Oh, oh, oh. Fuck. Johnny can't even keep up the pretense of fearful revulsion, breath shuddering and catching as Niall's hand traces back up to his throat, wet lips and needle-sharp hairs brushing over his skin. Parody or no, the words are exactly what he needs to hear, sending a warm pulse through his body, his stomach flipping over - yes, Niall's got him, cornered, possessed, this is what he asked for, what he wanted, needed. Deserves. God, he's so fucking hard, and he's pathetic and disgusting, squirming, rubbing himself against Niall's body like an animal. His chin tilts up in an automatic reflex, responding to what seems like a kiss but is barely even contact, leaving him staring, breathless, lips wet and parted, up at his captor.

"I," he breathes, and swallows hard, shivering beneath Niall's hands and the press of his body. "I want you to use me." He hears himself speak the words at some distance, or under water, looking outward at himself in horror and rage, as he so completely, desperately, hungrily surrenders.

It only gets worse. "Touch me," he whispers, his eyes fluttering shut. "Ruin me." A sob almost escapes him and he clamps it down. "Please."