Fear 1 By Tesa tesa@planet-mail.com DATE: May 11, 2001 RATING: NC-17 CATEGORY: Slash, M/SK, AU, rape DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, and Skinner belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Television. This is a not-for-profit fictional excursion. Thank you very much. SUMMARY: Okay, this is a little different. Definitely AU, Mulder finds himself thrown into prison and meets a powerful con named Walter Skinner. This first part is a bit grim, but trust Mulder—no one can resist him, right? FEEDBACK: Yes, please. ARCHIVE: Yes ************************************************* Mulder steeled himself not to respond to the heavy clang of the door behind him. He refused to give them the satisfaction, any of them. "Walk forward," the guard ordered. Mulder obeyed silently, keeping his eyes forward, his face impassive. His heart was beating too fast, his breath wanted to come in gasps, but he held it in. He had to be strong. He knew only too well what would happen if he didn't. The guard paced along behind him, footsteps echoing on the concrete. It had happened so fast. Too fast. One day he was living his life like normal—well, as normal as it ever was, and the next day he was in jail. Extortion. They had audiotapes that proved it, along with the testimony of the victim and the investigating officer. It was an open and shut case. Except for the fact that he hadn't done it. Well, he had, but he'd thought he was helping set up a sting. Yeah. He was helping set up a sting, all right—his own. "Stop," the guard ordered, and Mulder obeyed. The man stepped forward, opened the cell door and gestured. "There you go, Fibbie. Your new home. Enjoy." Mulder swallowed and entered the cell, standing still as yet another door clanged shut behind him, shutting him in, shutting him down. He dumped his armful of bedding, clothes, and personal items on the empty upper bunk and faced his new cellmate. A quick scan of the other man let him relax slightly. He was small, almost six inches shorter than Mulder and thinner, too. Ray Smith sat on his bunk, sprawled out, smirking at the new man. He knew who he was. Everyone did. It sure was going to be fun watching the other cons tear him up. He knew they would. The only real question was why wasn't the guy in protective custody? That was usually automatic for dirty cops like this one. Ray saw the man take a good look at him and lose some of the tension that stiffened his body, and he said, "Yeah, you don't have to worry about me, Fibbie. I'm on the bottom of the food chain around here, just like you. You ready to get eaten up?" Despite the huge rock of fear that had taken up residence in his gut, Mulder managed a quirk of his lips. "I think I've just been insulted. What makes you think I'm not a shark?" "You? A shark?" Ray guffawed. "Come on, man, I live here. I know what a shark looks like. You? I think you're a guppy. Or maybe even plankton." Mulder smiled and sighed and went about fixing his bunk. "I'm Mulder. The goldfish?" Ray laughed again. "Yeah, man, if you want to be a goldfish, you can be a goldfish. My name's Ray." He shook his head. This guy was dead meat, but he was funny. He could get a worse cellmate. Maybe he'd give him a couple pointers, help keep him alive. Maybe. The next few days Mulder started settling into his new life, his new routine. He kept his eyes open and his back to the wall, when he could. He stayed close to the guards and listened to Ray, who turned out to be a veritable fount of information about everyone and everything inside. He knew he was lucky there. They could have stuck him in with some seven-foot, three-hundred pound Bubba looking for a girlfriend. Actually, Ray was a girlfriend, so to speak. He…took care…of an inmate called Big Ben, one of the sharks, according to Ray anyway. Mulder had seen him, all six foot five, two hundred fifty pounds of him, and had steered clear, way clear. There weren't too many others around bigger than him, and Mulder knew if a guy like that took a fancy to him, there wasn't a lot he could do about it. So he kept clear. As each day passed that he escaped serious injury, Mulder became more and more nervous rather than less. He'd expected to have to fight for his life a lot sooner than this, and every day that went by with no action started to scare him more and more. He got that feeling that when it did happen it was going to be bad. He was right. They came for him in the shower. What a cliché, was his last coherent thought, as the first man connected with a right to his jaw. There were five of them, and they took turns beating him, mostly concentrating on his body, with only the occasional punishing blow to his head. They wanted him conscious, that was clear. He had landed a few of his own hits, but the surprise and then the overwhelming force soon stripped away his resistance, and he could only stand, then lie, and take it. Finally the beating stopped, and they all stood there, panting from the effort. Mulder laid still, body curled into a ball, trying to protect the more vulnerable areas. He was dazed, wondering what they were waiting for, and then he knew. Hands pulled and pushed him into position, and a big, hot, male body fitted itself between his legs, and Mulder felt a hard cock penetrate his ass in one hard thrust. He groaned into the hand covering his mouth, grunting as the man began fucking him, long and hard and deep. The pain was bad, but the sheer helplessness, the utter shame of not being able to stop this, that was worse. And he knew it was only the beginning. There were four more of them. Oh, God. The men standing around, waiting their turn, idly stroked themselves, enjoying the sight of the helpless Fibbie being ridden hard, taking in the sounds, the loud slap of flesh against flesh, the groans and exclamations of pleasure from the rider, and the grunts and muffled cries of pain from the man being ridden. The man fucking the Fibbie buried himself to the root and came hard, filling the man's ass with his hot semen, and he laughed in pleasure. "Take that, Mr. F.B.I. Take my come up your ass, and get used to it. You're gonna be my boy from now on, gonna bend over for me and the men here, gonna suck our cocks and beg for more." "Come on, man, it's my turn. Get offa him so I can mount the boy." The next man shoved the first man's shoulder. "Yeah, okay." He pulled out and moved aside, letting the second man mount the boy's ass with a hard lunge and a stifled scream from the boy. Mulder grunted in time with the thrusts tearing into his body, unable to help himself as the air was forced from his lungs rhythmically. It didn't hurt quite as bad this time. Maybe the first man's come had eased the way. Oh, God. He closed his eyes, trying to separate himself from what was happening. Come on, Mulder. You can do it. You know what to do. You've done it before. As the men took their turns, brutalizing Mulder's body, his mind shifted back, away from the pain and the shame and the dirtiness, and he dreamed. A long time passed before he came back. He lay on the floor of the shower room still. He was alone. His body ached and burned, and he idly wondered if he would die from the beating and what followed. Somehow he didn't think so. They wouldn't want to cut their pleasure short like that. He wondered if he should try to move, try to get some help, but it was too much for him to even contemplate. They'd find him sooner or later. It was a prison, after all. Surely they would notice he was missing? A smile twisted his lips. He thought that the guards already knew exactly where he was and what had happened to him. They didn't take to dirty cops anymore than the cons did, he knew. There would be no help there. They'd keep him alive, though. Probably. He drifted away again. He spent several days in the infirmary before they released him back to his cell, good as new. Sure. Mulder climbed onto his bunk, lying back gingerly. He'd been right. They hadn't damaged him too much. He was spectacularly bruised and sore as hell, but overall, they hadn't done any serious damage. Even his ass hadn't needed any surgery, for which he was damned thankful. "How ya doin', Mulder?" Ray finally asked. The man couldn't keep quiet for long. "They took the first bite, Ray." "Yeah, man, I heard. But you're still here, man. You're all right." "Yeah. I'm okay." There was a long silence. "Mulder?" "Hmm?" "You know…they'll do it again." Mulder took a deep breath. "I know." "You gotta hook up with a crew, Mulder." "Ray…what crew will take me? They all want their own bite of my ass." Ray didn't know what to say to that. It was true. Nobody was going to tolerate a cop. He tried to think what Mulder could do. Ray had been around, he knew how to survive, but he just didn't know what could save Mulder. He didn't know when he'd changed from anticipating his own enjoyment of watching the Fibbie get chewed up to dreading it, but it had. Unlikely as it was, he liked this guy. He was smart and funny and he never talked down to Ray, like a lot of guys did. And look at him now. He just got beat and fucked to kingdom come, and he knew it was going to happen again, and he just laid there, calm as anything. Well, he'd keep thinking. There had to be some way. "Mulder, how come you're not in P.C.? I mean, I know nobody wants to go that way, but, Jeez, if they're gonna kill your ass if you don't go, why don't you? Go, that is." "I can't, Ray. I…have some pretty powerful enemies. I think that's why they didn't put me in P.C. to start with, and they're not going to do it now. It's…punishment." "Oh." Ray didn't quite understand, except for the fact that there would be no help for Mulder, not from the guards. And certainly not from the other cons. They'd just step back and enjoy the show, like Ray had been planning to. "I'd help you, Mulder, but I ain't no fighter." "I know that, Ray, and thanks. I appreciate it. It helps that at least one person in here isn't looking forward to the next time I get taken down." "Yeah, man," came the soft agreement. They gave him a few days before they came for him again. It was worse. Different men. He spent more time in the infirmary. Stitches were required this time. He was attacked again the same day he got out of the infirmary and went right back in. Mulder shuffled into his cell and stood before the bunk, trying to get the strength to climb up, but he had the feeling it wasn't going to happen. Ray got up and silently moved his stuff to the upper bunk, making the bottom bunk up for Mulder. "Thanks, Ray." Mulder slowly lay back on the bunk. "No problem, man." He looked down at his cellmate. He was thinner now than when he'd come in. He was tired and drawn. His eyes were shut now, but earlier they'd been blank and…old, somehow. The Fibbie wasn't going to make it much longer. Ray got the impression that he really didn't want to, and he couldn't blame the guy. No sooner did he stand up now then he got knocked down and fucked up. Why should he keep getting up? "Ray." The voice was low and commanding, coming from the door. Ray turned to look, already knowing who it was. The big man. The boss. He ran their crew, and their crew ran the prison. No con had more power inside than this man. Walter Skinner. They called him Skin. There were all kinds of stories about why other than the obvious, but no one was brave enough to ask him. Or dumb enough. "Take a walk, Ray." The big man entered the cell, leaving the door clear. Ray swallowed. His man, Big Ben, worked for this man, and Ray wanted nothing more than to get out of there, but…he turned to look at Mulder. The man was sitting up, leaning on one hip, propped against the wall. "It's okay, Ray. Take off." Mulder nodded. Ray blinked, still reluctant, but he knew there was nothing he could say or do that would help Mulder now. "See ya, man." A moment later they were alone. Both men were silent. Skin was watching Mulder closely. Mulder had his eyes trained in the big man's direction, but they were vague, unfocused. He was waiting to get hurt, Skin realized. Skin walked closer until he stood next to the bunk, inches from Mulder. He reached out a hand and slid it around Mulder's neck, holding him through the reflexive flinch, but not tightening, not hurting. Slowly those dull eyes sharpened and flicked up to meet Skin's questioningly. "I'm not the type to dance around, Mulder, so I'll tell you what I want and why you'll give it to me." "I want your ass. Willingly. You give it to me, and I'll make sure no one else will take it." The offer was clear and straightforward. Skin waited for his answer. Mulder's breath hitched alarmingly. He closed his eyes, still feeling the big man's hand warm and somehow…gentle…grasping his neck. He was being asked to…agree…to his own rape. No, more than that. He was being asked to become this man's whore. Sex for protection. He thought about that. God help him, he thought about it. No more beatings. No more getting bent over and fucked in the shower room. No more…fear. In return---he'd lose all the self-respect he ever had. He was getting his ass kicked as it was, but at least he knew who and what he was and that they had to work for whatever they took. If he took this…bargain…he'd be giving it away. No. He opened his mouth, but Skin spoke before he could. Skin had seen the refusal building in the man's eyes and spoke up to forestall it. "Is it worth your life, Mulder? I can see you don't want to say yes, but you have to understand that if you don't take my protection, the attacks will go on and get worse and very soon, now, you'll die. I know you can see that." "You only have a few years in here, Mulder. Then you'll be free. Free to go anywhere, do anything you want. I doubt you'll ever see anyone from here ever again. You could probably make sure of that, if you cared about it. So is it worth it?" "Take my protection for the rest of your time here. Even if I get tired of you in my bed, you'll still have my protection. You have my word. I'm not into pain, Mulder. I won't hurt you, not anymore than I need to." Mulder felt the man's fingers slowly rubbing the tense muscles in his neck, and slowly relaxed. Skin wasn't hurting him. He sighed. Put that way, he had to admit that he was right. The attacks were getting worse. He was spending more and more time in the infirmary and less and less time out of it. One of those times they would get carried away and kill him. Or they would just out and out decide to do it. He didn't want to take anymore. He didn't know if he could. Skin was right again in that his ass wasn't worth his life. Looking at the situation objectively, he'd recommend this deal to anyone. Of course he wasn't looking at the situation objectively. This was his ass they were talking about. Skin said he wouldn't hurt him. More than necessary. No more beatings. He could get with that, anyway. But…he would have to…cooperate. If he agreed to this, he'd have to do more than just lie there and take it. Could he do that? Well. He guessed he would have to. All right, Mulder, you've decided. Stop procrastinating already. "All right. I'll do it." Skin smiled slowly, and his dick throbbed. His hand held Mulder's neck firmly as he pulled the man toward him. His voice was soft but unequivocal as he said "I know your ass can't stand a fuck right now, Mulder, so I'll let you suck me off instead. Show me you're worth my protection." One-handed, Skin pulled open his belt and pants roughly, freeing his cock with a sigh of relief. Mulder, off balance, braced his hands on Skin's thighs, trying unsuccessfully to pull back. All too soon he found himself eye to eye, so to speak, with the big man's erection. Abruptly the pressure stopped, and both men were motionless. This was it. A little sooner than he'd thought, but…Mulder sighed and opened his mouth. Dipping his head, he took Skin's dick in his mouth gingerly and experimentally flicked his tongue. The man hissed in pleasure and his hands went to cradle the back of Mulder's head. He didn't grasp and tug, just gently guided Mulder's head to the long, slow motion that he liked best. Mulder tried not to think as he licked and sucked as best he could. He wasn't going all out, but he wasn't just taking it, either. Hell, he'd agreed to the bargain. It didn't take long and the big man groaned and spurted hot semen into Mulder's mouth. His hands held Mulder's head still, forcing him to swallow. Several long, slow breaths later, the hands released him. "Thank you, Mulder. That was very good, for a first time. I'm sure you'll get better with practice. I look forward to it." His hand brushed through Mulder's hair. "Rest. Come with Ray to our table tonight at dinner. No one will touch you anymore, Mulder." It was a promise, and Mulder inhaled sharply, trying to keep a lid on the fear and the relief and the hope, the fucking hope that grabbed him and wouldn't let go. The taste of this man's semen lingered on his tongue, souring his stomach, and he knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was starting to believe that he'd live through this. Skin left. Mulder flopped back on the bunk, trying not to think anymore. It obviously didn't do him any good. It wasn't too long before Ray hesitantly made his way back into the cell. "Mulder? You okay?" There was a sigh. "Yeah, Ray. I'm okay." He didn't feel like getting into the discussion he saw coming, but he knew he couldn't avoid it. That didn't mean he had to volunteer, though, did it? "Mulder?" "Yeah." "What did he want?" Mulder swallowed. "Me." Ray opened his mouth to ask, puzzled, then he realized. "Oh. You need to go to the infirmary?" "No." "Mulder, come on, man, spit it out. What's going on?" Mulder had to laugh at that. Spit it out, right. Still smiling, he said, "Skin offered me his protection." Ray whistled. "Jeez, man. That's something, all right. You took him up on it, didn't you? I mean, you're not that stupid, are you?" Mulder said, "Yeah, I took him up on it. I'm supposed to come with you to their table tonight." He closed his eyes, trying to come to terms with it all. He'd just turned himself into a whore. Now he had to figure out how to live with it. The end part 1 Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/