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All Raoul could really do was wait for his men to arrive with back-up. If he weren’t so injured himself, or so outnumbered, he would probably be able to do more. It wasn’t like he hadn’t fought his way out of situations with odds worse than these before, but he had been alone then, without someone he wanted to protect.
Séverine knew this. If it weren’t for her she knew Raoul wouldn't be in this mess. He could have run the risk and risked her being shot, but he hadn’t. He’d made the choice to protect her, even if this situation was horrific in its own right. She thought of this as she looked up at him, clinging to his reasons rather than to what he was doing.
It wasn’t like Séverine had never been fucked on a cold concrete floor with a gun to her head before, or with witnesses, and it wasn’t as though she and Raoul had never had sex before, either. Séverine didn’t know much about Raoul’s past experiences, but he hadn’t faltered when he undressed her and had lowered her to the floor so gently, and the way he even managed to get it up at all left Séverine thinking this wasn’t his first time fucking under pressure.
Séverine could feel what he was doing inside of her, and how her skirt bunched around her thighs, and how many people were watching her, but she also felt Raoul’s hand on her waist, so gentle, and how his thumb ran circles against her skin. Raoul’s face was turned down towards hers but he wasn’t looking at her, no matter how much Séverine wanted to know he was with her, that she wasn’t going through this alone.
She knew why he didn’t look, though; the next time he looked at her he didn’t want to have to teach himself to see her as the girl they forced him to fuck on the concrete floor that was now digging into her shoulders.
(She’d taught herself not to see the girls she’d been forced to fuck as just that, but Raoul wasn’t her and she was glad he'd never had to learn that lesson.)
He was doing this for her. It was some humiliation tactic on their assailants’ part, but for Raoul it was the easiest way to draw out the time until his back-up arrived. She and Raoul were safe, so long as these men were entertained. Fifteen people were too many for Raoul to take on while still protecting Séverine; this was something he did for love.
Above her Raoul groaned, and Séverine felt as he finished inside her. She tried to stay calm but her breath quickened anyway, and she tensed beneath him. The most she could say for herself was that she didn’t cry, and that she stayed quiet, but it didn’t feel like enough as she lay there beneath Raoul, shaking.
He squeezed her hips (the most he could safely offer in the way of comfort just then) and then pulled out, giving her space but still hovering around her, using his body to shield her.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had to do that with an audience,” Raoul said as he adjusted his trousers.
“Not half bad,” one man said. Séverine couldn’t see him, but she could hear the cruel smile in his voice as he said, “Now it’s our turn.”
“No, no,” Raoul snapped. “She hasn’t finished yet. It’s only fair, no?”
“We told you to fuck her.”
“I don’t know what kind of depraved men you are, but when I fuck a woman I make sure she finishes,” Raoul countered.
There was a round of laughter, and then someone calling out, “You really think she can put on a good show? Watching you fuck her was like watching you fuck a corpse.”
Séverine looked up to Raoul. He was smiling -- a predatory look on him at the best of times. He might not be able to do anything for them now, but she knew that he would; he was too angry not to.
But he was a patient man, and for now he was biding his time. Séverine shivered.
“She might not be able to,” Raoul said, “but I can.”
“Well go on then,” someone said.
Raoul laughed, then reached down between her legs. What they’d been forced to do had been unpleasant, but Raoul did his best not to hurt her. Now, although he was being considerate and not gnashing his fingers against her body, he wasn’t going out of his way to make her feel good.
(Good. She didn’t want to enjoy this.)
She spared a glance up to his face, to the hungry look in his eyes and the calculating anger in his fixed expression. He was planning something. Buying time, of course, and making sure he wouldn’t be in a compromising position when their back-up arrived, and of course saving her the trouble of letting these other men rape her, but there was something else there, too.
Men loved to think that they were naturally good at sex, not just at using a woman’s body to get off. And Séverine – she was good at pretending the man fucking her was the best fuck she ever had. It wasn’t hard to go along with it. Pretend to enjoy it. Pretend what Raoul was doing to her was the best he could give, even though she knew him and knew that he could give better. Show these creeps that what Raoul could do under pressure was better than anything they could do with their cocks at the best of times.
Séverine stretched out, reaching one arm out and grabbing at Raoul with the others. She made the right movements, keeping her breath perfectly in time with what she could feel Raoul doing with his hands. The point was to drag this on for as long as possible, to give these men a show and to help Raoul turn this situation around on the people who tried to hurt him.
Gradually the room fell quiet, with only a few strained comments that Séverine could hear and a few moments of tense laughter. This was too candid, too real. These people wanted to hurt them, and this wasn't the show they'd wanted.
Séverine closed her eyes, trying not to focus too hard on what Raoul was doing or how his hands felt against her, arching her back and gasping when was appropriate, and then the gunfire interrupted them and Séverine opened her eyes, just in time to see their back-up finally arriving.