Summary: Angel and Spike in prison, writtenf or [info]sweptawaybayou for [info]sangpassionnes A/S Human AU Ficathon
Warnings: Violence, first time m/m sex, kink, prison life... this turned out a little kinkier than I'd expected.
Standing alone in the lineup, holding a horrid orange jumper, a lone man trembled in fear, nibbling at his bottom lip, causing it to swell with the small tears being inflicted by strong white teeth. Taking one hesitant step forward, trying to shuffle along with the other inmates, hampered by the shackles binding his legs, he clutched the clothing like a lifeline. Drawing in deep heaving breaths, his chest swelled outward, fingers pulling at the coarse fabric in a white knuckled grip, finally tasting the blood in his mouth. One shaking hand came up to wipe at his mouth, trying to erase the taste of copper on his dry sandpapery tongue, chapped skin catching, causing him to whimper at the small pain. Looking around furtively he quickly wiped the small smear of blood on his torn jeans. He knew he was the little fish in the big shark tank now, he’d be lucky if he wasn’t eaten alive.
One shuffling step at a time he made his way forward, head up, trying not to show his fear, but the multitudes of dark eyes staring down at him had him stumbling along behind the man in front of him. Giving in to the terror coursing through his body, he finally lowered his head, clutching even tighter at his clothing, closing his eyes he prayed to anyone who may be listening for strength to survive his long stay here.
The officer at the front of the lineup was speaking in a loud voice, booming across the sounds of the other inmates looking at the new arrivals. Listing off in lineup their cell blocks and numbers, and finally it was his turn. “Whittier, C56.” Staring him right in the eyes, a slow mean smile moved across his face. “Enjoy your stay here Whittier, you got lucky.” Moving quickly through the rest of the lineup, he was soon gone.
The shackles were quickly undone and he was led up the stairs, towards the cell blocks. He was on the uppermost floor, towards the end. Isolated, no one would hear him scream. Closing his eyes he shook away the visions dancing through his mind of all the torments that could befall him in a place like this, knowing in his heart that reality would be so much worse.
The other officer stopped in front of his cell as the door was swung open and a hulking behemoth of a man unfolded his larger frame from the bottom cot, standing beside the beds, arms dangling loosely at his sides, trying to appear harmless. It didn’t work.
The man stood, coiled power in every line and muscle of his body, seemingly so relaxed until you looked closer and saw the tensed frame, ready to pounce at one wrong move. A predator in every small movement, he practically screamed of violence and death.
”Have fun Whittier. Don’t forget to brush those pearly whites before bedtime.” With a quick slap to his back side the officer slowly backed out of the cell before shutting the door.
The dark haired man looked him up and down before slowly sinking back onto his cot. Hands folded behind his head, lips tight in a straight line, he raised one eyebrow in question.
”Spike Whittier,” he mumbled out through trembling lips, still clutching the horrid orange jumper as a lifeline.
”Didn’t ask your name boy. I already knew it, although… that isn’t the name in your file is it William?” Soft voice, carefully kept neutral as the larger man spoke. It was nothing like Spike had expected.
”Nickname,” once again trembled out through hitching breaths.
”Don’t care. Put your stuff in the cupboard and get back over here. There will be rules to staying with me. Don’t care if you want to listen or not, you will.” Short abrupt bursts of speech, gruff voice, thick with gravel now as his irritation crept through.
Spike trembled as he put his things in the locker, he didn’t understand why he’d been allowed to keep his torn jeans and white shirt, he’d seen all the other men dressed in the orange jumpers already, he didn’t belong here, he didn’t understand. The man sitting mere feet away from him was dressed in trousers of a soft material, a linen dress shirt casually dressing his muscular frame. He looked so out of place, like he should be running the place not living in a cell with hundreds of scoundrels surrounding him.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath for courage he closed the locker door, before turning back around to face his cellmate.
”I know all about you dear William. Charged with aggravated assault, at first, but your victim died from complications from the beating you laid on him. Ten year sentence, eligible for parole after five… you caught your lover in bed with someone else,” shaking his head, he looked Spike up and down, “Small as you are I’m surprised you had the strength to lay a beating on anyone, let alone kill them with it. Not that it matters, everyone here has a story, yours isn’t any different from anyone else’s, except for one fact, you’re here with me William, and while you’re here you’ll be living by my rules.”
There was a short pause in the steady stream of talking, as Spike digested the fact that his cellmate knew more than he should have, “how?” Was all he managed to say before he was cut off.
”Doesn’t matter how, all you need to know is that I rule this place, my word is law, and you’d be best off understanding that right now. You, I wanted you, here with me. I asked and here you are. You’ll learn everything else you need to know as the days go on, but you’re here for a long time boy, you best know where your place is now.” Rising swiftly from the cot, a blur of speed before Spike’s eyes as his hand shot out landing a forceful blow across Spike’s face; he fell to the floor with a startled sound, clutching the burning mark gracing his cheek.
”That’s where you belong. When we’re here? You are to be at my feet at all times. Rule number one. Don’t forget the lessons you’re taught, and we won’t have any problems.” Sinking gracefully back onto the cot the dark man stared Spike in the eye until Spike, having finally understood, lowered his eyes to the floor.
”Yes sir,” his voice a bare whisper of sound in the quiet cell.
”Good boy,” He said, nodding to himself, the first smile he’d had since meeting Spike danced across his lips and was quickly gone. “You’ll do fine boy.” Smugness laced his voice, as he leaned back against the wall.
”Your name, sir?” Spike whispered again, afraid to raise his voice even slightly and incurring the wrath of the much larger man.
”Angel,” was spoken so quietly Spike almost didn’t catch it, he found himself staring at the implacable face of the man seated before him when he realized he’d heard correctly. This man was certainly no Angel.
Once again silence reigned in the small space, the only sounds the harsh panting
of Spike’s breath rasping out through his too tight throat, and Angel’s
quiet even breathing as they stared at each other.
The evening meal was a horrible affair. The meal consisted of congealed gravy, Salisbury steak, lumpy potatoes, and lima beans. Spike barely touched a bite, until Angel leaned over and placed his lips close to his ear. “Eat it.” Shivers ran up and down his spine at the menace in the simple command, causing him to bring the fork to his mouth as he began to choke down the gross meal.
Freezing in his seat as gentle fingers stroked through his hair. “Good boy,” was said from next to him as Angel carded his fingers through is platinum locks; he didn’t glance up from his own meal, which was much better than his own.
They sat off to the side at a table by themselves, the other inmates giving them a wide berth, their chatter making the hall loud and raucous. Spike could see the groups of people segregated into their various nationalities, all seated about talking to each other, while no one came near their table. Startled out of his musings when Angel pushed back his chair, leaving their trays behind, he firmly took hold of the back of Spike’s neck, pushing him towards the door.
”Time for lesson two, boy,” soft menacing words making Spike tremble in fear at what his mind was supplying for him. The light bruise on his cheek aching with every tremble racing through his body, he knew from that one welcoming gesture what Angel was capable of; he was his to do with as he wished. No one could save him now.
”Yes sir,” Spike responded, following the light pressure on the
back of his neck, walking with Angel back towards their cell. His new home,
the place where his lessons would all take place.
Angel leaned back against the wall, legs spread, arms held loosely against his crotch, as he stared at Spike standing nervously just inside the cell. Looking him up and down, he watched his body twitching this way and that, his eyes downcast, fear radiating off of him in huge engulfing waves. “Strip.” One single word, clear, concise, to the point, causing Spike to stiffen, his fingers going to them hem of his battered white t-shirt, fiddling with it before raising it above his head, his eyes never wavering from the floor.
The clothing disappeared under shaking hands, piling softly on the floor at Spike’s feet, without raising his eyes, he folded his hands neatly in front of his soft cock, and stood on trembling legs, waiting for the next command, not wanting to invite any more attention than he was already being given.
”Kneel,” short abrupt words, causing Spike to instantly drop to his knees, the sharp bite of pain making the situation all the more real. Without realizing what he was doing, he folded his hands behind his back, keeping his eyes trained on the floor as he slowly shuffled on his knees towards the bed, coming to a stop between Angel’s knees. “Good boy,” Angel’s voice was soft, his hand coming up to gently card through Spike’s platinum hair, fingers tightening and pulling Spike’s head to the side. “You’ll listen to me boy, follow my words and you’ll do just fine.”
Angel’s hand moved to his zipper, undoing it slowly, the sound loud in the quite cell, causing Spike’s breath to hitch in his throat as he began to panic. Eyes darting up quickly to look at Angel’s face before quickly shifting back down to the hand moving inside the pants, rubbing the hard cock within.
”Keep your lips wrapped around your teeth, if I feel teeth, I’ll make sure I never feel them again, do you understand?” Angel ground out as he stroked his erection, inside his trousers.
”Yes Sir,” Spike breathed out, terror lacing his words, as he followed the direction of Angel’s hand in his hair, forcing him down, towards the leaking cock peaking out between the dark edges of fabric.
The scent is what hit him first, the dark, dank, musty smell of Angel’s sex. It smelled like earth, sweat, musk, a purely masculine scent, so much different than what he was used to. Closing his eyes he put his lips to the head and attempted to take it into his mouth, gagging slightly at the flavor bursting on his tongue. It was sour and salty, like nothing he’d ever tasted before, closing his eyes tighter he put the taste out of his mind and set to work following Angel’s whispered words.
”Harder, suck a little bit, that’s it my boy, take it a little deeper, lick around the head…” was forced out through clenched, fingers gripping tighter in Spike’s hair, forcing him down, pushing past Spike’s resisting head. Angel could hear the gagging noises coming from deep within Spike’s chest as he forced himself into his throat. “Don’t fight it, let me in, relax, just relax and let me…” Angel thrust up harshly as he felt the muscles of Spike’s throat relax, thrusting a few times into the tight confines of the velvety channel. “Good boy,” he ground out, fingers clutching convulsively in Spike’s hair. Pulling his head up he let Spike have his head, giving him a little bit of maneuvering room, wanting to see what he’d do with it.
Spike closed his eyes, plunging back down on the cock in his mouth, swallowing it down, listening for the sound of grinding teeth, the hitching of breath, something to tell him he was doing it right, the clutching of fingers in his hair, convulsively tightening and loosening as the moved with the motion of his head.
Thinking back on the few blowjobs he’d been given in his life he tried to emulate the tongue tricks his girlfriend Dru had used to drive him out of his mind with lust, moving up the shaft use the coarse underside of his tongue on the tick vein underneath, before quickly tonguing the slit at the top, almost gagging as Angel thrust into his mouth and down his throat again.
Spike could feel his own cock getting hard the more Angel used him. The feel of those large rough hands clutching at his head, making him want to try harder, wanting to feel the thick stream of cum shooting into his mouth and sliding down his throat, wanting to be the one with the power, but knowing where it really lay.
”Enough,” rough, harsh words grated out through clenched teeth as Angel pulled Spike off his cock. “You’d think you’d done that before boy. You’re a quick study, you’ll make me proud,” his mouth twitching up at the corner as he pulled Spike more fully into his lap. “This is going to be the hard part,” spitting onto his hand he reached back and speared into Spike’s hole with one finger, moistening the dry tissue, causing Spike to tense and let out a small sound of pain. “Reach under the pillow, grab the bottle there,” Angel’s words were abrupt, keeping his hand still as Spike did as he was told. Taking the bottle and opening it one handed before pulling his finger out and squirting a generous amount onto the end of his finger.
This time he was gentle when he pushed his thick calloused finger in, trying not to abuse the tender tissues, working the lube into the dry flesh, watching Spike’s face for any sign of pain. Pulling his fingers out he put the spout of the bottle against the tight opening and gently pushed, breaching the clenching ring, as Spike moaned in pain. “Stay still boy,” he spoke quietly as he squirted half the bottle into the tight ass, “this is going to hurt like a bitch, it always does the first time, but don’t fight it and it won’t hurt as much as it could.” He slowly worked two fingers through the tight barrier, scissoring them slightly as he felt Spike relax around his fingers, watching his face, slightly screwed up with pain, the cobalt blue eyes closed tight against the feeling.
Spike had kept his hands behind his back, even though the position should have been awkward, straddling Angel’s large lap. “Put your hands on my shoulders,” Angel pulled his fingers out, and placed his large hands on Spike’s small hips, lifting him into position, moving one hand down to the base of his cock to guide him into the spasming hole.
Spike's fingers clenched on the firm, warm flesh of Angel’s shoulders, steadying himself as he felt his ass breached for the first time. Eyes flying wide as Angel grabbed his hips and slammed him down onto his hard cock, mouth flying open in a silent scream of pain as he was torn asunder .
Angel held still as the scent of blood filled the room, waiting for the pain to pass, for Spike to begin breathing again. “Breathe, William, I want you to feel the pain, I want you to remember this, remember me taking you, making you mine.” Angel ground out as he fought the urge to move, listening as Spike started breathing in harsh pants, looking down to see that Spike hadn’t lost his erection to the pain. Fingers stroking over trembling hips, soothing circles on the heated flesh, “you liked that, didn’t you my boy, liked the pain, the violence of it all, you like the tearing, the being owned, being owned by me…” Angel’s voice was a soft sibilant hiss of sound escaping through clenched teeth as he began to thrust into Spike’s burning entrance, his hand coming down with a resounding slap upon his clenching ass.
Eyes closing tight mouth moving but no sound coming out, he jerked against the spank placed on his buttocks, his hips moving of their own volition arching into the bruising pace being set by Angel’s cock; thrusting down taking him deeper, harder, faster, wanting more, his own cock neglected and forgotten as he rode higher on the pain.
”You’re just a pain junkie, a slut, nothing more than a common street whore aren’t you dear William,” Angel ground out, watching Spike’s face as he rode him with abandon, mouth gaping, eyes closed, fingers clutching his shoulders, leaving red marks behind. “My little pain slut, you want to be my little slut, don’t you William?” Angel barked out as Spike rode him faster, reacting to his words, taking him deeper with each thrust, flying on the pain now, ass clenching around Angel’s cock in vice grip.
Angel brought his hand down repeatedly on Spike’s ass, feeling the twitch of his cock against his stomach every time he made contact, watching Spike's face twist more each time, watching the flush suffuse his skin, the sweat sliding off his face, feeling it on his back, between his ass cheeks. “Can you cum William? Cum with me in your ass, feel me owning you, wanting you, cum without ever touching your cock, cum for me dear William. Cum for me boy,” and with barely a sound, without ever touching his cock Spike came in great bursts, painting Angel's flat abdomen in milky white fluid, teeth biting through his lip, a small stain of blood across his mouth.
Angel closed his eyes, gripping Spike's hips and slamming up hard in a jerky rhythm riding out his own orgasm as he came within the tight confines of Spike's jerking body.
Spike sat with his eyes closed, the jerking cock still buried within him as he pondered his situation. He’d just been ass fucked by a complete stranger and he’d gotten off on it. He’d liked it, he’d loved the dirty words dripping from Angel’s tongue, he got harder at the thought of being Angel’s slut, he’d gotten off on the pain.
It was time to re-evaluate who he’d thought he was. He didn’t like pain, he didn’t like men, he didn’t like giving head, he wasn’t that person. Shaking his head slightly he rethought that. Maybe he wasn’t before, but he certainly was now.
”You’re such a good boy, so very keen to learn, you liked sucking my cock didn’t you William my boy.” Angel looked down into the tired confused blue eyes, smirking slightly at the confusion on the boys face.
”Yes sir,” Spike trembled out, not bothering to lie, it was obvious he’d enjoyed himself.
”That was lesson two my boy. Don’t forget. Pain makes everything sweeter.” Leaning forward he placed a soft kiss on Spike's trembling mouth, before lifting him off his wilting cock. “Lay down, go to sleep, there’ll be more lessons tomorrow.” Angel placed Spike near the wall, turning him to face it, before laying down himself and closing his eyes. “You’ll need your rest my boy.”
Smiling in satisfaction at how the day had gone. Williams first day had gone beautifully well, he was more apt than he had first thought, the boy read like a text book psych case, all classic repression and inherent submissiveness. He was worth training right, so eager, so bright, the obvious intelligence would be a much needed diversion in the years to come.
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