Note to readers:
This story contains nonconsensual sex between men. If nonconsent or reluctance isn't your thing, feel free to move on. Otherwise, enjoy.
*****
Evyn slumped down against his door, holding his head in his hands and quivering all over. He knew it was coming tonight. He'd just seen Jeremy in the hall, he'd seen that hungry look in the man's eyes, and that vicious smile spreading across his lips.
For the ten millionth time since it started, he considered calling the police. He knew where the men lived, he knew their first names, and he knew what they looked like. He knew that John, the bigger of the two, had a long, jagged scar on the outside of his thigh.
He knew that both of them were circumcised.
Another shudder went through him at the thought, and he shut his eyes tightly, trying to push that image out of his mind. His muscles involuntarily tensed as he remembered the last time they'd been in his apartment.
He could call the police. He
should
call the police. Any normal, sane person would.
So why couldn't he bring himself to do it? What the hell was wrong with him? He knew that this would continue for as long as he lived in the apartment, and there was no guarantee it would stop if he moved somewhere else.
No, the only way to ensure it would stop forever was to call the police, and ask for help. They'd protect him, and put the men responsible behind bars for a very long time.
Wouldn't they? He'd heard of plenty of others like them getting released almost immediately, or only serving short sentences. What would happen if they were released? What would they do to him after they tracked him down? Would he even survive that?
Not very likely.
So he sighed, lowering his head even further, and blinking back tears. By now, he knew the routine. The two brothers, John and Jeremy, would enter his apartment using the spare key they'd taken during one of their early visits.
They'd grab him, carry him to his bed, and remove his clothes. For the next forty-five minutes or so, they'd torture and rape him, violating him in the worst imaginable ways, and leave him exhausted and sobbing.
But then,
she
would come.
Evyn never learned her name. Every time he asked, she'd simply smile and kiss his forehead gently. And he never knew who she was. Was she with the men? How did she always know to come into the apartment just as they were putting their clothes back on? It certainly didn't seem like she liked them very much. She was always abrupt and sharp with them, and ordered them to leave.
But if she wasn't with them, who was she? How did she know what they did to him? How did she know when they attacked him? And why did she only come after they were finished? Why didn't she come earlier, and save him from them?
So many questions, and she never answered any of them. But she was gentle with him, and kind, and loving. She held him close, she cleaned him up, and she stayed with him until the next morning, so he wouldn't be alone.
He was completely, irrevocably in love with her.
Was that part of the reason why he didn't call the police? Because it would mean he'd never see her again?
Oh God, how pathetic was that? What kind of person would allow himself to be raped over and over again, just for a few hours with a woman he knew nothing about?
He wished he was different. He wished he was big enough and strong enough to fight them off. Despite being an average height of 5'11, he'd always been skinny. Weak. Most people thought he looked much younger than his 19 years. Short black hair framed a boyish face with blue eyes and pale skin. Some people called him a "pretty boy," whatever that meant.
Apparently, it meant that rapists found him appealing.
Groaning, Evyn willed himself to rise to his feet, willed his trembling body to obey him. He wasn't going to call the police. There was nothing he could do but wait, the fear and anticipation making his heart pound in his chest.
He didn't have to wait long. Less than an hour later, he heard a key in the lock, and his heart rate tripled as the door opened.
"Wait," he murmured, rising from where he sat on the couch. The two men entered the room, closing the door behind them, and slowly approached him, dark lust in their eyes.
"No, wait. Please."
Now, he regretted not having called the police. Dread overwhelmed him to the point that it was difficult to breathe, and tears stung his eyes.
The men didn't answer. They never really said much to him, aside from the occasional order or command. No, they simply used him, took their pleasure from his pain, and then left.
Evyn's eyes were wide with fear as he backed away. His back hit the wall, and his heart pounded as the men neared him. He couldn't stop the tears now.
"Please," he begged, wrapping his arms around himself as he felt that old familiar hole shredding through his chest. "Please, don't."
But, just like every other time, they didn't respond. They reached him, grabbed him by his arms, and half pushed, half carried him to the bed. At least they weren't unnecessarily cruel. They never beat him, or used any painful devices on him, or anything like that.
Well, except for once. After one of their early visits, shortly after they took his spare key, he'd tried installing one of those chain door locks, hoping that it would be enough to deter them.
He'd been wrong. John, the larger and stronger of the two, had easily broken through the lock, tearing it off of the doorframe. And Evyn had paid dearly for his mistake. They'd used him, just as they always did, but when they were done, John held him down on his stomach while Jeremy left the apartment.
After a few minutes, he'd returned, with a terrifying piece of steel in one hand, and a smaller, equally terrifying piece of steel in the other. He explained that the first was a locking butt plug, and the second was a locking prince's wand. They spent some time showing him exactly what each item was, how each of them worked. They showed him exactly what they were going to do to him.