<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Cygnus didn't allow the sweet lull of unconsciousness take him. Of course he wouldn't. Cygnus wanted him present for the torture he was to bestow upon him. He couldn't breath for a few precious seconds after Cygnus removed his hand from his throat, but once his organs started to function again, Altair started into a fit of coughing that wracked his entire body. Cygnus still held his hand against his throat, Altair figuring he was toying with the idea of doing it again. More bruises across the pale skin of his neck would rise to the surface. Cygnus hit him, and then forced him to look back up at him, threatening.<br/>
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He wasn't usually tasked with forcing himself to hardness. He'd never needed to in the past, and if he'd not learned anything he might have pointed that out to Cygnus. If his voice even worked, which he wasn't willing to test just yet because that meant expending blessed oxygen he'd just regained. It hurt when Cygnus squeezed his neck again, sending him into another fit of coughing, but he tried his best to maintain eye contact with his rapist. Cygnus deposited himself inside his ass after what fell like an eternity. His tears still ran from his eyes, back into his hair, but he was smart enough to at least keep the look of disgust from crossing his features. Cygnus sat there after, and then told Altair what a shitty whore he was. His expression remained blank, even if he would have preferred to tell Cygnus to go fuck a donkey then if it provided the same pleasure. Altair didn't know how he was going to do any better; he only cringed at the promise of a next time, and was tugged unceremoniously from the bed.<br/>
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Altair was limp and lifeless as he hit the unforgiving wood of the cabin floor. Cygnus pressed against his stomach before kicking him, and Altair curled in on himself, but the blow proved that he could indeed still make noise. He might have been in a state of shock. He could hear Cygnus, but he sounded far away, and he couldn't think to answer him at all. He only lay where he'd been dumped, almost confused as to why he was on the floor. His skin was clammy, and he was losing focus, and uncomfortable state of being there and <i>not</i>. His expression was blank and he didn't look at Cygnus again. All the time he'd spent talking with Cygnus, dancing with him, easily the most pleasant experiences he'd shared with the captain were forgotten. Altair opened his mouth, swallowed, and tried again.<br/>
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“I..” he started, finding that his voice sounded entirely foreign to him, scratchy. “I want to go back with the other slaves.” That was all he could think to say. He didn't word it as a request, just a statement, something a desperate and scared child might say. The tears hadn't stopped falling, but he didn't sob or otherwise make another noise. He didn't care about Cygnus feeding him, or offering water, though he certainly needed it. At least not right then, too unnerved to process his hunger or thirst.</span></span>