Chapter Text
"If you want an ounce then I get your ass." The man in front of Louis stated, dangling the baggie like an awful pendulum. He tried and failed to keep his dull nails from biting into the skin of his palm.
"But last time a blowie did it." Louis shook his head, desperate.
"Well that was last time and now I want your ass." Sam was a larger man and his dick tasted like shit. One of the prisoners 'gay for the stay' at Doncaster Correctional Facility. Louis knew for a fact that he didn't want Sam's dick in his body again, let alone in his ass.
He hadn't had to cross that line yet and didn't want to now.
So, he shook his head, "No. I'll give you a blow job."
"Listen here, junkie, I don't think you're in the position to be making demands." Sam growled, back handing Louis across the face, "Ass or nothing. You have forty-eight hours and then the offer expires."
Sam and his two goons wandered away, but not before one of the bald men who follow Sam everywhere faked it out like he was going to hit Louis. Laughing with a mouthful of meth teeth when the smaller man flinched.
"Fuck." Louis huffed, sliding down the wall of the prison laundry room. This was one of the only places left in the prison without adequate cameras leaving multiple blind spots including the one where Louis currently sat against the wall, head in his shaking hands.
He knew he wouldn't last. That buzz beneath his skin already building, his heart hammering in his chest.
He hadn't always been like this; he was born into a nice middle-class family. Went to a nice public school and made his way through almost two years of college before he met Olivia. She was a pretty girl who liked control and Louis was an easy-going boy who liked to give it to her. When she inevitably grew bored of Louis, she tried to leave and he begged her to stay.
When she showed up to his dorm room with cocaine he almost backed out. But she just raised her perfectly manicured eyebrow and threatened to leave again, so he did it. That's how every step down this path went, he could leave but he chose to stay.
No one to blame but himself.
At least the sex was good, that's what Olivia said anyways, he barely remembered it. She'd load him up on drugs, sometimes pills, cocaine, or meth, she always bought using her father's money and he'd get sluggish, slurring, docile.
She knew her limits, so it always seemed like she was just a step closer to sober than he'd ever be. She'd lean over him and ask him to debase himself and Louis would without hesitation. The words and the memories long gone but the feeling of humiliated submission brought color to his cheeks without warning.
He didn't know what was worse: the fact that he let it happen or the fact that in some sick way he still craved that feeling.
Drugs for Louis were an escape he never knew he needed. So after that first night he fell behind in his classes. His grades tanked and he lost his scholarship and more importantly his will to continue in school. He was kicked out of his dorm but that was ok because Olivia had an off-campus apartment.
She would go to class each day leaving Louis behind, she would giggle saying Louis was her housewife. He'd cook and clean and get high. His parents didn't even know he dropped out until he was supposed to graduate two years later, and he had to tell them not to bother coming to the ceremony. He went for Olivia though, dressed in a nice little suit and sat next to her parents.
After graduation, Olivia started a cushy job working at an accounting firm and didn't have time for their criminal activities anymore. She quit cold turkey and laughed in Louis' face when he couldn't, saying it was a lack of self-discipline. That's when she started to refer to him as her junkie deadbeat boyfriend and made him beg her to buy him high quality drugs. He could only afford some back-alley shit working his minimum wage job.
She liked when he begged, they always do.
Louis' misery was interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open again and the quick sound of steady feet. A taller man, with curly hair and a lean but muscular build appeared. He didn't seem to notice Louis sitting across from him as he slipped between two giant washers and accessed a vent.
The smaller man leaned his head over to see two huge bags, one looking like heroin, the other meth. Both of which the man slipped into his pants replacing the grate before turning to leave.
If Louis wasn't so strung out, desperate for a fix, he might have thought to hide but he didn't. Like a deer in headlights green eyes met blue for the first time, the larger man paused, staring at the man across from him, still silent on the ground, "Did you see that?"
Louis' eyes flickered between the grate and the man in front of him and he shook his head, "no."
The man rolled his dark green eyes, sneering, "Liar."
Louis shook his head again, stumbling over his words, "I-I-I..."
"Liar and a junkie." The man mumbled, a look of frustration growing on his face as he looked over Louis like it was so obvious. Anyone could tell he was a junkie just by looking at him. Maybe it was the dark circles under his eyes, or the way he always had that nervous look about him. Whatever it was brought a deep coat of red to Louis' cheeks and the smaller man just huffed, before green eyes continued, "Fucking perfect."
"Sorry." The word hung in the air, so small and inadequate the taller man didn't even acknowledge it.
"Tomlinson?" The man read his name tag, "What's your first name."
Louis shook his head, he was definitely about to have a hit out for him, "I won't tell anyone."
"First name?" The man growled, mouth set in a fine line.
"Louis." The man spared him one last look, walking back out, drugs in hand. There were big names in this prison, gangs, cartels, and crime families, they wouldn't want anyone knowing how they got their drugs in and they'd be willing to kill to keep that secret. The sinking feeling in his stomach steadied Louis' shaking hands, fuck.
"Tomlinson, you've had a cell reassignment." A particularly nasty guard everyone called Calypso stopped outside Louis' cell the next morning, "You have ten minutes to pack and move."
It came as no surprise, he'd been more on edge since that curly haired man left him sitting in the laundry room. Everyone that walked by started to look like an enemy, like large lurking shadows. He flinched at every noise that echoed around the stone building. Waiting for an inevitable death like a lamb to slaughter. He just didn't know when.
He was so fucking dead.
Louis rolled his bed up slow trying to think of a plan, maybe he could offer the guard some payment for protection. His mouth could work wonders, he's been told that by enough people to think it had to be true. Calypso looked like the type to accept bribes.
But he didn't even get his chance to offer before he arrived in front of his new cell—in the same block just a short walk away. The entrance was dark, and he paused before walking in, maybe the hitman that waited within would have the decency to wait until he was asleep to shank him.
"Are you coming in or are you gonna sleep in the doorway." The man from the laundry room asked, as Louis hovered near the door. His new cellmate.
Louis took a small step into the room—it felt too small, too dark, and the guard was already gone.
"I haven't told anyone." The words spilled from his lips soft and scared, the way predators like it. Something appeasing in the degradation of their prey.
"I'm sure you haven't." The man nodded towards the bottom bunk and Louis placed his stuff down, muttering, "You wouldn't be allowed to live if you did."
"You're not going to kill me?" Louis' voice quivered.
"I won't if you don't give me reason to." He explained, as if it were that easy.
"Ok." Louis gulped, he could be good, obedient, people liked that.
"When was your last fix?" The man asked and Louis felt his nerves settle, maybe the bigger man would keep him drugged up to keep him quiet. A small investment.
"A few days ago." Louis mumbled.
"Oh good." The man nodded again, "So you'll be through the worst of the withdrawals in less than a week."
"What?" Louis' eyes snapped up to the other man's face, now leaning near the entrance.
"You're getting clean." The man stated easily, like that was even an option after years of being strung out.
"I-I-I can't." Louis shook his head, coming to stand in front of the other man, "I can't quit."
"You can and you will." The larger man's tone was steely, even. This wasn't a debate.
"You can't make me." Louis shook his head, his finger twitching nervously at his side.
"How do you pay for your drugs, Louis." His name on the other man's lips felt oddly intimate, no one had called him that his entire time here. It was always Tomlinson or a slew of degrading nicknames.
"I work for them." The blush that settled on Louis' face the only indicator of his embarrassment, his eyes dropping to the ground as well.
His cellmate walked Louis back until he was against the wall, the other man had a few inches on him. Not to mention his shoulders out width Louis' own. The man's hand rose and Louis flinched waiting for an impact on his face but not finding one, instead it landed gently against his cheek. His hand large enough to splay across the entirety of the right side of Louis' face, his thumb pressing on Louis' bottom lip, "You work with your mouth or your ass."
"It doesn't matter how I earn it." Louis shook his head or tired but the grip on his face slid down to his chin, holding him still. Green eyes pressed his thumb in between Louis' plump lips, the pad pressing onto Louis dull bottom teeth, onto his tongue. Louis watched enchanted as green eyes darkened and focused on his entry point, the way his lips bowed around the other man's thumb.
"It does now." His cellmate hummed, "You are mine and no one would be dumb enough to try to use what's mine."
"No." Louis shook his head again, "I need it."
The man just quirked a humorless smile, "No you don't." His eyes lingered where his thumb slipped out of Louis' mouth, spit coating the tip before stepping away. Nodding to himself and leaving their cell, Louis was left to collapse onto the floor. Fuck.
The next morning Louis woke with the urge to vomit, barely making it to the toilet in their room before his dinner from the night before came back up. He shivered uncontrollably and sweat, as he hunched over the metal bowl. He didn't even hear the other man get up, flinching sharply when he saw a water bottle appear in his peripheral vision. The man nodded towards the commissary item and Louis' shook his head wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I can't pay you back." Louis stated and the man just rolled his eyes.
"Take it, Louis." Again, he used Louis' first name and it sat heavy in the smaller man's gut.
When one pm rolled around he searched out Sam in the usual spot, finding him already there.
"I'll take the deal." Louis nodded, fingernails scratching a little too hard over the skin on the bottom of his wrist, up to this elbow.
"The deal?" Sam played dumb, raising his eyebrows. A few of the thugs around him were smirking. Meth mouth even nudged his buddy, winking and sending a mocking kissy face.
"My ass for an ounce." Louis nodded, looking to where he knew Sam kept his stash hidden.
"Say it like you mean it." Sam nodded, a shit eating grin on his face. Louis shuddered, his fever getting higher, sweats even worse. He was about to hit a sobriety record soon.
"I want you to fuck me for an ounce."
Sam laughed, pinching Louis' cheek, "No can do, kiddo."
"What?! You said I had forty-eight hours!" Louis felt tears enter his eyes, "I need it."
"You had forty-eight hours when you were a free agent." He shrugged, "Now you belong to Styles and even I'm not dumb enough to fuck with him."
Styles, that must be the name of his new cellmate.
Apparently, he worked quickly spreading the news of his acquisition.
Louis' lips trembled with desolation, his body sore when he finally returned to his cell after going through all his plugs. Each denying him one after another, he stood in the doorway as Styles read a book on the bottom bunk, Louis' bed.
"Why?" Louis' voice trembled, nowhere near as strong as the anger he felt brewing in his chest.
"Hmmm?" The taller man asked, eyes flicking from his book to Louis' face.
"Why are you doing this?" Louis pressed his back against the wall, sliding down across from his roommate. Just a foot or two between them.
Styles finally put his book away, eyes flashed to Louis again before sitting up straight, his feet square on the floor, "Come here."
The man wanted Louis to crawl to him? To go down on him? Louis would, Olivia used to love that. That's how these people were; those who craved control.
Olivia went to answer the door what felt like hours ago to Louis' ketamine induced euphoria. Like his body floated in a soft pool of pillows but his mind was somewhere even better. He laughed to himself thinking about his childhood bed and the pillow he used to hug at night, with little bees all over it.
" What's he on?" A deep voice spoke from above him, to which he lazily tilted his head up to see a skinny man sitting on the couch.
"It's the K you gave me." Olivia giggled and Louis giggled too because Olivia's laugh was funny. Louis lifted his fingers and giggled at them too, they were tiny and wiggling.
"I told you that shit was strong." The man was named Kyle and he was one of Olivia's plugs, Louis knew that. Waving lazily at the man with a sloppy grin.
Louis didn't see or hear her reaction but then she was tilting Louis' head towards her, "Did you hear me, Lou?" Louis shook his head, he may have said something, but he couldn't be certain.
"I said I want you to suck Kyle's dick."
Louis giggled again, because that had to be a joke, but it wasn't and Louis did it. That part came in flashes, Kyle's grip in his hair. The hard floor against his knees. The sound of Olivia laughing, her hand on the back of Louis' neck.
Louis shook himself from that thought and clumsily got onto his knees and closed the distance between them. His cellmate's deep voice left no room for argument, so he sat kneeling with slumped shoulders between the larger man's thighs.
Again, Style's hand rose and landed softly against Louis' cheek over his ear and onto the side of his neck, "You ask why? Why would I do this?"
"You don't even know me." Louis muttered towards the ground, the man's fingers tighten not painfully but firmly at the nape of Louis' neck. Directing his face upward, his eyes meet the other mans.
"Maybe I'm altruistic?" Curly laughed when Louis shook his head. No truly altruistic man would be here.
"Maybe I just want what's best for you." The man asked and Louis shook his head again, then the other man's face fell serious, "Or maybe I want it so that if you ever come back here high, I'll know exactly where you got your fix."
Louis huffed, there it is, "I won't steal from you."
"You certainly won't if you're clean." The man nodded, with an easy smile.
"I can't." Louis sobbed into his hands, so pitiful sitting between the legs of a man he barely knew.
"You can and you will."
The first week of withdrawals was so bad Louis remembered why he hadn't been sober in years. His body quaked and he stayed in bed for a full forty eight hours, time all blurred together. He vaguely had a feeling his new cellmate held a water bottle to his lips and fed him crackers but that couldn't be true.
Once the worst of it was through, Louis found himself more sober than he can remember being in recent history but that didn't mean he was better.
He still itched for it, could feel a hum of desire under his skin like a constant vibration. Not to mention he was on edge all the time and a terrible sense of impending doom whenever he was out of his cell, so he stopped.
He stopped showering, eating, or anything else for days.
A shadow fell over Louis' bed where he sat picking at his blanket, Styles tilted his head to see Louis leaning against the wall, "You haven't eaten in days."
"'M not hungry." Louis shook his head, not meeting his cellmate's dark eyes.
"Bullshit."
"I just can't go down there." Louis admitted, picking at his nails now. A gasp of surprise escaped his lips when Styles gripped his ankle, pulling him to the side of the bed, finally getting a good look at the smaller man's face. All dark circles and pale skin.
"You scared?" The taller man mumbled, hand gently cupping Louis' chin, tilting his head until his neck ached to see him. His hands were just as warm and soft as the first time they met Louis' skin.
"Fuck you." Louis spat out much too soft to sound menacing at all, " 'm not scared."
"It's ok. Anxiety and paranoia are common symptoms of withdrawal."
"I just don't feel safe." Louis shook his head; he sounded like a kid. Who the fuck feels safe in prison?
Styles' hummed, his thumb brushing Louis' jaw, always with those dark and searching eyes, "I'll watch your back, come on."
There was no room for arguing, Curly hauled him up and walked them towards the mess hall, with a firm hand on the back of Louis' neck. He'd never admit it out loud, but it made him feel better, more secure. It was a giant red flag to everyone else though.
Louis Tomlinson was this man's bitch.
If Louis had any dignity left, after what he'd done to get his fix in here than it was lost when he allowed his cellmate to walk him to the mess like this.
The food sucked but Louis ate and ate until there was nothing left. When he finished, Styles wordlessly pushed his tray over and replaced Louis' empty one. The smaller man blushed but ate that tray too. He didn't feel bad, he knew the other man had commissary for days.
"Why?" Louis asked again, when he finished half the second tray.
"Why what?" The larger man asked, eyes stopping their constant scanning of the area to look at the smaller man before continuing.
"You didn't have to do this." Louis murmured.
"I did this to keep my supply chain safe." The man chanced a small smirk, "I'm a business man."
"I meant this. Bringing me to the mess." Louis blushed, "Getting me water when I was coming down."
"You remember that?" Dark eyes inspecting Louis' face for something.
"Barely." Louis shrugged, eyes now fixed on his hand playing with the food left on the tray, "I just don't get it."
The taller man's long fingers tapped the table while he thought before responding, "I'm not a bad guy, Louis."
Blue eyes searched out the other man's face, stoic as ever before nodding, "Ok." He could accept that answer for now.