Title: "Painful Awakening"
Author: dash_x_marshall
Rating: Evil Dildo
Pairing: Brian/?
Summary: Poor Brian has a nasty encounter with an intruder...  This is my first Slash fic, and -believe it or not- probably my first short story ever!  I've started many long stories, but I never seem to finish them...
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Painful Awakening

    Brian slowly peeled his face off the sofa, where his open mouth had left a huge puddle of drool. At first he wasn't sure what had awakened him from his alcohol-induced slumber. Then the sound came again, and he remembered.
    *Someone at the bloody door!*
    It was a hell of time for somebody to be coming round. Or at least Brian assumed it to be. The last time he had been able to see the clock, before it had become too blurred, it had been nearly 2 am. And as it was still dark outside, it was either the middle of the night -or else he had slept the whole day away and it was evening once again.
    The banging at the door grew louder, a veritable hammering that was making his head hurt.
    "Fuck off!" Brian called out to the person on the other side of the door.
    There was a moment of blessed silence in which Brian thought the person had left. Then, without warning, there was a terrible crash and the door swung open.
    *Holy shit!*
    In a panicked move, Brian leapt to his feet. But he instantly stumbled, landing on the coffee table, a sharp pain in his arse where he'd sat on the ashtray.
    Brian threw his gaze towards the door, willing his blurry eyes to focus on the intruder. For a moment he hoped it was his mates having a laugh, but Stef and Steve had gone up north for the weekend. He could only make out the man's silhouette. The man had Stef's ultra-short hair, but not his height. Still, like most people, he was bigger than Brian was -and Brian didn't fancy his chances of successfully throwing the man out.
    As Brian scooted backwards across the coffee table, the man shut the door behind him and put the chain on. Apparently, Brian had forgotten to lock up properly. *Big surprise, there.*
    With the door now secured, the man turned back towards Brian. Brian had, by now, fallen off the other side of the coffee table and was still shuffling backwards on his bum, with no particular destination in mind. Not that there was really anyplace for him to go.
    The intruder started towards him. Brian bumped into a chair, and used it to pull himself, unsteadily, to his feet. But, by the time Brian had managed to get to his feet, the man had reached him.
    Without thinking, or at least without thinking clearly, Brian threw a punch at the man. He staggered backward, though only slightly. Brian had a feeling that his hand had sustained more damage than the man's face. Brian saw the man raising his arm to strike. Brian closed his eyes, expecting the impact of a closed fist that would send his teeth flying.
    To Brian's surprise, it turned out to be an open handed slap. It hurt like hell all the same. It also caused him to lose his balance and land once again on the floor. Now that Brian was down, he expected a kick or some other attack to insure he was out. But again, he was mistaken as to which direction things were going.
    Brian felt the man grab him by the belt, and start dragging him across the floor. Brian tried to get his feet under him again, but had little success. Suddenly, the man picked him up as though Brian was no heavier than a bag of groceries. The man tossed Brian forward, away from him. Brian waited for the hard impact of the floor, but instead landed on something quite soft. It was only then that Brian realized where he had been dragged. Brian had just started to pull himself up again, when a hand landed on his shoulders and pushed him back down into the soft bed clothes.
    The man grabbed Brian's arms and pulled them out in front of him, towards the head of the bed. Then Brian felt the man tying his hands to the bed railings. That was the moment the full, terrible, reality of the situation thundered its way into Brian's brain. By some strange coincidence, it was at that very moment that it also started to rain quite heavily outside.
    Brian began to fight for real; kicking, screaming, trying to bite the bastard, but to no avail. His hands where securely tied to the bed with one of his own scarves. The intruder positioned himself behind Brian on the bed, reaching around to undo Brian's belt. Brian thrashed wildly, and just as the man had his belt undone, Brian felt his foot connect with the man's crotch. The intruder let out a loud groan of pain, and Brian felt him slip off the end of the bed.
    Now was Brian's chance to press the advantage, but he didn't have the advantage! Brian pulled and twisted with all his might, but he could not free his hands! Brian felt movement behind him, at the foot of the bed. He heard the man mutter something, but the only word Brian caught was 'bitch'.
    WHAM! Pain exploded in Brian's own groin. His breath was suddenly gone. Tears streamed from his eyes with renewed vigor. Brian fought desperately not to vomit. He felt the man continue his earlier work, unfastening Brian's jeans, pulling them off. Soon his jeans were followed by one of his favorite pair of black lace panties. All Brian could do was silently cry.
    Brian was slightly surprised a few moments later, when he felt lube being applied to his entrance. Somehow Brian wouldn't have thought a rapist would bother. The man inserted a lube-slicked finger, soon followed by another. Brian felt humiliated, and powerless. But he forced himself to relax. Brian couldn't stop what was happening to him, and if he continued to fight, it would only hurt more.
    His fingers now done with their prep-work, the man entered Brian slowly. And with a condom on, no less. Again, Brian wouldn't have thought he would bother. Perhaps he didn't want to leave behind plenty of DNA evidence for the cops. Not that it would be an issue. This, like so many other things, would become Brian's private burden. He would share it with no one, not even his band mates, let alone the fucking cops.
    His band mates. Brian thought longingly of all the times he had tried, without success, to get into Steve's pants. Not to mention all the times he had successfully gotten into Stef's.
    Thoughts of the people he would rather be with, coupled with the man's slow, steady rhythm conspired to arouse Brian. Part of him didn't want to, indeed couldn't, find any pleasure in this. But another part of his mind argued that it was better that he find some enjoyment in it than none.
    The man's rough hands began to slowly caress Brian's flesh. The man leaned down, on top of him, and licked at his ear. He trailed his tongue along the line of Brian's jaw, and nipped at the skin just below his ear. He then began placing kisses along Brian's neck. The man's ministrations were slow, even tender. With none of the violence one usually associates with rape.
    The guy was pretty good at this. Brian began to moan and whimper, in spite of himself. He was a vocalist, after all. As if urged on by Brian's sounds of pleasure, the man's speed increased. He continued to let his hands roam over Brian's skin, exploring his small body.
    Soon, the man seemed to tire of the position they were in. With his cock still inside Brian, the man leaned over him and untied his hands from the bed railing. The scarf still held his hands together, however, so Brian was still not free. The man pulled out just long enough to flip Brian over, so he was facing his attacker. He entered Brian again, thrusting into him with a hard, steady rhythm. Holding Brian to him, the man scooted off the bed, getting to his feet. He carried Brian over to the wall, and then let Brian's back rest against it as he continued to fuck him.
    *What is it they call this position he's got me in? The 'standing anal cowgirl' or some shit like that?*
    Brian locked his ankles together, behind the man's back. The intruder's thrusts into him were becoming harder, though his pace remained steady. He began to grip Brian's shoulders, pulling the singer down onto his erection at the same time he thrust upward with his hips. The man seemed to be trying to bury himself ever deeper into Brian. It was starting to hurt, and not in a good way. After a few minutes of this, the man brought their bodies together in the tightest embrace yet. He pressed into Brian so hard that, caught between the other man and the wall as he was, Brian found it almost impossible to breathe. The man had himself pressed so tightly against his groin, that Brian's balls started to ache again. Their chests were battling for room to expand to take in vital oxygen, and Brian was losing.
    Finally, just as Brian thought he could see stars before his eyes, the man relented. Brian tried to catch his breath as the man carried him back to the bed. He laid Brian down on his back, while he remained standing and continued to thrust into the smaller man. They remained like that for a few minutes, while Brian's breathing returned to normal, more or less.
    Suddenly, the man pulled out again. He flipped Brian over onto his stomach, and then went back to work. Brian slid his feet up the back of the man's legs, over his arse, and to the small of the man's back. Brian continued the caress, up and down, as the man slowly began to increase the speed of his thrusts.
    The man pushed Brian forward, further onto the bed, as he climbed onto it himself. Brian crawled forward on his hands and knees, finding himself with his head near the foot of the bed. Perhaps all the action of the night had shifted things, as the corner of the bed Brian was nearest seemed to be sagging slightly. The man's hard thrusts pushed Brian closer to the corner, and his hands were losing their purchase on the bed clothes.
    Brian started to slide off, and was in a bad position to catch himself, what with his hands still being tied together. Brian flailed his limbs in all directions, as he tried to get traction, but the bed clothes were simply sliding off with him. The man made a grab for one of Brian's legs, and Brian accidentally kicked him with the other one.
    Brian knew. Some part of him knew that this kick had landed just where the last one had, and that the man probably thought Brian was making a run for it. That same part of his mind warned Brian to prepare for the same retaliation he had suffered last time. And, sure enough, it happened just as before. The punch the man aimed at Brian's crotch was instantly followed by his rough re-entry.
    Then the wave of nausea hit Brian. There was no fighting it this time. Brian groped desperately in the dark for a second. *Thank God!* He had found what he was looking for -the waste bin. Stuffing his head in the small can, Brian hurled. *Oh God...* A vodka filled evening, followed by a night of being hit the groin made for a very bad combination!
    "Oh yeah!" The man groaned, still pounding into Brian from behind. He seemed to be greatly enjoying the convulsions rippling through Brian's small body as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the bin. With one final bit of spitting, Brian was done, and started to breathe easier.
    "Do it again." The man grunted from behind him.
    "What?!" Brian asked, his breath still slightly ragged, the blood rushing in his ears so that he could barely hear the man.
    "Come on, I was almost there!" The man said, still fucking him at a rapid pace.
    "Fuck you!" Brian spat. He had had enough of this. Brian started to pull away from the man, not caring if it pissed him off or not.
    The man sprang into action before Brian could get away. One of his hands grabbed Brian's shoulder, shoving him back onto his cock. The other, reaching between Brian's legs, established a horribly tight grip on his jewels. Brian's eyes went wide. He clutched at the waste bin for dear life and heaved. His stomach was completely empty, but his body did its best to expel whatever might be left. The man picked up his pace, frantically pounding into Brian's arse. Brian wretched so hard it felt like his face would explode.
    The man finally released his grip, just as he came. Brian collapsed onto the bed. Judging by the sticky feeling under his belly, Brian had also achieved release at some point, though he hadn't noticed and hadn't gleamed any pleasure from it. The man slowly pulled out of him. A few moments later, he heard the rustle of the man getting dressed. Brian didn't feel much like moving, not now, not ever.
    "You were awesome." The man grunted, patting Brian on the bum.
    Out the corner of his eye, Brian saw the silhouette of the man heading out of the bedroom and towards the door. Brian simply lay there, bruised and broken.
    When next Brian awoke, bright, unwelcome, sunlight was pouring in through the windows. The pain that he felt all over his body told him that last night had not, in fact, been some fucked up vodka-induced nightmare. *Damn.*
    Brian peeled himself off the bed. This was one time that he really would have preferred to wake up in a puddle of drool, instead of cum.
    Brian padded into the bathroom, and immediately took twice the recommended dosage of two different kinds of pain relievers. Tears spilled involuntarily down his face when he looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't feel up to dealing with his appearance. He decided to just stay in for the rest of the day. Not that he would have done any different, had last night not happened.
    After two cups of coffee, to wake him up, and to help the pills along, Brian had a quick shower and got dressed. He then proceeded to do flip all for the balance of the day.
    Or that was the plan.
    But the best laid plans of the mouse of a man he was were interrupted by knocking at the door. Brian hesitated. What if it was him? No. That was a stupid thing to think. Rapists don't come round the day after for tea. Still, Brian wasn't in any shape to be entertaining guests. Even if he had wanted to, which he didn't.
    "Brian!"
    Brian jumped slightly at the sound of his own name being shouted from the other side of the door.
    "Brian! Open up!"
    Brian forced his legs to begin moving, with some difficulty. He unlocked, and then opened the door, to reveal the tall form of Stef, holding arm loads of shopping.
    "Glad to see you're actually up, Bri." Stef said, bustling past, without looking at Brian. Stef proceeded to set the large bags down on the floor.
    Brian poked his head out into the corridor, but he saw no sign of anyone else.
    "Steve's getting some things from the car." Stef said from behind him, noticing that Brian was checking for signs of more company.
    Brian turned round to face the taller man, and Stef's smile vanished.
    "Fuck, Bri! You look like shit!"
    On another occasion, Brian might have fired back a scathing remark, but under the circumstances, he kept quiet. He could hardly argue with Stef's assessment. Brian had not yet bothered to apply makeup, and it was going to take a lot of it, more than he had worn in recent years, to cover up today's imperfections. His entire face was a mottling of red and pink. The area around his eyes was red and puffy from all his water works of the past night and this morning. His eyes themselves were more bloodshot than they would be if he had been chain smoking joints for a week. Indeed, his left eye had a spot of solid red in it, where one of the vessels had burst. Brian hadn't even bothered to scrape off the last, stubborn, bits of dried blood from his nose, the result of his nose bleed which followed the dry heaving.
    "What the fuck happened to you?" Stef said, wrapping his arms protectively around Brian.
    "Long story." Brian said, his voice hoarse.
    "Have you eaten today?" Stef asked.
    Brian shook his head.
    "You want me to fix you something?"
    Brian nodded in agreement. He hadn't thought about it, but now that he did, he realized that he was rather hungry.
    "'Something simple." Brian said, not feeling up to eating much, despite his hunger.
    "A sandwich?" Stef inquired.
    Brian nodded.
    Stef broke their embrace, and headed off for the kitchen.
    Just then, the rustling sounds of Steve's arrival came from behind Brian. He turned to greet his other friend, and Brian's mouth dropped so far open he was surprised it was still in its socket.
    "Damn, Molks! You look like crap!" Steve exclaimed, as his eyes landed on Brian's face.
    "Your-Your..." Brian stuttered, making a feeble effort to point at the other man. "...What the fuck happened to your hair?!"
    Somewhere behind him, Brian heard Stef chuckling loudly.
    "I got tired of you saying I was more vain than you when it came to my hair." Steve said, running his hand over his hair, which was now shorter than Brian's.
    "You know, at least one of us ought to have long hair, for... balance." Brian said, still gaping at Steve.
    "Exactly!" Steve said, beaming. "And I figured if I shaved off my hair, I might could talk you into growing yours out again."
    Steve's smile broadened. He stepped closer to Brian, and reached a hand down to pat the smaller man on the bum.
    "Anyway," He said. "You didn't complain about my hair last night."

THE END.