Febuwhump Day 3 – Imprisonment. Trigger warnings for police brutality and very vaguely eluded non-con
The cold plastic of the baton pressed against the bottom part of Leo's spine, right into the crook of his pelvic bone. "Straighten your back."
Unable to do anything else, he listened to the command and squared back his shoulder. It was hard no to feel the pinpricks rising on his naked skin at the chilly air circulating through this part of the prison. The man standing beside Leo, just as buckass naked and cradling the clothes they'd be given in front of his groin, let out a low sound – either scared or nervous. The guard focussed his attention on the man.
"You got any questions, prisoner?" he asked. The echo of his heavy footsteps reverberated off the walls as he walked around Leo, scraping leather boots against the tile floor. His eyes traveled the line they had been forced to stand in, five pieces of fresh meat for the other inmates to work their anger out on. But Leo had been in the system long enough.
Leo knew it was the police who had the most anger to get rid of.
"I didn't say nothing," the man said, his thick accent betraying a British heritage or maybe Ireland. He scowled, baring yellowed teeth at the officer in what he might have thought was a threatening display. A rookie then, first arrest and never served time before. He didn't know what an idiot he was being.
The officer's fist hit the man's stomach in a clean arch, making him double over and gasp for breath. He was on his knees in an instant, trying to inhale through the pain. "No backtalking, am I understood!" he spat. The man tried to nod but was barely able to accomplish as much, which did nothing to please the officer. "Answer me!"
"Y-yes sir," the man on his knees managed to hiss out from between clenched teeth.
Taking a step back, Leo could just tell the officer wasn't pleased. The pigs were predictable – and asserting their authority was part of their nature too. Leo was used to it, every time he was detained somewhere there had to be a show. A big display of dominance. But if you were good at blending in, you could at least avoid the worst of it.
Leo was never any good at blending in.
"What the fuck are you staring at!?" The officer was already getting in his face, assaulting him with his disgusting stench breath, a combination of stale coffee and too many cigarettes. Small droplets of spit hit Leo's cheek as he yelled.
Leo blinked and didn't balk. "Nothing, sir."
Narrowing his eyes, a small huff escaped the officer's lips, warm air against Leo's face. Then a punch hit him too, just below the ribs. Coughing horribly, Leo doubled over but didn't buckle. Not until the officer brought one knee up and smashed it into his face. Feeling the blood start pouring out of his nose only made the coughing fit worse and then Leo was on his knees as well.
The officer used the change in position to grab hold of Leo's hair, pulling his head back harshly, pinpricks of pain exploding all across his scalp. For a moment, he had never felt so vulnerable before. Naked, kneeling before a man who could beat the shit out of him and not pay any consequences for it.
Involuntarily, Leo's heart skipped an unpleasant beat, engraving the realization into his brain.
Then the officer pushed him away and released his hold, resuming his march down the line of convicts. "Take this to be the end of whatever pathetic lives you had outside these bars, and the start of your new one in here. With me." The officer's grin had a sickening implication to it.
They were all too smart to respond, but Leo bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, the irony flavor, and what was still pouring out of his broken nose.
He didn't care what it took, he sure as hell wasn't going to stick around to find out what that grin meant.
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