(trigger warning: non consensual sex)
Symere groaned as he walked inside of his house, the smell of smoke and alcohol immediately filling his nose.
Loud music deafened him, so loud he could barely hear himself calling Jordan's name. He turned it down and searched the house until he finds Jordan slumped over in what used to be Symere's office.
"Jordan," he sighed, bending down to help him up. There was an empty bottle of lean and a messy lines of cocaine on the desk, seemingly all he'd done that night.
"Jordan," Symere repeated, a bit more urgent; praying it wasn't the night his boyfriend overdosed. "Jordan. Jordy, wake up."
Jordan responded to that, sluggishly sitting up and staring at his husband. His eyes were cartoonishly red, and he stared at Symere with a glazed, unfocused look.
"C'mon, Jordan, it's time for bed," Symere told him. Jordan stood up and almost fell back over, steadying himself with Symere's help.
The smaller man lead his husband to their bedroom and undressed him, Jordan too intoxicated to resist-or stay still.
"S-Simon," he slurred, before falling into bed and passing out. Symere bit his lip, attempting to fight back tears, as he grabbed his keys and wallet and left.
The entire drive all he did was cry. It was Friday, and Jordan used to refrain from drugs because Symere had weekends off. Then he would do them lightly. Now all he did on the weekends was pass out and know Symere would be there all day to cook, attempt to clean the house, and care for him.
Symere parked and walked to the door, sniffling heavily as he knocked.
Tyler opened the door with a sympathetic frown, opening his arms, and Symere collapsed into them, sobbing loudly.
"H-he c-called me S-Simon!" he blubbered, Tyler signalling for a confused Rakim to get him some tissue.
"Sy, you gotta calm down, okay? Breathe," he instructed, sitting the small boy down.
Before he could calm down, bile crept up his throat and sent him rushing to the bathroom, dropping to his knees and vomiting in the toilet.
Tyler bent down and started rubbing his back. "Sy, I thought you said you'd stopped throwing up," he frowned. "This has been going on for over a month, you need a doctor."
"Or is he pregnant?" Rakim asked, entering the room with some tissue and fanning Symere's face. "Sy, have you and Jordan done anything lately?"
Symere avoided his eyes as he answered. "Two months ago...he sorta made me."
"I don't wanna do this anymore, Jordan," Symere mumbled after five minutes of enduring painful kisses and rough neck bites.
Jordan glanced up briefly and kept going, roughly fingering Symere with dry fingers as he spat on his hand and jerked himself off. Tonight he'd done percs and lean with a bit of weed mixed in, and he was completely out of it.
He repeated himself, and Jordan didn't even bother looking up as he ripped his fingers out and replaced them with his dick, not even giving Symere a moment to adjust.
He let out a scream as Jordan started thrusting, harshly snapping in and out of his area.
Jordan put his hand over his mouth, bending down to whisper in his ear. "Stop runnin' and take this dick, Symere."
Symere started going in and out of consciousness from shock, staying awake long enough to feel Jordan come inside him.
Jordan panted heavily before collapsing on him, snores escaping his lips as he fell asleep. Symere quickly moved from under him and got out of bed, staring at Jordan.
Everything that had just happened processed in his mind and he passed out once more.
"I'mma kill him, Rakim snapped, standing up and walking out. Tyler grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
"Not right now," he whispered, glancing at Symere, who was leaning against the coolness of the toilet bowl. He winced. "Look, now we just need to find out if he's pregnant or not. We don't wanna make Sy a single parent."
Rakim frowned, obviously still livid with what Jordan had done.
"Please, Rocky, not now," Tyler begged, something he rarely did outside of the bedroom. Rakim's face softened.
"Sy, have you eaten?" Tyler asked. Symere shook his head.
"I left work, went home, and put Jordan to bed," he mumbled, sitting up. "I'll just go get some McDonalds-"
"No, you won't," Rakim interrupted. "It's late and almost 1 am. We don't want you getting hurt."
"But I-"
"We have leftovers," Tyler assured him. "Just come get some food and then you can go to bed. We'll get you some pregnancy tests tomorrow, okay?"
Symere nodded, tearing up once again as he stood up on shaky legs. The small boy was so sensitive, a big part of why Tyler and Rakim were so overprotective with him.
"C'mon, Sy," Rakim told him, pulling him into a hug. Tyler joined in, and the three men stood there for a bit, silent.
