Chapter Text
Roger couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. Every part of him felt like it was on fire. He was burning but his blood felt like ice. He was numb. But he could still feel hands, cruel terrible hands on his skin, teeth at his throat, sharp stabbing pain like he had never thought he could experience as he was being ripped open from the inside out, arousal filled voice in his ear panting out words he couldn’t understand, foul breath stinging his nose even as tears fell from between clenched eyelids, the feeling of blood and then something else trickling down the back of his thighs. He was choking on his sobs, paralyzed where he was bent over the sink in the single stall bathroom, his trousers around his ankles, face held against the now heated countertop that reeked of stale alcohol and piss with an antiseptic undertone.
The man behind him grunted once before letting him go to sag boneless against the counter, the only thing keeping him upright, the feeling of blood and come trickling out of him making his stomach roll. Those cruel fingers reached around and grabbed his flaccid cock, tugging at it even as he tried to fight back. The man laughed, pressing against his back, holding him in place, whispering terrible things in his ear even as his cock began to swell, interested even if he himself wasn’t. But he understood biology was biology, he studied it for fuckssake, he knew this didn’t mean a damn thing except his body was responding to physically pleasurable touch, even if the touch made his skin crawl mentally and emotionally. He squeezed his eyes tighter shut, clenching his teeth together to stop himself from making any noise. He wouldn’t give the asshole that pleasure.
The hand on his cock was still stroking him, the tip now flushed and weeping precome as he felt his pulse increase and his balls begin to tighten, a familiar fluttering starting low in his belly, his hips jerking forward as he came, mind screaming against the abuse, screaming it didn’t want to come it didn’t want this it never wanted this it was being violated! Behind him, the man laughed wiping his now come covered hand down the back of his shirt. He winced to himself as the man finally, finally let him go to crumple into himself leaning heavily against the sink.
The door opened and slammed closed and he whimpered letting himself collapse to the dirty wet bathroom floor. He could still feel the man’s hands on him. He painfully pushed himself up on straining and shaky legs, finally opening his eyes to look at himself in the dirty cracked bathroom mirror. Blond hair was a mess, tangled and sticking up at odd angles, his face was red from crying and pain, eyes swollen and bloodshot making the blue even more startling against the veiny white magnified by the tears that pooled there. Fat tears of rage and shame and pain spilled over as he tried to pull his trousers back up his still shaking legs. Everything was starting to hurt. He ignored the feeling of blood and come sticking to his skin and now his tight jeans, patting his pockets for his phone. He breathed a sigh of relief, it was still there. He pushed himself away from the sink and staggered from a moment as pain shot through him and more tears fell. He grit his teeth and shoved his way out of the bathroom and through the crowds, heart pounding at every accidental touch, ears ringing with the noise of people and music, until he escaped out a side door into a cold alleyway, body shivering at the sudden change in temperature.
The pre-spring dampness settles into his body as he leaned heavily against the damp alley wall, digging his phone out with trembling fingers. The screen was almost unbearably bright as 01:13 flared up at him from above the smiling faces of him and his bandmates. A quick scan on the fingerprint ID and he was hesitating with his thumb above the call button. Swallowing hard, soreness and pain arching through his body, he closed his eyes and called praying the other would still be awake.
“‘Ello? Rog, you okay?” The voice of a very awake sounding John Deacon made him sag against the wall.
“Deacy,” he croaked out, voice wrecked from crying and now that he thought about it screaming.
John must have heard that something was wrong even in that one word because his tone was firm yet gentle and soothing, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”
He rattled off the address adding that he was in the alley, which he was sure gave John pause before the other man told him he’d be there in 15 “just stay right there, Rog, just hold on, I’m coming, okay,” and he could only nod into the phone sliding down the wall sinking to the ground everything on fire even against the cool damp concrete. He could feel fresh blood beginning to flow.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, body curled into a small of a ball as possible, huddling on the damp ground before John got there, the other man out of breath and panic boiling under his calm surface. “Rog,” he called, as he entered the alleyway, before he found the crumpled form of his friend. “Roger!” He gasped out running towards the man now.
John knelt beside him, reaching out a hand and he tried not to flinch when the warm familiar hand lighted on his shoulder. He must have failed because John drew back almost immediately. “Roger?” He asked voice worried.
The blond looked up, unable to hide his tear stricken face or bloodshot eyes any longer. “I,” he croaked out clearing his throat painfully, “I think I need to go to the hospital,” he murmured, voice catching, heart pounding in his chest, head throbbing in time to his pulse, body aching, blood on his thighs and staining the seat of his jeans.
Green eyes widened before John nodded, “Okay, yeah okay, what happened?”
He shook his head, “Just, help me, please,” he whispered.
“Yeah, of course, okay,” John reached for him again before hesitating, “Can I…?”
He nodded, uncurling himself face tightening in pain as he moved. He was sure John suspected something, that John would know from the very pronounced limp and wince with every step, but bless the younger man he said nothing, just helped the blond to his car.
John drove in silence the entire way to the closest hospital, the air tense with everything unspoken, broken occasionally by hisses of pain when they hit a bump in the road or when he had to shift in his seat. The blond man was silent as John parked the car and helped him into the A&E, as he brokenly described in vague detail to the intake nurse what happened, as he clung to John’s hand as he was sat in a wheelchair and brought back from the waiting room, as he painfully replaced his stained shirt with a hospital gown, ignoring John’s stifled gasp at the bruises he knew were blooming along his skin, as an IV for pain medicine was placed in his arm, the older lady nurse whispering soothingly to him as he winced in pain her kind eyes sad as she promised him it would all be okay.
“Deacy,” he whispered, squeezing the other man’s hand. Green eyes snapped to him, worry clear in every line of his body. “Thank you,” Roger breathed out with a wain smile before closing his aching eyes, letting himself drift in the haze of whatever pain medicine they had given him.
***
John was still holding his hand when he woke to the sound of the privacy curtain being moved. He knew he couldn’t have been sleeping long, just long enough to feel groggy as a young woman with kind gray eyes dressed in muted blue scrubs poked her head around the side of the curtain.
“May I come in?” She asked her voice light and lilting with a gentle Scottish accent.
Roger nodded at her, as if he really needed to answer seeing as she was already basically inside the cordoned off area and there wasn’t much privacy to begin with.
“Hello, Mr. Taylor, my name is Jenna Michaels, you can call me Jenna. I am a certified Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner. The intake nurse called me to come speak to you based on what you told her when you came in,” she was smiling at him like everything was just absolutely dandy and he wasn’t here because of well everything that had happened. “I need to ask you some questions about what happened, is that okay?”
He stared at her, mute, unable to make his tongue work. Everything in him was screaming at him to run, run away from this lady, that she was scary with her too kind eyes and her too wide smile. He was tensed to leave when a gentle squeeze of his hand reminded him of John’s presence. He looked over at the other man and green eyes stared back at him full of love and comfort and for a moment Roger forgot where he was.
“Mr. Taylor?” The nurse’s voice cut through his thought and Roger tightened his grip on John’s hand whose face went tight, lips pursed.
John spoke before Roger could even make a sound, his tone right and with no room for negotiation, “You have the notes from intake, don’t you think he has experienced enough trauma for one night without you making him relive it for you?”
Jenna’s eyes were kind but firm, “The intake only tells me basics,” she said to John, her tone taking a hard edge, before she turned to look at Roger, “I promise, Mr. Taylor, I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t need to know for the sake of being able to properly help you.”
Roger squeezed John’s hand again, blue eyes wide as he stared at the woman in front of him. “Okay,” he croaked.
Her smile was blinding and full of comfort. “Okay, Mr. Taylor, was there penetration?”
He felt his face heat up, heart pounding in his chest, and he felt John squeeze his hand. “Do you want me to step out, Rog?” John murmured to him, green eyes kind and full of love as Roger looked over at him. He shook his head, taking a steadying breath before looking back at Jenna.
“Yes,” he said, face on fire, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow him whole.
She nodded and made a note on her tablet. “Do you know if there was protection used?” She asked, looking at him once again with those kind grey eyes.
Roger shook his head, letting his matted greasy hair fall into his face. “No, no, pro, protection used,” he mumbled, feeling the words stick in the back of his throat.
Jenna nodded, her smile encouraging and sweet, “I know this is hard, and I thank you for being so brave. We just have a few more questions before I examine you okay?”
The blond nodded, staring a hole in the uncomfortable hospital bed. The questions he could handle, he could handle words, but he wasn’t sure if he could take someone’s hands on him right now or even ever again.
“Mr. Taylor, have you had sex in the past week?”
He snapped his eyes up to look at the woman, face going even brighter red, “Uh, yes.”
She nodded at him again, “Have you had anal sex in the past week?”
Beside him John made a noise he tried to cover with a cough, turning his face away to give Roger a little more privacy. The nurse seemed to read that as a sign to explain, “I need to know so when I examine you I know what I am looking for.”
Roger swallowed hard, feeling the cold from the sterile hospital seep into his body, shivering slightly as he answered, “Yes, this morning, before my boyfriend left for work.”
Jenna nodded again tapping at her tablet briefly before she set it aside. “Excellent, Mr. Taylor, I will begin the exam now, if that is alright? Your boyfriend can either stay with you or he can step out into the hallway.”
Both John and Roger shook their heads. “I’m not his boyfriend,” John said, not letting go of Roger’s hand, “Just a friend.”
The nurse blinked at them for a moment before nodding again. Roger noticed she did that a lot, the nodding. “Very well, it’s up to you, Mr. Taylor. Your friend can stay or leave whatever you feel most comfortable with.”
John cleared his throat, looking down at Roger, “I’ll step out and call Bri? He’s probably worried out of his mind.”
Roger nodded, finally letting go of John’s hand, feeling a twinge of guilt when he saw how John winced as he flexed his fingers. He watched the slightly younger man leave, feeling his heart rate spike again, palms sweaty and head pounding.
Jenna was giving him a gentle smile again as she directed him to scoot to the edge of the table and configured him the way she wanted him to lay. He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything else’s to ignore her soothing voice as she talked him through the exam, ignore the cold press of a lube coated latex covered finger against his aching and probably still bleeding hole. He closed his eyes and ignored the tears that were once more falling.