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Sejanus woke up that morning with the light on his face. The curtains of the presidential mansion's master bedroom were open, the sun shining directly on him. The first thing he felt was his head throbbing, a sharp pain that made him groan and close his eyes tightly, as if that would make the pain go away. Sejanus didn’t remember much from the previous night. He had gone to a party with Coryo, right? Right. He had left Julius with his parents. He had drunk more than he should have, for sure, to the point where he couldn’t remember anything. Sejanus had never had a habit of drinking. Why had he drunk that night? He had a vague memory of Coryo getting another glass of alcohol, and then another, and then another, until Sejanus lost count.
And then everything became a blur in his memory. Everything, except for Coriolanus’ voice:
"I’ll take care of you, love."
I’ll take care of you. Sejanus opened his eyes abruptly, wide with panic. His heart started racing. Sejanus tried to sit up quickly, but a loud cry escaped his mouth from the pain he felt all over his body.
Everything hurt.
His legs, his arms, his entire body.
Sejanus’ hands were trembling as he pulled the covers off his body. He was naked, except for the button-up shirt he was still wearing: the same shirt from the night before. Sejanus looked down. He felt like vomiting at the sight of his thighs. His fingers, shaking, ran over the bite marks, red and swollen. There was dried semen on his thighs too, and Sejanus nearly threw up. He brought a hand to his mouth.
"Oh, you’re awake, baby."
Sejanus’ eye twitched as he looked up to see Coriolanus standing at the entrance of their bathroom, drying himself with a towel, as if it were a normal morning. As if it were a normal day. As if he hadn’t...
"Are you feeling okay?" Coriolanus sat next to Sejanus on the bed, the mattress creaking. "You know, maybe you should take a shower. I had a horrible hangover from last night’s party. Didn’t you?"
Sejanus couldn’t speak. If he said anything, he would scream. And if he did something, it would be grabbing a gun and putting three bullets in Coriolanus’ forehead. He felt Coriolanus’ hand on his cheek, his thumb stroking his face, and Sejanus pulled away abruptly, his back hitting the headboard, trying to keep his distance from Coriolanus. Away from that man and away from his hands, the hands that had roamed over his body, the hands that had touched him, and the more Sejanus thought about it, the more he felt the phantom of those fingers all over him.
"Sejanus, are you okay?"
What kind of question was that? Sejanus couldn’t open his mouth. He couldn’t speak. He was trembling.
"What happened, Janey? Do you want me to call a doctor? You..."
"If you touch me again, I’ll kill you."
Coriolanus hadn’t expected the whisper that came from Sejanus’ mouth, a whisper Sejanus hadn’t even realized he had said. He felt like a trapped animal, cornered against the headboard of that bed. Coriolanus had disrespected him in an unimaginable way. Coriolanus had violated the one thing he could never have violated. Sejanus had devoted himself to him in every possible way, showered him with love, given Coriolanus everything he could ever want, and yet it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough for Coryo, would it?
He had to take this from Sejanus too. He had to ignore everything Sejanus had asked for, everything he had said. He had to do this because nothing Sejanus gave him was enough.
The position as heir to his father’s company wasn’t enough. The money that saved his family, that paid for his college, that bought his clothes, wasn’t enough. The baby Sejanus gave him, the blue-eyed, blond-haired son, the horrible and painful pregnancy, wasn’t enough. The sex in which he let Coriolanus devour him like an animal, in which he laid himself out like a feast, in which he gave in and gave in, letting Coriolanus take from him over and over again, wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. Coriolanus had taken from him the one thing he had left:
His ability to say no. To, at least this time, say no.
"Janey, what’s your problem?" he asked, irritated, and Sejanus wanted to rip out his teeth one by one, wanted to find a way to make him feel what Sejanus was feeling, the pain he was feeling. "What’s gotten into you?"
"What’s gotten into me?" Sejanus was incredulous. "What’s gotten into me?"
"Yes, Sejanus! What’s gotten into you?!"
"I told you," tears now streamed down his freckled cheeks, "that I wasn’t going to have sex with you. I told you, Coriolanus. I told you that until you gave me my pills back, I wasn’t going to have sex with you."
Coriolanus was silent for a minute, and Sejanus thought the mask had fallen. That if he paid attention, there was a twisted smile at the corner of his mouth, betraying the serious and irritated expression he was trying to put on. Coriolanus got up, rolling his eyes, acting as if Sejanus were being hysterical. Foolish. Stupid. Not unlike a child who spoke nonsense, who acted irrationally. Sometimes, he was so convincing in treating Sejanus this way that Sejanus almost believed it.
"We were both drunk, Janey," Coriolanus mumbled, as if Sejanus were stupid. "I don’t really remember what happened. But, well, if it happened, it’s because you wanted it. It’s because we wanted it. We’re married, it happens sometimes."
Coryo was so convincing, sometimes. He almost convinced Sejanus. Almost, except for one detail.
"You don’t like drinking, Coriolanus."
"I drink socially, you know that."
"You don’t drink to the point of getting drunk."
"Last night was different, Janey. Not that you have much room to talk. You don’t remember anything. I’m telling you, we were both drunk, and it happened. I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. Why are you making such a fuss?" He rolled his eyes. "It was just once. What are the chances you’ll get pregnant? For Panem’s sake. Stop acting like a hysteric."
Hysterical. Sejanus was acting hysterical. Because, after all, Coriolanus was right about one thing. What were the chances? How many people got pregnant after just one night of sex, just one time someone came inside? He was trembling as he curled up, hugging himself, his entire body shaking. It was okay. Everything would be okay. It was just this one time, he told himself. Just this one time. They were drunk. They were drunk, and Sejanus was more drunk, and it was a mistake. Just one mistake, one single mistake. Everything would be okay. He wouldn’t get pregnant. Coriolanus didn’t do it on purpose.
"Come here, love," he felt Coriolanus hugging him and kissing his head. "Let me take care of you. I’ll give you a bath."
(If he told himself that enough times, maybe it would finally sound like the truth. It’s not like Sejanus wasn’t used to lying to himself.)
Coriolanus always said that Sejanus looked like a doll.
He had a face that was too round, as if he had never aged, and eyes that were too big for his face. Lips large and perfect for biting and kissing. Sejanus was never delicate, but he had an air of fragility that invited abuse. And that night, how could Coriolanus have resisted encouraging Sejanus to drink more and more glasses of alcohol? And what else could he have done when he himself was intoxicated, and when he dragged Sejanus into the master bedroom, Sejanus barely able to walk, barely able to form a complete sentence?
Sejanus made pitiful noises as Coriolanus laid him on the bed, as he undressed him, as he kissed his face and bit his body and tried to murmur words of comfort, telling him that everything was fine and that Coryo was there to take care of him.
(It didn’t matter. Sejanus didn’t understand a single word he was saying.)
Sejanus’ big, brown eyes couldn’t focus on any one point. They rolled, trying to look at various places in the room, but never really focusing on anything. His body was so limp, so soft, and so inviting to touch. Coriolanus had never come so fast in all his years of marriage, biting Sejanus' neck, who could barely make any sound that resembled something intelligible.
“Coryo,” he mumbled again and again in that same confused and sleepy tone, like a battery-operated doll, the kind that made the same repetitive sounds as Coriolanus fucked him so hard that his head hit the headboard, and he let out a strangled sob. “Coryo.”
“Shh,” Coriolanus murmured to him, as if calming a scared child or a wounded animal, spreading soft kisses across his face in a contrast that was almost distasteful compared to what he was doing to his body. “It’s all right, baby. You’re mine, aren’t you? Mine, yes. And you’re going to give me everything I want. Aren’t you, Janey?”
He looked like a doll.
His doll.
And who’s never broken a doll at least once?