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"He stinks like a fucking dog."
It's the one with the face of a rat who says it, his features all squeezed tight and weaselly. The other, who looks closer to a porpoise, big and rounded, still dressed in his blue skirmisher uniform, lets out a chuckle. "You don't smell much better, boss."
"Shut it. Not as bad as you, at least."
Standing next to each other, they look like the punchline to each other's jokes. And, it's true. They both stink terribly: sweat and blood, long-dried urine. Underneath it is the musty smell of human rot that has managed to permeate their thick leather boots. Who knows how long it's been since they've last changed their socks or even taken off their shoes. After so long braving the ice and snow, they must be afraid to see the state of their bare feet.
Alyosha knows. He knows the cold well. Better than most, even in Snezhnaya. She has always been a friend of his, a rival. Like most people in this land, his greatest enemy. His hands tied behind his back, stripped down to his underwear, he wishes that the blizzard rattling outside would break through the window and pour into the small, fire-lit cabin they've trapped him in. His cabin. He wants the cold to swallow them all because he knows that he will always find a way to survive her.
These two, clearly Fatui deserters, he thinks probably wouldn't have survived if he hadn't found them and brought them into the warmth.
"Still," says Porpoise, leaning in. Alyosha hates how easy it is to smell his breath even from behind the mask. He leans back, but the man grabs his face, squeezing his cheeks. "He's not too hard on the eyes."
Alyosha glares at him, but it only makes him chuckle again.
"Kinda looks like an old classmate of mine. Specially when he's all mad like that."
Ratface's hand is on Alyosha's bare arm. His fingers, blue at the tips, feel like ice. They rub his skin and Alyosha responds to his sudden burst of adrenaline by snapping at the Porpoise's hand.
"Whoa, watch it," Ratface barks, smacking Alyosha's head from behind in the same place they'd hit it earlier. Smashed him over the head with the plank of wood he used to bar the door against the snow as he was starting a fire for them. Alyosha's head droops from the pain, pounding in time with his heartbeats. "None of that, okay? Don't do anything that's gonna make us wanna stop being gentlemen."
"Try anything and you're dead," Alyosha says, not a warning but the solemn promise of a trained hunter. He gazes up through his hair at the two like the scope of his gun, as if he could shoot them through the heart with a look.
Ratface grabs his hair, pulling his head back this time. "Try it, boy. See what happens."
"Not like he can do anything all naked and tied up, anyway," says Porpoise. "Yep, that's it. That's how she used to look at me, too. Never figured out why she hated me so much."
As Porpoise speaks, he pulls off his gloves, then starts unbuckling his belt. Alyosha watches with a sense of muted horror until he pulls out his cock. Ratface curses as Alyosha tries to suddenly jerk away, managing to free himself from Ratface's grip before he's reeled back in by the rope tying his hands together. Immediately, the smell of him intensifies and Alyosha keeps pulling even as Ratface struggles to get control of him.
Porpoise laughs at the sight of the two of them, his hand around his cock. "You think he could be her brother or something?"
Alyosha lets out a sound of frustration as he's forced kicking onto the bed, Ratface half under him, his arms strapped around Alyosha's chest to keep him in place.
"Just accept it, boy," Ratface growls into his ear. "Be good and we'll be on our way when we're done. You'd already be dead if we wanted to kill you, so don't give us a reason."
"Touch me and I'll kill you," Alyosha hisses through gritted teeth, but this time it's Ratface who laughs.
"Good luck killing us before the Tsaritsa does. We're already dead, boy."
Dread hits Alyosha's stomach like a stone. Not that he expected his threats to work, but there are few things as dangerous as a man with nothing to lose.
The bed groans terribly as Porpoise crawls onto it, the rounded head of his cock visible poking just past the curve of his stomach. "Hey," he says as he puts a stinking hand on either one of Alyosha's ankles, prying his legs open with enough brute force that it makes Alyosha yelp. He strains to get them closed again as the hands crawl up his legs and thighs, but then there is someone between them and he gives up, twisting his body instead to try and get away. Once again, the man takes hold of his face, getting a good look at him. "You got a sister, kid?"
Alyosha screams in frustration, wriggling with all his strength. His body lifts up off the bed, but he's completely trapped now between the two larger bodies, Porpoise's cock sickeningly hot against his stomach. "Get off!" he yells. "Don't touch me!"
Porpoise tugs Alyosha's underwear off, leaving him completely bare. Alyosha gasps, momentarily frozen, exposed in a way he's never experienced before. There where times when he felt naked. When there was no cover of trees between him and his prey or enemies. He'd always assumed that was how it felt to be naked. The truth of it is different, though. He's never felt as humiliated as he does now, his body on display against his will. He'd never been so viscerally terrified of being seen as he is now.
There is a single, naive moment where he thinks that things can't get worse than this. And then Porpoise move his cock down between his legs and starts to rub against his ass and Alyosha realizes just how much more terrible things can get.
Ratface shifts under him. He moves more to the side, trying to get a better view.
Alyosha, a wounded animal trapped in a corner with a pair of hunters, does what any terrified animal would do in his situation. He twists his shoulders, opens his mouth wide, and closes it around Ratface's throat.
Before Ratface can even cry out, the blood bursts into his mouth. The noise of shock he makes is closer to a squelch than a shout, his hands flying up to Alyosha's face and flailing at either side of it like they don't know what to do. Alyosha digs in deep, swallowing the man's pulse blindly and letting it fill him with the manic, bestial energy that can only come from having extended your life at the expense of someone else's.
Porpoise cries out, trying to rip him away from his companion, but Alyosha growls like an animal, ripping at the flesh until Porpoise's fist comes down on his stomach. Alyosha coughs, mouth forced open as all the air leaves his body. Blood sputters from his lips, covering his mouth and jaw, all the way down his neck. It spurts out from Ratface's neck to soak into the bed and Alyosha's hair, and he laughs as Porpoise throws him off the bed to get to Ratface, making pathetic noises as he presumably tries to staunch the bleeding.
It's useless. Ratface is dead and Porpoise is next. While he's distracted, Alyosha just needs to get his Vision.
Still laughing, Alyosha rolls over onto his stomach, getting his knees under him so he can push himself up by his face. As soon as he's on his feet, he's running, making wet sounds against the wood. He's three steps away. Two. His gun clatters onto the ground as he bumps into it. He doesn't need to have his Vision in his hands to be able to use it. He can dissolve the ropes with electro. His gun is right there. Even if the doesn't have time to get to it, there are knives everywhere. All he needs is to get his hands free. The only reason he's in this mess is because they lowered his guard and caught him unaware.
Porpoise grabs him and throws him across the room. Alyosha lands painfully against the raised hearth, the bricks digging painfully into his back. He's dangerously close to the fire. Or maybe conveniently. He doesn't have the time to decide which before Porpoise is on top of him, his cock still out but no longer hard. "How dare you!" he cries as he rains his blows down on Alyosha's body, his weight making his fists feel like mallets. The first makes Alyosha grunt, but he's quiet after, unable to draw a single breath. His own silence makes it easier to hear Porpoise crying, the sound distorted by his mask.
Alyosha swears to himself that he won't die tonight. No matter what is done to him, he will keep a clear mind and find a way to survive.
His promises fall away, losing all meaning as Porpoise reaches over and picks up the gun. Alyosha's gun.
"You slut," he says, voice thick with despair. He kneels over Alyosha, pointing the gun down at him, finger on the trigger. "You killed him, you whore!"
I warned you. It's what Alyosha wants to say. What he might have said if he didn't have a gun pointed at his face and no air to form words in his lungs.
"Why couldn't you just... just..." Porpoise pushes the muzzle of the gun against Alyosha's cheek, pushing his head to the side with it. Alyosha doesn't know who's blood it is that drips from the corner of his mouth as he's forced to stare at the wall. "Fuck! He's gone. The boss is gone..."
He couldn't have been a very good boss if the two of them were running cross country from the Tsaritsa in the middle of a blizzard. This time, Alyosha is glad he doesn't have the capacity to voice his thoughts.
"I'll... I'm gonna..." The gun pushes against him more insistently. Alyosha angles his face as best he can so that a shot will only pierce his cheeks without doing too much damage to the rest of him. If Porpoise fires a shot, he can play dead.
Porpoise takes the gun away and pushes down on shoulder, pressing it into the corner of the brick and making Alyosha straighten, head rolling back in place. Leaning close to his face, Porpoise says, "I'm gonna make you pay."
A threat in his face is less impressive than a rifle.
Again, better that he's struggling to breathe.
This angle isn't as good as the first, but he thinks he can still survive a shot from this angle as the gun presses against his lips, grinding them against his teeth. He lets his mouth fall open and Porpoise presses the barrel in deeper the way Alyosha was hoping he might. It's easier to control the angle like this. The taste of metal fills his mouth as he tilts his head just slightly so the muzzle presses into the left of his soft palate.
He doesn't anticipate the shudder that goes through Porpoise. He stays like that for a moment, gun in Alyosha's mouth. His breath shudders as he draws it out to the tip, then slowly pushes back in, far enough into Alyosha's throat that it makes him twitch and gag.
"Sl-slut! You like that?"
He does it one more time for good measure, then starts to move in quicker, shallower motions that Alyosha doesn't recognize until he realizes how deep Porpoise has started to breathe. His cock rests against Alyosha's leg, where he can feel it twitch.
"Fine. I'll give you what you want."
Soft palate, Alyosha reminds himself though his mounting terror. He isn't sure what's going to happen to him so he clings to the comfort of having something he can control. Guide the barrel with your soft palate and the bullet shouldn't pierce anything important.
Porpoise pulls the gun out of Alyosha's mouth and turns around, sitting on his hips. Alyosha pants, confused even as his legs are forced farther apart. He struggles anyway, attempting to knee Porpoise in the face until he feels cold metal press into his balls.
"Stop moving," Porpoise growls, and Alyosha listens. He listens for a time. The muzzle of the gun leaves his balls and travels further down, gliding over his spread ass to his hole. For the second time that night, Alyosha feels something press against his barriers, trying to invade his body.
"No!" he cries, his voice cracking around the word. His body jerks up as he tries to run from what's about to happen.
"If you don't stop, I'm gonna shoot your damn cock off."
Alyosha feels humiliated by himself, so caught up in his own terror that he can't even control his voice as he begs, "Stop! D-do--don't!"
He feels like a child. Why did he think he had any control over the situation? Why did he even try to fight? He should have just let them violate him.
"No," he whines, the back of his head pressing painfully into the brick as he feels his gun being pushed into himself. At one point, Porpoise spits and Alyosha feels the man's finger rubbing it in, helping to slick the metal so he can slide it deeper into Alyosha's trembling body. His ass burns from the way it stretches around the barrel, which feels so much bigger than it had in his mouth, so much colder. The muzzle feels sharp inside him, scratching him from the inside, and the barrel is so hard it feels like if he moves too much it will crush his innards. Despite that, he can't stop the way his body tenses around the foreign sensation almost experimentally, making him gasp and arch from the pain, legs shuddering as Porpoise just keeps trying to force more inside of him. Neither can he stop his own pathetic begging, his eyes burning from the shame. "Nononono, it won't go far--THER, take it--take it out--"
The door to the cabin slams open and Alyosha does not scream. He feels it in his throat but holds it in, face tense, sure that he's been shot. From this angle, there's nothing he can do. He's dead.
It isn't until Porpoise scrambles off of him that he starts to realize that he isn't.
"Foooound you," says a voice that Alyosha thinks he recognizes but can't place.
"Let me," Porpoise starts to say. He isn't even allowed to finish the sentence before his blood splashes over the walls. Alyosha's eyes are good enough that he sees what happens clearly but it still takes a moment to process. Porpoise is cut off by his own grunt, his body shuddering. He lets out a croak, and then the sword stabbed into his stomach is visible for nothing but a second as it leaves his body through his side and dissolves into nothing.
The cabin roof shakes as Porpoise falls to his knees, then forward toward the open door. Alyosha shivers as he looks up at his savior, features blurring slightly through a film of tears, but the red hair and cloak are unmistakable. Childe, The Eleventh Harbinger. The shame he feels at having a Harbinger see him like this pales only to his enormous relief that he's not going to be killed by a bullet from his own gun, the one being used to rape him.
Tears choke him at the thought. He shouldn't be crying or feeling bad for himself. It was his own weakness that got him here, humiliated.
Childe doesn't say anything at first. Alyosha can tell that he's being watched, Childe only taking short glances around the room to assess the situation. He lets out a single, breathless-sounding laugh as he closes the door behind him.
"Hel..p..." The word is hard to get out. He's not used to saying it. "...please.... help me..."
"Big brother."
Alyosha sniffles without meaning to. "Huh?"
"Call me big brother."
"B...big brother...?"
Childe stands, unmoving. "Now ask me to help."
In a way, Alyosha understands what Childe wants. The basic instruction, at least, he understands. He doesn't have the capacity to consider why he's being asked to do it until it's too late.
His voice cracking again from the strain of trying not to outright sob, Alyosha said, "H...help me, big brother..."
It's the sound of Childe's breath that makes Alyosha realize that he may have made a mistake. Alyosha listens to Childe fill his lungs in a deep breath, listens to the way he holds it, senses the building tension in his body, and knows instinctively before Childe even opens his mouth or puts a hand on him that he has once more found himself prey, this time to a much stronger predator.
"Don't worry," Childe says, his voice lower, deceptively soothing. Alyosha flinches as he steps closer. It's hard to move with his rifle jammed up inside of him, but he tries to scoot away with his legs.
"Don--"
Panic seems to travel up his throat, or maybe it's nausea, and it makes him snap his mouth closed as Childe steps between his legs, one foot on either side of the gun. Alyosha's trembling so hard that the gun trembles, too, some metal component making a clicking noise as it hits the wood floor. The rational part of him tells him that this is better. A Harbinger won't kill him without a reason. This one won't, anyway. Being raped is better than being raped and killed. From a Harbinger, some people might even think of it as an honor.
Childe kneels between his legs, his hand moving for Alyosha's head, rubbing over his bloodstained hair like he might a pet. Alyosha freezes, unable even to cry anymore. The way Childe touches him is affectionate but his eyes are empty of warmth, his smile chilling as he moves his hand to the side of Alyosha's face. The blood there is has gone sticky, flaking in some places. He sees it on Childe's palm as he takes his hand away, moves it down to Alyosha's side. Again, Alyosha flinches, his breath coming to him in gasps. He can't fight back this time. He can't let himself fight back.
Before his eyes, Childe starts to undress. He takes off his thick, snow-battered Harbinger's cloak first, then the jacket he has under it, then his shirt. Melting snow drips from his hair down onto Alyosha's thighs and abdomen. As he unbuckles his belt, he puts a gloved hand next to Alyosha's head on the bricks, leaning in so their foreheads are nearly touching. His voice is low, dangerous but delighted, as he says, "Big brother is here."
And then he's being smothered. Alyosha makes a sound, his body jerking in surprise, not realizing that he's being kissed and not strangled until Childe's tongue pushes into his mouth. Again, he's being invaded by a foreign object, between his legs and one between his lips. His body locks down, tightening around the gun, pushing it against his tender, raw insides. Childe's tongue squirms against his, feasting on his bloodied lips, pressing up against the roof of his mouth. The vibrations of Childe's moan fill Alyosha's throat and Alyosha reacts on instinct.
Blood that isn't his own bursts into his mouth for the second time that night, and he doesn't even have time to feel terrified that he's doomed himself again. Immediately, Childe reacts, his weight dropping down onto Alyosha's body, once more pressing his back painfully against the edge of the bricks. He only kisses Alyosha deeper, letting out a groan that scares Alyosha more than the feeling of the man's cock, pressing full and hot just to the right of his hip bone. One of Childe's arms moves around his head as if to cradle it, his other moving down to Alyosha's leg, sliding down his thigh to grab his knee and pull it up.
The angle changes the way the gun pushes against him, making him whimper even before he realizes Childe's real purpose. With a grunt, Childe grinds against him, pressing his cock against Alyosha's, and Alyosha's body jerks from the shock, his teeth loosening around Childe's tongue.
Childe takes the opportunity to break the kiss, spit mixing with blood to form a deep red line between their mouths. "Don't be scared," he says, rolling his hips again and smiling at the panic that flickers across Alyosha's face, the whimper that he isn't able to suppress. He starts to move his hips in a steady rhythm, chuckling as Alyosha's body twitches under him. "Big brother's gonna make it all better."
Then they're kissing again. Alyosha tries not to bite, but his teeth cling every time the gun shifts in him, every time Childe sighs into his mouth in a way that scares him. And when his whimpers start to change, when the fear turns into something electric that travels his body, his skin flushing, hips rising subtly to meet Childe's movements. Childe leaves his mouth to kiss a bloody trail down his neck, and Alyosha turns his head to the other side, letting him. He shakes still, but he also moans, his voice sounding small and vulnerable to his own ears.
It feels good, but it's not supposed to. He's been around enough soldiers that he knows what sex is, of course. He knows what rape is. Some of them will talk about it openly. They'll do it to each other, to their subordinates, to their enemies. It's such a fact of life that they'll make jokes, sometimes. I think he liked it, one will say. The implication being that he's not supposed to. A normal person wouldn't.
Both of their cocks are hard now, the glide of their movements slick with sweat or discharge, Alyosha doesn't want to think of which. But the wetness makes it feel better. The hotter his body gets, the better everything seems to feel, too, the ache in his ass tempering until even that feels... not good, at least, but not as intrusive. It moves inside of him almost constantly as he shifts, stirring and scraping against his guts, weighed down by the heavy wood and metal of the butt.
"T-take..." He hates the sound of his voice, thick with both fear and desire. The sound of it makes him want to cry again, and he doesn't have the willpower left to stop himself, stomach twisting into humiliated knots as his shoulders tremble and he lets out a shuddering sob. "Take the gun out. Take it out."
Childe doesn't pause, doesn't even seem to hear him. He sucks at a spot on Alyosha's neck, his teeth far more gentle against the delicate skin than Alyosha had been. When he releases Alyosha's knee, it isn't to pull the gun out of him, but to wrap a hand around their cocks, squeezing them together. The sensation forces a sound Alyosha's never made before out of his body, high and keening. His body arches, bricks biting into his skin, hips bucking into the blindingly tight, hot grip of Childe's hand.
"Th-the gun!" he squeaks, twisting his body to try and get away. "Please!"
The feeling of Childe thrusting against him is utterly overwhelming, white hot pleasure mixing with panic and the knowledge that he won't last long like this. He tries harder to twist, to roll out from under Childe's weight, but Childe forces him back into place and holds him there with the movements of his hips, the pleasure like a shackle.
"Cum first," Childe mutters, his lips close to Alyosha's ear. "Cum with it inside you and I'll take it out."
His hips jerk in a particularly rough thrust, and Alyosha doesn't have a choice anyway. His body arches up, falls back down, moves beyond his control as it chases its own end. The muzzle scrapes his inner walls, bruises them, and Alyosha sobs, moans, chokes as he tries to take a gasping breath and Childe's lips smother him again.
He fucks against Alyosha hard, fast, and Alyosha can't keep up, can't breathe. He's aware, vaguely, that he's biting Childe's tongue again, sucking on it, clinging in whatever way he can as the pleasure explodes and his body jerks, presses up to Childe's and breaks against him. Alyosha cums like he never has before, his hands flexing and unflexing under him, wanting something to hold onto as the world seems to spin around him. It feels like he's falling, like he's pissing cum up onto Childe's chest.
"No!" he hears himself crying even as Childe laughs, milking his cock. His nerves feel like they're going fuzzy, the world hazy but bright. Even when he touches himself, it doesn't feel this good. There's something wrong with him.
Childe kisses him again, soft this time, telling him how good he did, and Alyosha whines against his lips, "Take it out..."
Again, Childe laughs. Alyosha's eyes have gone hazy again, but he opens them to look up at him, at the way he seems to consider what to do next. When Childe locks eyes with him, it sends a shiver down his spine, a single quick chill coursing through his sweaty, overheated body.
"Call me big brother," Childe says.
Nausea, this time. Alyosha feels sick with himself before the words even leave his lips, sick with the knowledge that he will do anything this man wants, be whatever he needs. "Big... brother..." Alyosha's lips tremble, his breath shuddering. "T-take it out..."
Up close, it's easier to see what it does to him. Childe's eyes widen almost imperceptibly, his breath quickening, his expression softening even as his eyes go hard. The more turned on he is, Alyosha thinks, the deader his eyes look. They look like they belong to a different person, like they've been placed on his face by someone else. It's like there are two people living in his body and neither of them has complete control over the other, only visible up close like this, in the schism between his affects and his actions, his inner and outer.
Alyosha averts his eyes. He doesn't want to see anymore.
"Let big brother help you."
Childe kisses down his body, leaving red smears against Alyosha's skin. He stops at Alyosha's navel, making him whine as he licks into it, sucking like he expects something to come out. Alyosha's stomach tenses, fluttering as Childe looks up at him, tongue stuck in his bellybutton. He's gotten cum on his face, probably from Alyosha's stomach. It's everywhere, he realizes with horror. Childe has been eating the cum off of him.
As he moves down, Childe spreads Alyosha's legs, kissing the soft skin at the base of his spent cock, making Alyosha's body convulse as he licks over his balls and sucks one into his mouth, rolling it over his tongue.
"Stop!" Alyosha yelps, sharp and confused, scared, and Childe pulls off with a pop that makes Alyosha jump. He pants, testicle throbbing. It's not painful but disorienting, and he feels like crying again as Childe nuzzles where he sucked.
"Relax," Childe tells him. "It's going to hurt if you're so tense."
It's then that Alyosha realizes Childe has a hand on the gun. He gives it an experimental tug, and Alyosha clamps down like a vice, breath coming hard and fast. Childe is able to pull it most of the way out regardless, the metal barrel sliding out smoothly until the muzzle catches on the rim of Alyosha's ass. It must be the front sight. That's what's been scraping him all this time. It doesn't make sense how such a tiny fin of metal can feel so huge.
"Relax," Childe reminds him.
"I ca--I can't, I can't." His voice is frantic, body only locking down the more he thinks about it. "I don't know ho--AH!"
Childe's lips lock around his soft cock. Immediately, Alyosha is overstimulated, the heat too much, the softness of his tongue. Alyosha's hands struggle against the ropes binding them, desperate to push him away. He doesn't like the idea of his cock in Childe's mouth, close to his teeth, any more than he does his balls, but the sensation of this is undeniably better. Good and bad. His body isn't ready to be touched again, his nerves still raw and oversensitive.
"St-stop--STO--mmph--"
His outburst is muffled by Childe's fingers shoving their way into his mouth. Alyosha doesn't even have time to bite before Childe starts moving them in and out in rough careless motions that press past his molars into the softness of his cheek. Fucking his mouth. The thought, the memory of the gun doing the same thing to him, is enough to make Alyosha gag, but it's distracting, too. The motion in his mouth distracts him from the way Childe sucks on his cock, and Childe sucking on his cock distracts him from the horror of having his mouth invaded like this again. Alyosha's legs flail, kicking at Childe with his heels as he does his best to bite down around the fingers in his mouth.
He doesn't even notice that the gun is out of him until Childe relents, letting his now hard cock flop back against his stomach, where it throbs painfully. Alyosha releases his fingers, gasping for breath and looking up with wide, shocked eyes at his gun, finally free of him. Childe holds it over his head so he can see, then sets it aside to gather Alyosha in his arms. He pulls him up against him, onto his lap first and then into the air. Alyosha's stomach does flips as his hands once more scrabble for something to hold onto.
Childe carries him over to the bed where Ratface still lies in a puddle of his own blood. "You fought them well," Childe says as he sets Alyosha there, face-down in the blood soaked blankets. He props up his hips, one hand on either side of Alyosha's ass, fondling the meat and pulling it apart. "You did your best to save yourself. I bet they weren't expecting so much fight from a pretty thing like you."
There's a pause before something warm moves over his hole and slowly start to sink in. A finger. Childe's.
Alyosha makes a sound in the back of his throat. Blood from the man he killed slicks his face as he presses it further into the softness of the bed. It's better than the alternative, he reminds himself frantically. Childe's finger starts to move in and out of him the way it had in his mouth, still wet with his spit, and if he presses his face deep enough into the bed he could almost convince himself he hadn't started crying again.
One finger becomes two, which Childe uses to loosen his already aching ass. He's gentle at first, but seems to lose patience as his movements get rougher, more eager. Hooking a pair of fingers in Alyosha's ass, he spreads it open as far as he can as Alyosha cries out, body flinching away in protest.
"Is it your first time?"
The question takes a second for Alyosha to process. His head is spinning, buried so far in the bed he can barely breathe. Without looking up, he gives a short, embarrassed nod.
Childe's fingers pull out of him, and he moves, draping himself over Alyosha so he can kiss his shoulder. "You're a good boy," he says, voice low as he lines his cock up.
Alyosha responds with a sound, something like a cough, or maybe a gag. It feels like he's choking on his own tongue. He's afraid that he'll accidentally bite it off if he's not careful. Even in this position, there's a sense that there's something he can do to stop this. That he needs to stop it. He digs his nails into Childe's chest where it presses painfully against his bound hands, struggling one final time.
The way Childe touches him is almost romantic now. He holds onto Alyosha firmly, whispering into his hair. "Fighting so hard to save yourself for big brother."
Childe's cock pushes into his body in one long, smooth motion, not stopping until his hips are resting flush against Alyosha's ass. Alyosha feels his body stretching terribly, painfully, full beyond capacity but forced to contort itself to make room. It feels like he goes even deeper than the gun, throbbing hot and deep, his head bulbous and uncomfortable where it nestles into the farthest reaches of Alyosha's body.
The fight drains from him. He feels it leave his body, feels what was left of his pride leave with it. Alyosha hadn't realized it was still there until it's gone and he understands, finally and truly, that there's nothing he can do. All his fighting has gotten him is back where he started, pinned to the bed by an even stronger foe.
Alyosha lies there, frozen and powerless, as Childe fucks him.