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Warning: dubious consent

The Lines Got Gray

by eggy

"Adebisi - he thinks he's so much badder because he's so fucking black, because he's a fucking African. Probably killed lions back in the jungle or some shit."

Poet chuckles and snorts powder off of his hand. "Better not let him catch you talking like that," he says, wiping his nose.

"Man, fuck that nigger."

Kenny feels a chill wind its way up his spine a split-second before Poet's eyes go wide and he takes a nervous step back. With a sense of foreboding, Kenny turns around to see Adebisi looming in the doorway of the classroom he and Poet have been using to get high. His arms are crossed over his broad chest and he chews lazily on a toothpick. Adebisi's lip curls in a sneer and he jerks his head towards the rec area. "Shower, Kenny," he says.

Kenny bristles at the order, but he can't disobey, not in front of Poet, not with the whites of Adebisi's eyes red and dangerous. "What-the-fuck-ever," he bites out as he squeezes past Adebisi, who laughs and smacks his ass. Seething, Kenny walks with as much dignity and attitude as he can muster to their pod to get a towel. He knows he's imagining it, but he feels like every inmate in Em City is looking at him and laughing because they know he's about to get fucked.

Kenny is scrubbing his arms when Adebisi joins him. He rubs harder circles on his skin, trying not to glance at Adebisi's crotch. If Adebisi is already hard, he'll just fuck him; if he's not, Kenny will have to get on his knees.

Catching the tension in Kenny's stance, Adebisi reaches over and strokes a lingering caress over Kenny's arm. "I don't think I'll fuck you now, Kenny," Adebisi drawls, turning up his shower spray. "Later maybe."

Kenny knows Adebisi does this on purpose. It'll make him jumpy and on-edge the rest of the day and Adebisi will have a good chuckle to himself before he finally sticks his dick into him. His skin prickles with dread and anticipation every time someone brushes against him while he's on work detail. It's not completely unlike arousal, however torturous it is, and it makes him think of going to clubs with his girl before she was his wife and grinding with her on the dance floor, knowing she didn't have any panties on beneath her mini-skirt, knowing he was going to fuck her hard later. It's like that, only instead of getting an erection, he wants to throw up.

He begs some smack off Poet before they're locked in their cages for the night. There's no way he can sit in his pod, waiting for the lights to go out, knowing that Adebisi is going to prag him out. It's a bitter pill; he was running shit before Adebisi came back from the psych ward and now he's on the bottom rung of the ladder.

He snorts enough powder that he can only stare dumbly at Adebisi when he comes in, a bright red piece of cloth pulled taut between his hands. "Stand up," Adebisi barks. Kenny obeys with wobbly limbs, facing the bunks and grasping the top rail to keep himself on his feet. He expects Adebisi to tie his hands, but the cloth is drawn around his waist and Adebisi grins and says, "Take a deep breath."

"What the fuck?" he wheezes as Adebisi deftly ties a tight knot at Kenny's spine. It hurts his ribs when he tries to exhale and he shakes a little. Adebisi pushes him towards the corner of the pod, out of sight between the bunks and the wall. In perfect timing, as though Adebisi controls all the ins and outs of Oz, Em City falls into darkness.

Already hazy with drugs, the pressure around his middle only makes it harder for Kenny to think straight. "Pretty Kenny." He shudders away from the words, but Adebisi's hands are firm on his hips, the familiar weight of his cock against the cleft of Kenny's ass. "I'd like to put a wig on you," Adebisi muses to himself. "What you say, Kenny," Adebisi croons. His eyes and hands run critically down Kenny's body. "Want to dress up like a pretty girl for me?" Kenny can't yell or snarl or speak, can only take tiny, sipping breaths, tense and still in Adebisi's hold.

He hears Adebisi slicking something onto his cock and he supposes he should be grateful but his mind skitters away at the thought of thanking that bastard for anything he does to him. Without further ado, Adebisi lines himself up and presses smoothly inside of him. A wail withers and dies in Kenny's throat when he can't draw enough breath in to give it voice. Adebisi laughs and angles in deeper.

"Not going to scream for me?" Adebisi's voice is low and hot against his ear. "Not so tight anymore, eh, Kenny? You're getting used to this."

"Fuck you," Kenny huffs. It sounds weak and faraway and he chokes trying to gather the strength to say more. His sweaty palms press against the pod wall and his head hangs between his shoulders. He tries to let his mind curl in on itself, escaping the fucking he's getting, but it doesn't work like usual. Instead it's cataloguing the feel of Adebisi's cock--warm and twitching and alive inside of him and when he glances down Kenny sees with a sense of dread that his own cock is stirring.

Shallow breaths ghost damply on the concrete wall. He prays that Adebisi doesn't notice his erection, but he knows he's out of luck when Adebisi lets out a full-throated guffaw. He thrusts deliberately against the spot that makes Kenny groan and shiver helplessly. He doesn't know why it exists other than to let Adebisi taunt him.

Adebisi tugs at the cloth around Kenny's waist, making him bend over further. The short, sharp jerks of his hips mean that he's close to coming and Kenny is glad because the lack of oxygen, the fear of it is making his vision blur and go black. His skin feels pinched and rubbed raw beneath the cinched fabric.

Groaning, Adebisi presses himself flush to Kenny's backside and he comes hard inside of him. The feel of it is still alien to Kenny, the wet rush of warmth and Kenny's cock gives another feeble pulse. Adebisi pulls his softening cock out and Kenny is stretched and used and still high and hard and just as humiliated as Adebisi wants him to be.

"Take care of that." Adebisi says over his shoulder, washing up at the sink. Gritting his teeth, Kenny fists his cock roughly. Adebisi does this just to drive his point home and as much as he hates Adebisi for it, Kenny needs this bit of satisfaction. He rubs his thumb over the sensitive spot below the head and he closes his eyes and pretends Adebisi isn't here, that he's somewhere far away and he comes all over his hand and the already dirty wall.

It takes all the concentration he can muster to reach behind him and pull ineffectively at the knot. "Leave it," Adebisi says, crawling onto the top bunk. Kenny whimpers a little in frustration, but he's too tired and weak to protest and he collapses face first onto the mattress. He knows he will have a ring of angry purple bruises around his waist in the morning. He knows Adebisi will laugh and prod at them with his fingers or with kitchen utensils. He knows this will be his life for the next five to twenty years unless something happens. Thankfully, he thinks, half-unconscious, the tides in Oz are quick to change. His final coherent thought before passing out into uneasy, fretful sleep is that he hopes he's the one who finally gets to stick the shank in Adebisi's heart.

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