shit, and like you said, this crew is my responsibility. You understand that right, Jim?” Curly’s voice is low and honeyed, his thick hands drag down the sides of Jimmy’s arms—nearly taking his sleeves with them—before ultimately settling on the slightly shorter man’s elbows. Suddenly, Jimmy is lifted into the air then slammed onto the cold concrete floor, his lungs hastily emptied. He grabs and scratches at Curly’s forearms, desperately scrambling for freedom.
Curly’s hands are everywhere, tearing at zippers, digging his fingertips into rough flesh. This is not what he thought the blond meant. Curly stares straight down at Jimmy’s terrified expression—eyes vacant—and wonders if the brunet is thinking of Anya, wonders if the man beneath him is regretting his actions yet.
Jimmy struggles like his life depends on it, mainly focusing on Curly’s hands. He grabs at them, tries to wrench them free—or at least put up enough of a fight for the man above to reconsider. Curly knows his point has been made by now, he feels the helplessness slowly seeping into the brunet, sees the frantic attempts to free himself. He can stop now, but did Jimmy?
Jimmy is on his stomach in record time, still kicking and grabbing at anything while Curly tears the brunet’s uniform bottoms open at the seam. His heart beats erratically, neck straining to get a good look at Curly and whatever that metal clanging is. It sounds like hinges.. the door hopefully? Maybe someone has come to save him. Jimmy stills for a moment—fully believing his rescuer has come, but then he wonders how that might look. How would he look just lying here taking it rather than fighting for his dignity or freedom or both?
The brunet decides then to up the ante, yelling for help, grabbing at clothes. Hearing that ‘telltale’ sound of metal scraping the ground fills Jimmy with renewed vigour, though it sounds.. different than usual—more compact. The door must be opening, right? Jimmy’s head swims when the barrel of the pistol cracks down on his temple a number of times he’s unsure of, his teeth clack painfully against the concrete. Everything stills for a moment, and for that one sacred moment Jimmy hoped—prayed—Curly had come to his senses. Jimmy takes in a deep breath, holds it, then lets it all out in one sharp exhale as if celebrating too soon.
He’s focused on the lack of movement or struggle, not the rustling clothes behind him. Not until an arm is holding his face against the ground, a thick cock splitting his ass open. The pain is searing, warm blood dribbling onto the floor. Jimmy’s stomach feels as though it’s turning inside out—feels like daring to scream will spill his guts.
Jim grunts hard, like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. He’s not fighting back, not struggling for freedom. His nails splinter and bend back from the force he’s putting into gripping the ground, his teeth dig into his bottom lip until the taste of pennies fill his mouth. His chest scrapes across the ground, littering with abrasions each time blond tufts of hair meet the cleft of Jimmy’s ass.
“So fucking tight..” Curly mumbles as though it’s a secret, his head resting against Jimmy’s shoulder blade—hips slamming rhythmically home. If it weren’t for the blood he’d be dry as all hell, it almost feels exactly like lube. Curly’s cock coats just as nicely, slides in just as easy.
Jimmy’s eyes burn with tears dripping steadily onto the ground beneath him. He feels teeth scrape his shoulder blade, hot breath fanning across his back.
“Fuck-.. You have no idea how long its been since the last time my balls were emptied… I might fill you up… You want to be filled? Want to look pregnant?” Curly’s lips graze the brunet’s neck, his voice a murmur.
The hand holding the gun is brought down next to Jimmy’s head, bracing against the cold concrete floor. Brown eyes—although smushed nearly closed under the weight of Curly—zero in on his form of escape. Immediately Jimmy’s closest hand slaps down on top of Curly’s, pathetically fumbling to regain control despite knowing how it’ll end.
“Come on, Jim, be a good boy. Don’t make me use this on you- just let me cum.” Curly pleads, smacking the barrel of the gun against the back of Jimmy head repeatedly. “Don’t you wanna cum too? I bet you do..” The blond wraps his arm securely around Jimmy’s neck, his face tucked away in greasy brown hair. “How long has it been since the last time you violated our nurse? Has it been hard for you to resist? Bet your balls are just as full as mine.”
Jimmy’s stomach churns, dangerously close to expelling its contents. How embarrassing would that be? To be proven weak in every aspect.. Jim does his best to choke it back down despite the revolting taste.
Curly’s arm tightens around the brunet’s neck, some sick part of him enjoys hearing Jimmy’s airways constrict. He feels warm tears drip down onto his forearm, and for a moment he’s tempted to lick them straight off Jimmy’s face. What if he uses this gun? Would Jimmy cry some more? Beg and sob for his life? If he choked the man with all his might would the lack of air bring about more tears? Eh, that’s not good enough. Curly wants genuine tears, not watery eyes as a result of the bodies natural functions.
With the gun still in his hand, Curly abruptly pulls out, the combination of bodily fluids accumulating inside Jimmy squelch obscenely. The coolness of the medbay makes his shoulders tighten, all the blood coating his cock does nothing in his favor. The back of Jimmy’s head smacks against the ground as he’s flipped like a pancake, now on his back.
Curly tears his uniform even more than it had been before in order to expose the shorter man’s cock. It’s smaller than he’d imagined. Short and stubby like the thumbs of an obese man. His balls are big and round, drawn up tight and tensed. Dark, coarse pubic hair envelops half the man’s length.
Both Curly’s thick hands encompass the brunet’s neck, his grip rivalling that of Jimmy’s previously virgin asshole. The shorter man struggles for air, wheezes and gasps. His broken nails dig into Curly’s skin, the jagged edges snag on blond arm hair.
Curly plunges his cock balls deep without any warning. It’s a lot more bearable this time, but really Jimmy isn’t worried about whatever is going on down there when his brain is screaming at him to get oxygen into his lungs or die. His head aches and—despite the concrete floor being so frigid—something feels warm beneath it, his eyes burn with unshed tears, and his throat practically on fire.
Jimmy’s face progressively reddens, eyes included. They feel like they’re going to burst out of their sockets or pop like overheated hardboiled eggs. The brunet’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly, his body seemingly forgetting all it’s meant to do in the face of imminent death.
The thick, pistoning cock suddenly throbs and Jimmy is brought back to the present, finally able to see the man above him. Curly is saying something, something degrading no doubt, but he can’t be heard over the loud ringing in Jimmy’s ears. Huh, ears... Those feel hot too. Curly’s eyes are devouring his very being, taking in his nearly lifeless form like a hot feast. His bottom lip all bitten and bruised. Fat, heavy balls make repeated impact against his ass.
Jimmy’s little dick begins to stir to life. Through the haze in his brain, he unwillingly debates if it’s the se- rape or the look on Curly’s face... Like he’s taking the highest form of pleasure out of all of this. He decides that is something he’d rather completely ignore, write on a piece of paper then burn it.
Unluckily for him Curly notices, as he always does. He notices the once flaccid, floppy little thing is smacking against Jimmy’s lower belly rather than laying uselessly between his legs. Curly finally releases Jimmy’s neck in favor of grabbing his cock, it being completely covered with just one fist.
“Want to cum with me? Say yes, come on- I need it.” Curly’s voice is gruff and taut with the need to get his rocks off. The blond moans shamelessly now, his fist a blur pumping the smaller man’s cock.
Jimmy attempts to force his legs closed amidst his uncontrollable coughing and hacking only to have them forced and held back open. The brunet’s forearms cover his face, his torso squirms as if that’ll help him avoid the impending orgasm. His cock twitches once, twice in Curly’s fist, the most pathetic whine crawls it’s way up the smaller man’s throat. Cum dribbles through the gaps between Curly’s fingers. He has half a mind to shove those fingers in Jimmy’s mouth, make him suck it all off.
“Not too far behind you, Jim.." Curly's bottom lip is trapped between his teeth, his cum covered hand gripping the underside of Jimmy’s thigh. What’s supposed to be a rhythmic slapping of skin is quietened by the uniform in the way.
The tight coil in the pit of Curly’s stomach finally snaps, his cock bursting with ropes of thick white cum that seem to never end. A low, short grunt passes Curly’s lips, his eyes squeeze shut. The blond’s mouth drops open, but no sound escapes. He mouths the words ‘oh fuck’, drool dripping onto the front of Jimmy’s uniform.
Curly sneaks a hand beneath where he and Jimmy are connected, kneading and massaging his balls. Every few seconds they tighten and draw up close to his perineum, an unimaginable bout of pleasure wracks through his body. The blond feels like he could puke or cry or...
Jimmy loses consciousness a few seconds into Curly pumping him full of his load, and when he comes to he’s still getting filled. What’s worse is his stomach feels all tight and bloated like it would after a big lunch and lots of beverages minus the gas. The back of his head is cold and his hair is soaked, the ache is still there but dulled into a throb. His eyes still ache, and his ass is numb, but it’s almost over surely.
Jimmy lifts his head off the floor, blinking rapidly at his torso and choosing to ignore the sound his head made when it left the concrete. His stomach is big and protruding, it hurts a fuck ton. His belly button is even flattened.
“What is that.. What is that? Orion, what did you do to me?” Jimmy’s words are heavily slurred, his head swims. For the first time in this entire encounter he actually retches, and unfortunately pisses a little. He tries his best not to panic, not to show weakness, but he feels like something inside him has ruptured.
“I told you I’d fill you up, didn’t I? Fuck, I needed that.” Curly sits back on his heels, his head looking up toward the ceiling, arms limp by his side. His face scrunches up before he pushes himself up onto his feet with a groan.
“Stay right there. I got a little more to give you, baby.” The blond’s eyes are once again on Jimmy, but this look is unlike any the brunet had ever seen directed at him. It’s devoid of any emotion. The bigger man grabs hold of his softening cock, a stream of hot piss hitting the smaller man directly in the face. He sputters and shouts before ultimately deciding to keep his mouth shut lest he get a mouthful of piss. For the smallest second, Jimmy is a little thankful for it; It being warm and him being so cold. He wants to turn his face up into it, hold his hands out and run it through his hair. It's over sooner than expected.
“Carling, you bastard. Take me to a fucking nurse." Jimmy grits out, eyeing the abandoned pistol on the floor. His stomach gurgles uncomfortably under the clenching of his abdominal muscles.
“You’ll be alright. Walk it off, wrap that head up, and stay near the bathroom." Curly vaguely gestures toward Jimmy’s head, tucking his cock back into his underwear. He follows the brunet’s line of sight, swiftly scooping up the pistol as well as it’s case and tucking it under his arm.
Jimmy scowls at his hope and revenge getting farther and farther out of his reach. Only when he tries to stand does he remember he’s bloated like a puffer fish, cum shooting out of his ass like a water gun. “Fuck you.”
“You know, Anya will look like this in eight months when she’s heavily pregnant with your child. I know she told you. I assume that's why you were trying to crack the code for this case. In the meantime, stay away from her and maybe talk to Swansea about getting that uniform patched up. Next time you give me something to confront you about, I'm using this on you." Curly then pulls the pistol from under his arm, holding it in front of the brunet's face. He waits and waits in silence but gets no response other than the loud gurgling of Jimmy's upset stomach.
"I mean it this time." Curly takes the time to place the pistol back in its case, locking it and scrambling up the combination. "You'll be shitting and pissing cum for a while, don't sit here and get it all over the floor."