Every muscle ached, every nerve felt frayed. The simple act of undressing, which he generally took for granted, hurt like hell. And he suffered through it by gnashing his teeth and fisting his hands to combat the pain, because he deserved it. He deserved every pin prick of discomfort, every nerve twitch and every muscle spasm.
His shirt was the first to go, then his shoes. Difficult as those tasks were, he was going to have an even harder time with his pants. Because pulling them off would unveil his cock, and the moment his fingers pupped the button of his jeans, he went right back to the moment he'd hastily jerked denim down just enough to bring his cock out, and slam that poor, innocent man in the stairwell.
Chris forced himself to do it fast, despite the pain he felt, or because of it. He'd raped that man even though he had said he wanted it, he couldn't have wanted what Chris gave him. He probably torn him in half. Chris dropped back onto the bed, and drew his knees up to his chest. He wasn't even aware that his hand was wrapped around his cock as he lay there sobbing in a most humiliating and undignified way, howling like a cat in heat.