White, White Walls
Spencer glanced nervously around as he poured soap into his hand. His eyes would rest appreciatively at some of the male forms – after all he was a young healthy homosexual man. If he was to be completely honest with himself this whole prison shower scene was actually one of his private fantasies. Of course then he'd be standing next to an absolutely gorgeous man before 'accidentally' dropping the soap.
Out of the corners of his eyes he took in first the hairy white guy on his right and the guy with the bad acne on his back to his left. He sighed and looked absentmindedly across the room as he started to rub the soap against his scalp not halting till his gaze wandered almost all the way to the entrance and was met with something very interesting.
Eyes were a lovely a pair of dark chocolate.
The body the color of milk chocolate.
The muscles were perfectly sculpted.
Spencer forced his eyes to meet the black man's again. He couldn't read the look in his eyes and blamed it on the distance and the increasing amount of steam. He smiled a small smile and knew he looked awkward. The black man kept the eye contact and Spencer thought he might have seen a smile. A small one. Just a twitch of lips. He watched in wonder as the black man turned around.
Spencer fought the urge to tilt his head appreciatively. He won – mostly – as his head only tilted slightly to the side as he admired the black man's backside. Those shoulders, that back, those legs, that ass (Spencer felt himself salivate when his eyes rested appreciatively on this part). He could almost imagine how it would feel like to dig his nails into that muscular, tight delicious-looking body part as it's owner would be doing his job, pumping between Spencer's legs creating sensations beyond belief.
He took a deep breath to stop his physique from reacting to his line of thought. He turned his head to take a look at the hairy man – that would probably do the job perfectly. He was met with a patient smile.
“Finally got you attention.” Spencer felt his heart drop as he recognized the big man. “I see you remember me, Gorgeous. Color me flattered.”
Hankel was leaning against the white tiles on the floor smiling confidently at Spencer.
“W-well, it was n-nice meeting you here, but I really should get going n-now...” Hankel moved a hand to Spencer's head and touched a lock of hair.
“You should rinse your hair first.”
Spencer turned up the water pressure and fought to stay upright as the water shot heavily down on him erasing every trace of soap. He turned off the water.
“Well, n-now I really got to go.” He turned to go but stopped at the look of four men as big or bigger than Hankel standing around him with their arms crossed. Their eyes made him feel even more vulnerable than he had felt when he had first stepped into the shower room, naked as the dsay he was born.
“Not so fast, you beautiful, little thing,” Hankel said and Spencer felt him take a step closer, too frightened to take his eyes from the other men. “I said that I'd introduce you to my friends the next time we met.”
Spencer smiled a bit shakily at the men who was now grinning. “It was really n-nice meeting you, but unfortunately I have previous engagement so I should really leave n-now...” Third time's the charm, third time's the charm, third time's the charm, he chanted in his head. Judging by the looks of the men in front of him it didn't work. Why was it that he left the cell to take a shower?
“But we really wanted to have a bit of a... chat,” the men chuckled quietly, “with you.”
Spencer turned to face Hankel at last. He knew his eyes was wide with fear but he had to try to reason. “Do you really want to do this now? With all these people surrounding you?” Hankel looked at him arrogantly.
“Do they look like they care?”
Spencer glanced around hoping to see some sort of rescue. Almost all the other prisoner's were standing with the back turned to him or with an indifferent look on their faces. The black man from across the room was still standing with his back turned against him and he was probably the one person Spender was most likely to reaction from, if he was to judge by the chemistry between them. He had been pretty sure there had been something anyway. Not that it would help him now.Now there was only one thing left to do.
“Please don't do this, I'll do anything!” Hankel moved closer and once again touched Spencer's hair. He felt the urge to back off but knew that only would serve to bring him closer to Hankel's friends. He shifted closer to the wall instead, and was surprised by the cold sensation when his back hit the tiles far sooner than he had anticipated.
“Well, if you're ready to do anything, I think this will do just fine...” Before Spencer could make a sound he was turned around and pressed hard against the cold plane. He could feel Hankel's hard cock press against his thigh and wanted to vomit. His favorite fantasy was ruined forever, suddenly occurred to him, making him feel sick with himself on top of the situation and Hankel and the fact that he was seconds away from being raped.
He really never should have left the cell.
“I've looked forward to this the entire day, Gorgeous. I hope you'll enjoy it just as much as me.” Hankel wrapped his hand around Spencer's face, leaving only a small crack between his fingers Spencer's nasal region, so he wouldn't pass out from lack of oxygen. Spencer tried to struggle but felt how his hopeless tries to free himself only aroused Hankel more, making him grunt lowly at the friction it created between their bodies. The adrenalin pumped through Spencer's veins – the despair spread along with it. He could feel Hankel position himself a his opening and terror gripped his heart when he realized he wasn't going to be prepared.
Pain blocked out his every thought as Hankel penetrated him, forcing his entire length in in one deep thrust. The pain intensified as he started pumping back and forth.
Spencer wanted to scream and if he had had enough air he would have. He drew in short desperate breaths through his nose trying to keep conscious. He knew, even as the pain seemed to tear his body apart, that passing out would be the ultimate victory to Hankel.
He wouldn't give that to him.
A choked cry of pain when Hankel's thrusts grew more aggressive was muffled by the big hand covering Spencer's mouth, and the shuddered moan from behind him did nothing but bring a bit of relief when Hankel stopped pumping. Tears and snot floated inelegantly from various openings in Spencer's face and he found himself distantly wishing for his mother to come save him.
The sharp pain disappeared and was replaced with a more dull one. The hand moved and Spencer gasped for air feeling the dizziness clear a bit. He slumped against the wall as he felt Hankel move away. The tears changed from being tears of pain to being those of humiliation. He bit his lip trying to keep a heartbroken sob in his throat as he felt new arms pressing him against the wall.
He yelped when the person behind him thrust into the torn opening.
“Shut up, damnit,” a voice behind him said and a hand slammed Spencer's head hard against the wall. Everything was black for a moment but the pain forced him back.
A cry of pain was stopped as a hand slammed across his mouth.
“How do you like my friends Gorgeous?” Hankel's voice whispered in Spencer's ear. “Because they're pretty crazy about you.” He chuckled and Spencer felt something other than his body being torn to pieces. If he had been able to think clearly he might have recognized it as his spirit, his last fragment of innocence and purity. He might also have noticed the dripping feeling of blood trailing down his forehead and the insides of his legs.
In stead he felt the darkness close in.
At the sound of loud voices the arms let go of Spencer limp body and he dropped silently to the ground.
Why is the water red? he thought before there was nothing left but the darkness.
Spencer was lying on his stomach. He didn't know where he was and why it felt wrong that the thing he lied on was so soft. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to get them used to the sharp light and the bright white walls.
Ice cold tiles against his chest.
Hankel's burning body pressed against his back.
The excruciating pain shooting from his rectum shutting down all attempts to think.
Then the cold tiles of the floor and the red water.
Spencer's breath was stuck in his throat when he tried to get up – he was strapped down and his ass hurt. He whimpered in fear.
Think logically, Spencer he thought to himself, fighting to keep the panic from taking over. You're not in the bath, think! Where are you? He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing calmly. He opened his eyes again and took in the room without comparing it to the shower room.
There was a window with bars.
There was an empty bed not far from him.
Spencer breathed deep when truth hit him.
He was in the infirmary.
Tears of relief and humiliation started running down his cheeks. He felt weak.
“Well, good morning, son. I see you have joined the world of the living again.” Spencer pressed his face against the pillow as gentle hands removed the straps keeping his hands tied to the bed. He wiped his eyes and looked at the doctor.
“Was I not in the world of living at some point, sir?” His logic mind told him that rape wasn't a likely cause of death but if he didn't remember wrongly his head was smashed rather forcibly against the tiles at some point.
The cold tiles of the white walls.
“You weren't dead if that's what you're asking.” The doctor had a look of gentle pity on his face without looking unprofessional. “You've merely been out cold for quite a long time.”
“Do I have a concussion?” He really wished his backside didn't hurt so much, that he couldn't turn to lie on his back. He felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable lying on his stomach like that.
“No. You did receive some rather bad trauma to your head though. But your brain should be perfectly fine.”
Spencer thought about that for a moment.
“What will happen next?” The doctor looked at him seriously.
“You will have to stay here until your wound have healed, then you'll return to your cell and life as it usually in here.”
“What about...” My molesters, those who assaulted me, the rapists. Spencer didn't want to give them the power by calling them any of those possibilities. “Those who did this to me?”
“I took the liberty to write down the names...” The doctor shuffled in his pockets until he pulled up a small piece of paper. He squinted his eyes when he read what it said. “Mr. Hankel, Melnikov, Pope, Romano and Whitney are at the moment in isolation where they will stay until further notice.” He looked at Spencer. “The will probably stay there until you're back on your feet and joining your fellow free men.” He chuckled. “Well, as free as you get as a prison inmate.” He turned to leave the room.
“Wait!” The doctor stopped. “Did you... did you run a rape kit?” Spencer wasn't sure what reply he hoped for.
“No,” the doctor said and Spencer felt the sudden urge to take deep calming breaths. “There weren't really much doubt of what happened to you and who did it so...” The doctor let the word trail at the look of vulnerability in Spencer's eyes. He went and rested against the edge of the vacant bed. “Listen Kid. We all expected this to happen. Yes it was rather fast but you're young, white and scrawny. You even have quite a handsome face.” He smiled melancholic. “You really should get yourself a man. Someone with enough power and influence to make the others stay away from you.” He paused with a thoughtful look. “Derek Morgan seems to be friendly set towards you.”
“Derek who?” Spencer acknowledged the logic of the doctor's reasoning but he didn't like the idea of committing completely to a stranger.
“Derek Morgan?” Spencer looked blank. “The man who alerted the guards?” Spencer shook his head. He hadn't really been able to look at the door when that happened. He hadn't actually known before now that the guards didn't arrive on their own initiative.
The doctor shrugged.
“You'll find out soon enough.”
He left Spencer alone in the room after patting his head a bit absentminded telling him that his wounds wasn't that bad and that he probably would be out in a weeks time.
Garcia was furious. He hadn't known Spencer for that long but he was so young and innocent and reminded Garcia of puppies and glitter and fluffy things. Happy things. And now he was in the infirmary healing after a bad rape.
“Conrad, you will talk to Prentiss about him and Black if you don't go to Morgan I will, and you know we're on good terms.”
“But G. he's white. He'll be more at home with the White Breads. We don't mix with other races...”
“I know that, but you KFC boys are highly respected and even feared by some.” Black couldn't help the smug smile. Conrad looked a bit offended.
“You know I'm right Conrad, and I'm just not sure that Prentiss' rumor and your otherwise friendly relationship with the other gangs is what our little puppy needs.”
Conrad nodded. He did know Garcia was right and now he just felt happy he wasn't the one being compared to a puppy.
I know it haven't been that long since my last letter, and I don't know if you have forgiven me yet. Even if you have not, which I understand completely, I want you to know, that I have had the cottage transferred into your name. It is yours to do with what you wish.