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Jeremy just sobbed harder as the man's hand carded through his hair softly. His tears and snot soaking into the blankets under him. Sobs forced their way up his throat with every thrust into him.
"C'mon, darlin'," Dell whispered against the man's ear. His hands and movement were all gentle, as if nothing was wrong with what was happening between them. Like there was nothing sick and severely twisted about all of this. It made the tears rush quicker down Jeremy's face. "Need to stop all caterwaulin'. Gettin' yourself all worked up like this." He rubbed his hand soothingly at Jeremy's overextended belly. The skin stretched taut, carrying his and Dell's baby.
Jeremy didn't listen. He gave up trying a while ago. Despite the gentleness, everything hurt. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be pregnant with this man's baby. A disgusting little thing, a product of Dell forcing himself on Jeremy. He had trusted Dell back then, yet here he is. It makes him feel so sick every time he thinks about how he ended up here.
His face was flushed red, stained with snot and tear tracks as he turned to look up at Dell from where the man had him down. Forced to lie on his side due to his bump.
Dell shook his head. "Aw, don't be givin' me that look now." He patted Jeremy's blotchy red face, wiping away the tears that were gathering on his cheek. "Breaks my heart somethin' awful when ya look at me like that. You're lookin' at me like I'm some sorta monster." His hand gripped lower on Jeremy's face. He turned his face back to look at the wall. "Let's turn that purty face back around. Hurts me too bad to look at."
Jeremy sniffled against the sheets, trying to squirm his hips away, each thrust knocking the breath out of him. "It hurts," he whispered.
"Of course it hurts, sugar. That's life," he cooed gently. "Just what it's like for ya women."
Jeremy bit his lip hard, tiny beads of blood sprouting around his tooth. A woman. The word felt so bitter in his mind. He hated when Dell called him that. He hated it so much. He was doing it to get under Jeremy's skin, to manipulate, to make him more depressed and compliant. "I'm not—" he let out a strained groan at a particularly hard thrust, the air pushed out of his lungs. "I'm not a woman," he whimpered against the pillow.
Engie was quiet, seemingly focused on keeping Scout's legs open against his. He grunted before shaking his head.
"Whatever ya wanna tell yourself, dear."