Hellmouth chapter 6
Here's chapter 6 of 'Hellmouth'. Hope you like ;)
The first three chapters and warnings are here, and the fourth and fifth chapters and cover are here.
Chapter 6: The Pack
After Maytag's inevitable fall from grace, T-Bag had a couple of days to get his house in order. Ducky he sold off to a group of lowlife bikers for a couple packets of smokes. Kid was more trouble than he was worth to look after, and after he'd felt Maytag's mouth bring him off, T-Bag couldn't hardly bear to let the little chicken touch him.
T-Bag reclined in his palatial, and temorarily solo, abode and thought about that stolen time in the locker room. Boy was all red and green like Chrismas, his packages all picked over and ripped open. That pretty face swelled up, with one perfect eye still working, still gazing up at him with resignation, then resentment, then hope. Doc said he had to stay in sick bay for a few days, get some mending done, wouldn't even let T-Bag visit. Doc seemed to think he'd done the damage, and even though he kind of wished that he had, he resented the implication that his handiwork would look anywhere near as crude. Look at Ducky, for example, all them pretty colours distributed evenly over the whiteness, the careful pattern in shallow cuts drawn on his buttocks over a number of days. T-Bag took torture very seriously indeed; he was an artist, not a butcher.
Not even bothering to hang a sheet, T-Bag draped one leg over the edge of his bunk and pulled his rapidly hardening dick out of his pants. Let anyone that cared to have a show. One thing about ministering to yourself was that you always knew just what you liked, and at the moment he liked the thought of moving Maytag into his cell. He liked the thought of having those clever fingers and mouth all to himself after the lights went out. Queens'd do anything for their old man, he could get himself willingly sucked off up against them bars if he liked, show the world how good his boy was, how obedient, how well trained. Flip him over and drive into his ass so's it'd hurt real nice, make him scream and cry some so they knew that it was all about possession, all about the fact that T-Bag owned what they'd all wanted. With a hard noise in his throat he finished and wiped his hand on his bedsheet. Soon he'd have someone new to pick up after him.
Before he had all that, owned all that, there would be one last price that he and Maytag would have to pay. Fortunately it was going to hurt Maytag a lot more than it was going to hurt him. They were going to have to deal with his boys.
The day he went to collect Maytag from sickbay was sunny, little motes of dust dancing in the striped light from the windows. T-Bag made his leisurely way along with the Bull to welcome his new cellie, feeling all kinds of right with the world. He felt even better when Maytag was waiting for him, a shy smile tugging at his bruised lips as he came forward. The doc took her sweet time signing him out, pushing at her hair and clearing her throat, trying to catch his boy's eye, but Maytag was only looking one way. T-Bag felt his chest swell a little with pleasure, that the kid was staring at him because he wanted to, not because he was forced to. That was a pretty unusual feeling, but it was always real heartening when it happened. The doc was finally finished, and made a frustrated little noise as Maytag eagerly took the pocket offered to him.
"Angel," T-Bag muttered when they got a bitways down the hall, quiet enough so the Bull wouldn't hear them, "there's something's gotta happen, something I ain't too chipper about, but you need to understand that it's happening whether either of us like it or not."
"Um, okay," Maytag said slowly. Boy sounded hesitant, but there was trust there behind his words. No one had ever much trusted T-Bag.
"I'm going to protect you, you're my boy, but I have to do something you ain't going to like much first." That was an understatement. "It's just the way of things round us, but I promise I'll take care of you after." If he wasn't getting a knot in his belly just talking like this, which made no sense because this happened every time, and he hadn't felt one bit bad about it before. Time to shut up and get moving.
When the Bull let them back into Gen Pop, he led the way back over to his cell, where there was a sheet already hanging. Just for a second he let his fingers linger on the surface, half tempted just to walk away. He glanced at Maytag, who was fidgeting a little, waiting to be let in. With a resigned sigh, he pushed the sheet aside and took them both inside.
Four big men plus two smaller ones is a lot to fit into a pathetic little space like they were allowed to call their own in Fox River, and the four top dogs in T-Bag's gang were doing their best to squeeze themselves in without sitting on the bunk. They'd've each arrived separately, so that the Bulls wouldn't notice there was a gathering happening.
All of them gave big leering grins at Maytag when he walked in, and the boy himself took one frightened glance round and looked about ready to shit himself. T-Bag stretched out on his bunk with a smoke, and watched as the other fellas poked and prodded at Maytag, sizing him up with some ribald comments. He'd seen this plenty of times, and he didn't really feel like watching. Told himself he was bored of it all, and stared up at the springs of the bunk above him. Maytag was a good boy, kept quiet while the big men huffed and grunted, pushing into his ass without ceremony. Didn't take none of them too long, mercifully, and soon he was alone with a shivering, bloodied up kid, and didn't that feel familiar. T-Bag pushed off his bunk and went to kneel beside his boy. Maytag didn't flinch away from him like they usually did, but just lay there looking dejected.
"You were a real good boy, angelchile, you took it real well. That won't happen again. Just means that if anything happens to me, one o' them'll look after you." Softly, T-Bag pushed the oddly-dyed hair back from Maytag's forehead, surprised when the kid leaned into his touch. "Promised I'd take care of you after, didn't I?" Maytag nodded slowly. "Well, come here." T-Bag offered his hand and the kid took it, let himself be raised up so he was standing. Gently T-Bag stripped away the prison issue duds until the kid was naked, then took a clean cloth and washed the blood off his legs. Finally, he took down the blanket from the top bunk and wrapped the boy in it, laying down on his own bunk and pulling the boy down next to him so Maytag could rest his head on T-Bag's chest.
"Don't go getting used to this, boy, this is a one time deal." He felt the kid's head nod once, twice against his shoulder. "You gonna take care of my needs from here on out." The hand with the splinted finger worked its way free to splay across T-Bag's chest.
'Ain't never been a kid like him for surprising a fella,' T-Bag thought comfortably as Maytag's breathing slowed into sleep.
Next
The first three chapters and warnings are here, and the fourth and fifth chapters and cover are here.
Chapter 6: The Pack
After Maytag's inevitable fall from grace, T-Bag had a couple of days to get his house in order. Ducky he sold off to a group of lowlife bikers for a couple packets of smokes. Kid was more trouble than he was worth to look after, and after he'd felt Maytag's mouth bring him off, T-Bag couldn't hardly bear to let the little chicken touch him.
T-Bag reclined in his palatial, and temorarily solo, abode and thought about that stolen time in the locker room. Boy was all red and green like Chrismas, his packages all picked over and ripped open. That pretty face swelled up, with one perfect eye still working, still gazing up at him with resignation, then resentment, then hope. Doc said he had to stay in sick bay for a few days, get some mending done, wouldn't even let T-Bag visit. Doc seemed to think he'd done the damage, and even though he kind of wished that he had, he resented the implication that his handiwork would look anywhere near as crude. Look at Ducky, for example, all them pretty colours distributed evenly over the whiteness, the careful pattern in shallow cuts drawn on his buttocks over a number of days. T-Bag took torture very seriously indeed; he was an artist, not a butcher.
Not even bothering to hang a sheet, T-Bag draped one leg over the edge of his bunk and pulled his rapidly hardening dick out of his pants. Let anyone that cared to have a show. One thing about ministering to yourself was that you always knew just what you liked, and at the moment he liked the thought of moving Maytag into his cell. He liked the thought of having those clever fingers and mouth all to himself after the lights went out. Queens'd do anything for their old man, he could get himself willingly sucked off up against them bars if he liked, show the world how good his boy was, how obedient, how well trained. Flip him over and drive into his ass so's it'd hurt real nice, make him scream and cry some so they knew that it was all about possession, all about the fact that T-Bag owned what they'd all wanted. With a hard noise in his throat he finished and wiped his hand on his bedsheet. Soon he'd have someone new to pick up after him.
Before he had all that, owned all that, there would be one last price that he and Maytag would have to pay. Fortunately it was going to hurt Maytag a lot more than it was going to hurt him. They were going to have to deal with his boys.
The day he went to collect Maytag from sickbay was sunny, little motes of dust dancing in the striped light from the windows. T-Bag made his leisurely way along with the Bull to welcome his new cellie, feeling all kinds of right with the world. He felt even better when Maytag was waiting for him, a shy smile tugging at his bruised lips as he came forward. The doc took her sweet time signing him out, pushing at her hair and clearing her throat, trying to catch his boy's eye, but Maytag was only looking one way. T-Bag felt his chest swell a little with pleasure, that the kid was staring at him because he wanted to, not because he was forced to. That was a pretty unusual feeling, but it was always real heartening when it happened. The doc was finally finished, and made a frustrated little noise as Maytag eagerly took the pocket offered to him.
"Angel," T-Bag muttered when they got a bitways down the hall, quiet enough so the Bull wouldn't hear them, "there's something's gotta happen, something I ain't too chipper about, but you need to understand that it's happening whether either of us like it or not."
"Um, okay," Maytag said slowly. Boy sounded hesitant, but there was trust there behind his words. No one had ever much trusted T-Bag.
"I'm going to protect you, you're my boy, but I have to do something you ain't going to like much first." That was an understatement. "It's just the way of things round us, but I promise I'll take care of you after." If he wasn't getting a knot in his belly just talking like this, which made no sense because this happened every time, and he hadn't felt one bit bad about it before. Time to shut up and get moving.
When the Bull let them back into Gen Pop, he led the way back over to his cell, where there was a sheet already hanging. Just for a second he let his fingers linger on the surface, half tempted just to walk away. He glanced at Maytag, who was fidgeting a little, waiting to be let in. With a resigned sigh, he pushed the sheet aside and took them both inside.
Four big men plus two smaller ones is a lot to fit into a pathetic little space like they were allowed to call their own in Fox River, and the four top dogs in T-Bag's gang were doing their best to squeeze themselves in without sitting on the bunk. They'd've each arrived separately, so that the Bulls wouldn't notice there was a gathering happening.
All of them gave big leering grins at Maytag when he walked in, and the boy himself took one frightened glance round and looked about ready to shit himself. T-Bag stretched out on his bunk with a smoke, and watched as the other fellas poked and prodded at Maytag, sizing him up with some ribald comments. He'd seen this plenty of times, and he didn't really feel like watching. Told himself he was bored of it all, and stared up at the springs of the bunk above him. Maytag was a good boy, kept quiet while the big men huffed and grunted, pushing into his ass without ceremony. Didn't take none of them too long, mercifully, and soon he was alone with a shivering, bloodied up kid, and didn't that feel familiar. T-Bag pushed off his bunk and went to kneel beside his boy. Maytag didn't flinch away from him like they usually did, but just lay there looking dejected.
"You were a real good boy, angelchile, you took it real well. That won't happen again. Just means that if anything happens to me, one o' them'll look after you." Softly, T-Bag pushed the oddly-dyed hair back from Maytag's forehead, surprised when the kid leaned into his touch. "Promised I'd take care of you after, didn't I?" Maytag nodded slowly. "Well, come here." T-Bag offered his hand and the kid took it, let himself be raised up so he was standing. Gently T-Bag stripped away the prison issue duds until the kid was naked, then took a clean cloth and washed the blood off his legs. Finally, he took down the blanket from the top bunk and wrapped the boy in it, laying down on his own bunk and pulling the boy down next to him so Maytag could rest his head on T-Bag's chest.
"Don't go getting used to this, boy, this is a one time deal." He felt the kid's head nod once, twice against his shoulder. "You gonna take care of my needs from here on out." The hand with the splinted finger worked its way free to splay across T-Bag's chest.
'Ain't never been a kid like him for surprising a fella,' T-Bag thought comfortably as Maytag's breathing slowed into sleep.
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