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Water Pressure
folder
M through R › Prison Break
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,107
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Prison Break
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,107
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Prison Break, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Water Pressure
AAN//: Written on a whim for my beautiful beta, who insists it's awesome. We'll see 'bout that.
Water Pressure
Hot water forced it’s way out of the shower head, splashing down the chest of lean man standing stationary, fighting the urge to moan at the sensation. He settled for letting out a soft sigh, head lolling forward as the steam rose and clung, making the air thick and harder to breathe. A smile played across Theodore Bagwell’s lips, who silently praised the shower. Who would think he’d miss something as simple as water pressure? In Fox River though, you worked with what you were given-which was never very much. It was damn near impossible to wash blood and dirt off under the shower head in that place, or any other incriminating evidence for that matter.
This place however, had excellent water pressure, as promised. The hard spray of water over his back forced out the moan T-Bag had been trying to hold in, his eyes slipping shut and his guard going with it. It was a very stupid thing to do, even if he was completely alone, but after years of the same shitty facilities, it was as close to Heaven as he’d ever get. Grabbing the fragrant blue bar of soap, the brown eyed man mused over the past, the showers before this one, desperately scrubbing at sin soaking into his skin, tainting it a pinkish color.
It lead the murderer back to Maytag’s first shower at Fox River, and the jumpy way he’d looked around, tried to hide his body, scrubbed up as quickly as possible with the pathetic excuse for soap he’d been given. T-Bag purred as the images replayed across his closed eyes, working soap into his skin and washing away the recent film of filth covering him. Maytag had been different, cocky even after taking hold of his pocket. Still, he remained the same way every shower, nervous, watching, quick. A frightened bunny rabbit in a room full of rabid wolves, even though he’d been promised none of them would hurt him.
Finally, that soapy hand made it’s way between his legs as the story played out behind T-Bag’s eyes. Slow strokes at first, remembering Maytag’s wide blue eyes when he’d sauntered over with all his usual pride and confidence. A little faster as the memories strung along, other inmates filing out as they saw what was going to unfold. Maytag, sinking to his knees uneasily, trembling in the shame he’d pushed down before, being quietly molested in their cell. The blood sliding down the cracked tile when T-Bag slammed his head against the wall, gripping his hair tightly. Maytag’s shamed cry at being ripped from the floor and forced against the same wall he’d cracked his head on.
T-Bag tugged faster under the hot spray as he remembered what came next. Buried inside the boy, slick bodies sliding together, Maytag’s cries of pain. The way he went completely silent when T-Bag’s hands wrapped around his neck and squeezed, feeling the flesh bruise and pulse under his grip. Feeling Maytag contract in fear and seeing his wide, impossibly blue eyes stricken with confusion and utter terror. Choking the boy until he passed out cold, stilling and grunting as he came. Leaving his motionless body under the cold, pathetic spray.
T-Bag bit his knuckle and jerked his hips forward as he brought himself off, brown eyes opening slowly. He watched the evidence slide down the drain and from existence, a satisfied smirk playing about his lips. Only a few more moments-as much as he’d liked to have stayed longer-and he shut the shower off, stretching heat-reddened limbs as the man stepped out.
Grabbing some fresh clothes, he dressed quickly. Tutting as he left the bathroom, T-Bag stepped over her lifeless body. He really might’ve put it in a better place. Looking at the lifeless blue eyes, still wide open just like he’d left them, he smirked wider.
T-Bag's eyes fell on him next. He wasn’t that much older than Maytag, but he certainly wasn’t as bright. All that struggling he’d done had only made him bleed out faster.
Stepping over the cooled corpse, careful to avoid getting any blood on himself, T-Bag went for the door. He stopped when a reflection of light caught his eye. On the mantel there was a picture of a bright smile and brilliant wide eyes, hopeful and wild. Unable to resist, he grabbed the picture and genuinely smiled, slipping it from the frame and pocketing it. Taking one last look around, T-Bag cocked a sated eyebrow and walked out the back door, humming a tune he wasn’t even sure he recognized.
~
“In unrelated news, police discovered the body of local woman Jennifer Buchanan, who was found murdered and raped along with her son, Jacob, earlier this afternoon. Fingerprints found at the scene point to Theodore Bagwell, one of the infamous Fox River Eight, being the perpetrator. Bagwell escaped from prison a little more than three weeks ago, eluding authorities since. Police say the only connection between Bagwell and Buchanan was her second son, Jason, who shared a cell with the convicted murderer in Fox River. Jason was killed in a riot prior to Bagwell’s escape, which may or may not have been by the hands of his cellmate.” The dark haired anchor woman shuffled papers in front of her importantly.
“Upon further investigation it was found that the only item missing from the household was a picture of Jason before his incarceration at Fox River. He had been found guilty for the double homicide of his girlfriend Donnie Conifer and a mutual friend, Derek Sampson.” She coughed and gave a number to call for information and private tips on Bagwell’s location before moving along to the next story.
Owarii
~