Chapter Text
Tubbo laughs as the car finally stops, they’ve arrived. Tubbo got invited to some kinda party with some of his old college mates, and he decided Tommy needed to go too. Tommy was honestly a bit tired of interaction but he could never really say no to Tubbo.
"C'mon man, they're not gonna just disappear if you stay in the car!" Tubbo says, now holding open the door to Tommy's side. Right, this was an Uber.
Tommy gives a quick 'thanks' to the driver then hops out of the car. The house was pretty average, definitely nothing to note. The two walk up to the door, it takes a second before someone opens the door. It's a boy with wheat blonde hair, it's a bit shaggy and goes to his chin, his blue eyes are piercing though. Also his grey t-shirt and pants do not fit him well.
"Toby, you finally made it!" The boy says, pulling Tubbo in for a hug which he returns. Once they let go of each other the blonde finally looks at Tommy. "And who's this?"
Tubbo gestures towards Tommy. "This is Tom! Tom, this is Bronson." Bronson holds out his hand and Tommy shakes it. "Nice to meet you Tom, here, I can show him around Toby."
Tubbo nods and gives Tommy a pat on the shoulder before going off into the house. Fuckin' prick, leaving him alone with people he doesn't know. Whatever, he should be fine.
—
'Fine' was not the right word to use. He felt fantastic. At one point or another (an hour, maybe two? time had started to blend together at one point) someone had brought drinks, most of them consisting of alcohol.
Now Tommy never really considered himself a fan of alcohol, he tried it one time cause his dad let him, it tasted disgusting. But right now as he's on his fifth cup of 'fruit punch' from some guy named George (fucker would hate the real George), he feels like he's having the time of his life. Sure most of the room was blurring together, and he kept bumping into walls, and people, and everything. But he was doing great!
Tommy takes a sip of his cup from his spot on the couch, watching some sports game on the TV. He couldn't tell you what it was about, but he thinks the green team is winning. Or is that blue?
He can't focus too hard for long before a hand comes down on his shoulder. He looks to see who it is to see Bronson.
"Hey Tom, you good? You've been staring at the TV like it's the coming of Christ." He says with a small laugh. "Yeah, yeah, 's jus' a really good um, good game."
"Tom, there's no game on right now, this is cartoons." Looking back at the TV, Tommy can faintly see that it is in fact cartoons. But it is a sports episode, so he wasn't wrong.
He hears Bronson sigh and looks at him again, those stupid pretty blue eyes staring at him. "Hey, maybe you should rest for the night man. I think," He takes Tommy's cup out of his hands. "you've had enough for tonight."
Tommy huffs like a fussy child and groans. "That's fuckin' dumb. I don't ev'n." Tommy stands up, the room swaying with him. "I don' know where the b'droom 's"
"I can show you, don't worry." Bronson says, grabbing Tommy's hand and throwing his arm over his shoulder to take the stumbling boy to the guest bedroom.
"You gotta camp in here, I think someone else is banging in my room so, yeah." Bronson says, letting Tommy flop down onto the bed.
"'S whatev'r man." Tommy groans and stuffs his face more into a pillow. "'M gonna sleep f'rev'r." The last thing he hears is Bronson's laugh as he falls asleep, as well as a door opening.
•••
"Fuckin' hell, he's got a pretty chest." A voice says, it sounds muffled though. He feels freezing fingertips run down his chest, stopping to pinch at his nipples. "Look at 'em, the size of dinner plates."
What was happening? Why were there so many hands? Why was it so fucking cold?
Tommy groans and opens his eyes, and the scene he sees definitely wakes him up.
Bronson is sitting between his legs, his bare legs. His own cock sits heavy in his hand as one hand plays with his chest. Now seeing this, Tommy immediately tries to push him away, but his arms are being held down. Arching his head back, he sees another boy, his head must be in his lap. And worse, he can't even see his face because of the cock sitting on his face.
Though his mind is still bleary, he can tell that this is bad. He doesn't have any memory of saying they could do something like this. It's not like he would anyway, he's still a virgin, why would he want his first time to be a gangbang??
"Wha's?.." His body can barely process what's happening, it still feels like everything's in slow motion from the drinks. He wants this to stop, where the hell is Tubbo?
"Ah, sleeping beauty's finally awake. We should probably speed this up, yeah?" The boy holding him down says, speed it up, what?
Bronson nods and shifts, his body's being moved too much, what's going on? He feels sick, he's gonna be sick-
Before he can even think for a moment on why his wrists are being held down tighter, he feels something nudge against his hole. Wait. WAIT NO-
Tommy doesn't think he's ever screamed louder in his life, his body felt like it was being light ablaze. There was nothing but dry and hot pain shocking his body to the core. It hurt, what was happening, make it stop, where the hell was Tubbo??
"S-Sah! Stop! Brons'n, stop it! Get thefuck offa me!" Though Tommy's weak, his body is working a million miles an hour, the pain forcing him to writhe. His stomach shrivels up at the sound of Bronson's pleased groans.
"Fuck, he's fitting me like a fuckin' glove, man." Bronson says, Tommy can see the small smile looking down at him through his teary eyes. Why was he smiling? He was smiling like they had been lovers for forever, like this was a common thing they agreed on. That they were enjoying this. He wasn't. He wanted it to stop. Please, whatever was listening, please make it stop.
Of course, it only got worse. Cause he started to move.
It felt like sandpaper. A mass in a too tight space covered in sandpaper, being thrust in and out of him at a rough and too fast to start pace. His mind was breaking, he couldn't focus on anything but the pain, the molten vile pain running though his body and the sickening miniscule amount of pleasure that he could feel from this.
He hated it. No matter his broken and slurred pleas for Bronson to stop, he just, wouldn't. He actually only kept moaning and groaning while Tommy was torn up from the inside. It was awful. And somehow managed to get even worse.
While he sobbed and squirmed the other boy grabbed his attention by forcing his head back. He readjusts himself to sit on Tommy's chest and hold his cock in his hand. "Open, and if you use your teeth, I'll knock you out and use your mouth anyways. Got it?" He grips Tommy's jaw in a bruising grip, just to drive the point home.
"I- p-please j-jus' stop. I-I do-" Tommy really wished he stopped talking. He gets slapped before his mouth is forced open by two fingers and a cock replaces it. He chokes, of course he does. Even if he was ready, he was still inexperienced. Anyone suddenly having a cock shoved down their throat out of nowhere would also be a little alarmed.
As a first instinct, and a direct slam into a spot in him that makes his whole body go rigid, he bites down. "Ow, you fuckin-!" The other boy pulls out of his mouth and punches Tommy right in the nose, making his head snap back. Did he break his nose? It felt so bad, it brought him out of his haze a little bit for him to start crying more, his tears falling at the same pace of the blood leaking from his nose.
"Randy, take it easy on him. He can't think." Randy scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Whatever, now don't fucking bite, bitch." He says, Tommy cries in response. Randy gives Tommy a small bit of leeway to take his cock back in his mouth, but it only helps so much.
His head is fuzzy enough to just space out, not focus on anything. Which he supposed he's thankful for, if he couldn't do that, he would probably cry himself unconscious.
The push and drag of the two boys is forced and rushed, Tommy doesn't think he could get any pleasure from it even if he wanted it. He hates this, he hates it.
They luckily are quick shots, the bad thing is he gets snapped out of his daze at the lack of air he's receiving from being forced to take the boy's cock. He whines and struggles against the hands holding him down, trying to twist his head away.
He eventually is able to get it out and coughs the rest of the cum he had in his mouth out. Since he's tuned back into his body now, he can feel how sick he is. Too sick, fuck-
He turns his head to the side as he empties his stomach, every single drink and food coming out of him in a rush of vomit. His throat burns for multiple reasons now.
His ears are ringing, so he can't even hear what Bronson says, but they both leave.
They left. They're gone.. that's good. Tommy pushes himself up on unsteady arms and looks around the room. His eyes burn to even try to use, but he sees his pants discarded on the floor. He felt a little scared to even try and move, his body felt like it was on fire.
He doesn't know how long he's been sitting there, just looking at his pants, but he eventually forces himself to swing his legs over the side of the bed. His body is screaming at him as he reaches down and grabs his pants, it's even worse when he pulls them over his overly sensitive legs. Fuck finding his boxers.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. There's some messages from Tubbo.
Tubbo
hey man
m rly dunk
i got a cab home
beonson saif hel get yoy one
ill call tmrw
Well, that answers the question of where Tubbo was. Tommy thinks for a second, should he get a cab? Tommy then starts to shake at the thought. He thinks he's done with strangers for the day.
He hugs and whines with effort to stand, pain shooting through his legs. He shuffles his way to the door and presses his ear against it, making sure there's no one by the door. There isn't.
Tommy opens the door and looks around for a moment before shuffling as quickly as he can to the front door, moving faster once he hears his name being called by someone. He slams the door shut behind him and walks to the curb.
The night air is cold, it's freezing his steaming filthy throat, but making him tremble even more. Fuck. He looks up at the street lamp he's standing under, the moths and flies bouncing off of the lightbulb. Poor things.
Tommy sighs and pulls out his phone.
"Wilbur?"