“Do you know how many times I’ve fucked you, Gabriel? Seventy-six. Well, I suppose seventy-seven, now,” Mudd commented thoughtfully, sawing his spit-lubed cock in and out of Lorca’s raw, swollen hole. “I thought about stopping at sixty-nine, such a poetic number, but, well, this was really too good to give up,” he said, smacking a playful hand against the ass he was fucking.
“Go to hell,” Lorca gritted out. He’d been raped – and worse – by scarier people than Harcourt fucking Mudd. Granted, being plowed in the ass while bent over his own captain’s chair, on his own bridge, in front of his own crew - those who were still alive, anyway - was fairly humiliating, but still. He could deal with it. And the pain was negligible, compared to the agonizer or any of the other creative torments devised in his own universe. You couldn’t fight pain, so he just let it wash through him, not resisting it, but not dwelling on it either. It was the only way.
“Took me a while to figure out your weak spot, though,” Harry mused, not responding to Lorca’s words, and still pumping away behind him. “At least a dozen loops before I threatened… her, that crewmember over there,” he said, pointing at Michael. “Whatever her name is.”
Gabriel stopped himself from looking at Michael, barely. It was bad enough to know that she was watching this. He couldn’t stand to see the pity in her eyes, and worse, the guilt, given that he’d practically spit in Harry’s face as he’d shot crewmember after crewmember, Lorca quoting the standard line about not negotiating with terrorists… until Harry had threatened Michael. Then he’d shut his mouth, pulled down his pants, and bent over like a pathetic weakling. He hated himself for it. Michael should hate him too, and his Michael would have rightfully despised him for this show of submission - but this Michael wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. He grunted at a particularly vicious thrust, as Harry's cock, nearly dry by now, caused a tearing sensation inside of him that Gabriel knew meant he'd be bleeding. At least the blood would ease the way a bit, act as lube.
Harry was still talking, though. "Knowing she was your weak point didn't stop me from killing your other crewmembers first every loop after that, just for giggles. Had to keep some alive, though, to witness your comeuppance. Or, bendoverance, as it were." Harry chuckled at his own joke. Gabriel didn't know for sure, but he gathered that Harry had found some way to keep repeating a certain stretch of time. He didn't know what he could do to stop it, either. All he could really do was wait for a moment Mudd was distracted enough to try to turn the tables and kill the asshole. Hopefully his death would stop whatever time fuckery was going on. God, he hated time fuckery.
Harry paused in his incessant pounding, apparently to look at something on his wrist, before picking up again, harder and faster now. “Hmm, this loop is about to run out. Wonder how many more times I’ll do this before I get tired of it? Of course, it helps that you’re so. Fucking. Tight. Every. Single. Time,” he said, synchronizing each bitten-off word with a deep, brutal thrust. Then Mudd’s hips stuttered and he came, groaning as he emptied himself into Lorca’s abused, torn ass. He pulled out and Gabriel could feel that his hole was now gaping open, muscles fluttering uselessly as he attempted to clench them around the trickle of fluid - Harry's come and his own blood - seeping out of him. He took a deep breath and got ready to swing around and tackle the bastard.
Lorca snarled as he turned around. “Well, I’ll see you next time around,” Harry said cheerfully, ignoring Lorca’s growl and imminent attack. Harry’s smug face was the last thing Lorca saw before the universe exploded.