Welcome Home: A TKO Timestamp
Title: Welcome Home
Author:Vamphile
Pairing: J2 (eventually)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1400+/-
Warning: Non-con, Violence
Summary Pre TKO, Jensen's introduction to prison life
A/N: You don’t need to read TKO to understand this.
Thanks to: passing_through and anifsemaj
Graphics by: Raeschae
Welcome Home
The loud metal clank of each door made him flinch. He wasn’t sure how it had come this far. Two months ago he’d tried to get some work done on the house and now here he was, in prison for forgery. Medium security, which just meant that the barbed wire wasn’t razor wire. The guards still had guns, he’s seen them.
He felt itchy and sick from processing. He wasn’t a fan of strangers touching him when he was naked, and certainly not like that, not that… intimately . Although their attitude wasn’t exactly intimate.
The guard yelled for him to stop and pushed him towards an open door. There was a skinny blond kid with a buzz cut in the room. “Welcome home.” And then the guard walked away, the door closing and clicking behind him and Jensen was stuck inside a small cell with a man he didn’t know and no idea what to do next.
The guy, Chip, kept talking at him, trying to give him survival tips. Jensen wanted to process them, he did, but he couldn’t. His stomach was churning, his body was shaking, the prison issue jeans with DOJ screened on in bright orange and the denim shirt with DOJ on the arm and back were uncomfortable but Jensen clung to them, even though they were too big. He didn’t think he’d ever be okay naked again, not here, not in public. The toilet was right there, attached to the sink. Chip climbed up to the top bunk and leaned his head over.
“Look, it’s a lot to take in and you’re obviously scared but you need to get over that. A kid like you, pretty, you need to find someone to take care of you. Look around and find someone quick or it’ll be ugly before it’s okay again.”
The lights dimmed and there was yelling and arguing and Jensen sat curled up in the back corner of the bottom bunk half listening to Chip’s delineation of groups and gangs. He cried because he had a feeling he might never be safe to show weakness again.
Jensen hadn’t closed his eyes except to blink when the doors opened in the morning. Chip dropped down from the bunk and tugged at his sleeve. “Let’s go, you want breakfast, right?”
Jensen nodded and followed the line of convicts, and that’s what he was, a prison convict. He bit the inside of his lip to avoid tearing up again and took his tray, following Chip, avoiding hands that reached out to grab him, trying to ignore the crude comments. There was no way any of these men would provide him any kind of protection. He squared his shoulders. He knew how to fight; he’d make it on his own.
After breakfast there wasn’t much to do. He didn’t have a job so he was pushed out to the yard where he got several hours a day but larger men were using and holding court on the equipment. He tried to be inconspicuous on the edge of a bleacher 'til someone pulled him down He landed on his feet and fought, throwing punches with an economy of motion and his full body’s strength behind him. He downed one man, but before he could finish off the second guy he was face first in the dirt under the bleachers being fucked raw and dry.
He cried out but that only got him pressed harder into the dirt while several men raped him and left him there. He hadn’t even had a chance to fight back. No one, not even the guards, moved to help him.
When it was safe, when the black spots in his vision receded a little, he pulled his jeans back up and stood. He could feel the wet slimy come on his ass and then realized he’d have to use the communal showers. He threw up and felt the world spin.
For a second time he picked himself up and by sheer force of will pushed past the roaring in his ears and made it through the day, ignoring the wet feeling every time he sat down or moved.
When he finally got to shower he saw the pink on the floor before it ran down the drain. He rinsed his thighs and realized it was more blood than anything, and because he was pondering that he let his guard down. Someone pushed him to the wall and more hands held him there as the burning and tearing continued, one after the other; it felt like they all took their turn. Jensen lost consciousness only to be brought back by the now cold water on his face and then the hands were gone and his knees wouldn’t support him.
When he woke up he was on his stomach in a white room with medical equipment behind Plexiglas. Infirmary. The doctor and guard asked him if he wanted to press charges but he shook his head.
“It took six stitches to get the bleeding to stop. You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’ll be in here for a couple of days.”
Jensen breathed a little easier at the reprieve.
For two days he slept a lot and moved slowly. He was covered in bruises and could only handle laying on his stomach or his left side. He felt exposed and even more so when the doctor checked his healing.
After three days they gave him another pair of jeans and his shirt which still had blood and dirt on it and sent him back.
The guard who led him didn’t say a word but when they went down the second set of steps he pushed him hard against the corner wall. Jensen couldn’t breathe. He looked up at the guard who was leering at him.
“Not now, sweetheart, but I’ll get a piece of you. They all will.”
He was deposited back in his bunk and Chip blew off the whole incident, his legs dangling over the side of the bed. “Happens sometimes. Hell I went to the infirmary three times before I could get something to use as lube, then things got better.”
Jensen refused to cry, refused to say anything. He stayed silent in the cacophony of the cafeteria. Desperately looking for somewhere to sit. A few men grabbed at him. One finding his dick and squeezing so hard he thought he’d fall, he didn’t. He hit him with his elbow right in the temple and walked on.
The next day he was attacked again, he was fighting his way out of it, a cut on his forehead dripping blood into his eye, His lip bleeding from where it had been punched into his teeth. He spit out the blood, wiped his mouth and looked in horror at the man currently facing him. Tall and broad and pure muscle.
He took his stance but the man cupped his face instead. “Pretty. You’re mine.”
Jensen raised his fists but the man ignored him. “I’ll keep you safe. You wanna be safe? Wanna belong to someone?”
And Jensen did, he really did, it was all he wanted. His stitches had already been torn, his body was shaking, he was lost and he let the man touch him.
A week later he was fighting again but this time he knew all he had to do was win this one fight against this one prisoner. He didn’t know why the fight was happening, what the offense was, just that he’d been sicced on the guy by Sig and if he won, he’d be rewarded and if he lost, he’d be ignored. Either way he’d be fucked, by Sig or someone else. But at least he was safe, even if he was never called by his name, only “pretty” or other names that don’t bear repeating but at least he’d live through the next three years.
Jensen woke with a start, Sig’s arms oppressively surrounding him, and the moldy bleachy smell of prison sheets filled his nostrils but when he inhaled he smelled fabric softener and then he turned. Not Sig, Jared. Not jail, Jared's place.
“Hey, you okay?”
Jensen nodded. “I am now.”
Author:Vamphile
Pairing: J2 (eventually)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1400+/-
Warning: Non-con, Violence
Summary Pre TKO, Jensen's introduction to prison life
A/N: You don’t need to read TKO to understand this.
Thanks to: passing_through and anifsemaj
Graphics by: Raeschae
Welcome Home
The loud metal clank of each door made him flinch. He wasn’t sure how it had come this far. Two months ago he’d tried to get some work done on the house and now here he was, in prison for forgery. Medium security, which just meant that the barbed wire wasn’t razor wire. The guards still had guns, he’s seen them.
He felt itchy and sick from processing. He wasn’t a fan of strangers touching him when he was naked, and certainly not like that, not that… intimately . Although their attitude wasn’t exactly intimate.
The guard yelled for him to stop and pushed him towards an open door. There was a skinny blond kid with a buzz cut in the room. “Welcome home.” And then the guard walked away, the door closing and clicking behind him and Jensen was stuck inside a small cell with a man he didn’t know and no idea what to do next.
The guy, Chip, kept talking at him, trying to give him survival tips. Jensen wanted to process them, he did, but he couldn’t. His stomach was churning, his body was shaking, the prison issue jeans with DOJ screened on in bright orange and the denim shirt with DOJ on the arm and back were uncomfortable but Jensen clung to them, even though they were too big. He didn’t think he’d ever be okay naked again, not here, not in public. The toilet was right there, attached to the sink. Chip climbed up to the top bunk and leaned his head over.
“Look, it’s a lot to take in and you’re obviously scared but you need to get over that. A kid like you, pretty, you need to find someone to take care of you. Look around and find someone quick or it’ll be ugly before it’s okay again.”
The lights dimmed and there was yelling and arguing and Jensen sat curled up in the back corner of the bottom bunk half listening to Chip’s delineation of groups and gangs. He cried because he had a feeling he might never be safe to show weakness again.
Jensen hadn’t closed his eyes except to blink when the doors opened in the morning. Chip dropped down from the bunk and tugged at his sleeve. “Let’s go, you want breakfast, right?”
Jensen nodded and followed the line of convicts, and that’s what he was, a prison convict. He bit the inside of his lip to avoid tearing up again and took his tray, following Chip, avoiding hands that reached out to grab him, trying to ignore the crude comments. There was no way any of these men would provide him any kind of protection. He squared his shoulders. He knew how to fight; he’d make it on his own.
After breakfast there wasn’t much to do. He didn’t have a job so he was pushed out to the yard where he got several hours a day but larger men were using and holding court on the equipment. He tried to be inconspicuous on the edge of a bleacher 'til someone pulled him down He landed on his feet and fought, throwing punches with an economy of motion and his full body’s strength behind him. He downed one man, but before he could finish off the second guy he was face first in the dirt under the bleachers being fucked raw and dry.
He cried out but that only got him pressed harder into the dirt while several men raped him and left him there. He hadn’t even had a chance to fight back. No one, not even the guards, moved to help him.
When it was safe, when the black spots in his vision receded a little, he pulled his jeans back up and stood. He could feel the wet slimy come on his ass and then realized he’d have to use the communal showers. He threw up and felt the world spin.
For a second time he picked himself up and by sheer force of will pushed past the roaring in his ears and made it through the day, ignoring the wet feeling every time he sat down or moved.
When he finally got to shower he saw the pink on the floor before it ran down the drain. He rinsed his thighs and realized it was more blood than anything, and because he was pondering that he let his guard down. Someone pushed him to the wall and more hands held him there as the burning and tearing continued, one after the other; it felt like they all took their turn. Jensen lost consciousness only to be brought back by the now cold water on his face and then the hands were gone and his knees wouldn’t support him.
When he woke up he was on his stomach in a white room with medical equipment behind Plexiglas. Infirmary. The doctor and guard asked him if he wanted to press charges but he shook his head.
“It took six stitches to get the bleeding to stop. You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’ll be in here for a couple of days.”
Jensen breathed a little easier at the reprieve.
For two days he slept a lot and moved slowly. He was covered in bruises and could only handle laying on his stomach or his left side. He felt exposed and even more so when the doctor checked his healing.
After three days they gave him another pair of jeans and his shirt which still had blood and dirt on it and sent him back.
The guard who led him didn’t say a word but when they went down the second set of steps he pushed him hard against the corner wall. Jensen couldn’t breathe. He looked up at the guard who was leering at him.
“Not now, sweetheart, but I’ll get a piece of you. They all will.”
He was deposited back in his bunk and Chip blew off the whole incident, his legs dangling over the side of the bed. “Happens sometimes. Hell I went to the infirmary three times before I could get something to use as lube, then things got better.”
Jensen refused to cry, refused to say anything. He stayed silent in the cacophony of the cafeteria. Desperately looking for somewhere to sit. A few men grabbed at him. One finding his dick and squeezing so hard he thought he’d fall, he didn’t. He hit him with his elbow right in the temple and walked on.
The next day he was attacked again, he was fighting his way out of it, a cut on his forehead dripping blood into his eye, His lip bleeding from where it had been punched into his teeth. He spit out the blood, wiped his mouth and looked in horror at the man currently facing him. Tall and broad and pure muscle.
He took his stance but the man cupped his face instead. “Pretty. You’re mine.”
Jensen raised his fists but the man ignored him. “I’ll keep you safe. You wanna be safe? Wanna belong to someone?”
And Jensen did, he really did, it was all he wanted. His stitches had already been torn, his body was shaking, he was lost and he let the man touch him.
A week later he was fighting again but this time he knew all he had to do was win this one fight against this one prisoner. He didn’t know why the fight was happening, what the offense was, just that he’d been sicced on the guy by Sig and if he won, he’d be rewarded and if he lost, he’d be ignored. Either way he’d be fucked, by Sig or someone else. But at least he was safe, even if he was never called by his name, only “pretty” or other names that don’t bear repeating but at least he’d live through the next three years.
Jensen woke with a start, Sig’s arms oppressively surrounding him, and the moldy bleachy smell of prison sheets filled his nostrils but when he inhaled he smelled fabric softener and then he turned. Not Sig, Jared. Not jail, Jared's place.
“Hey, you okay?”
Jensen nodded. “I am now.”