He tries to kick, to twist, to drive his elbows into soft spots that don't exist before his arms are pinned on the rough stone he'd been spread eagled on just moments ago. Tries to kick, but his legs are held fast and spread wide. He can feel cooling blood beneath his cheek where it's pressed into the stone and he howls again, in rage and despair.

"Just fuck me and kill me and... and be done with it!" he rasps when he runs out of the voice for wordless bellowing. "Just... just be done with me." It's almost a plea, but he won't let it be. He'll cling to that, at least; he'll demand, he won't beg.