My Desirable Prison
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
18,336
Reviews:
141
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
18,336
Reviews:
141
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter 2
Disclaimer: This is an original story. It’s all mine. Which might not be a good thing. Don’t steal it.
Warning: This story contains hot man on man action. If you like it, please leave now.
Dannigurl: This story was originally meant to be between a man and a woman but I changed it to slash. I hope I made the right decision.
//...// means thought.
Jesse’s Physical appearance:
Height: 5’8
Weight: Unknown
Build: Slender, muscles closely resemble those of a swimmer
Hair: Black, spiked
Eyes: Green, big and round.
Lips: pink and full
Face: Angular, high cheekbones.
Scar above left eye.
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Chapter 2:
@@@@@@@@@@@@
Jesse tried not to let panic get the best of him. It wasn’t like this was the first time he was in this kind of situation and it probably wouldn’t be the last either. But this time was different. He was the one at fault this time and it wasn’t the normal petty shit either but that mattered little now.
//Wonder how I’m going to get out of this?// He tugged experimentally on the cold steel bracelets encircling his wrists. He knew it was hopeless but it still was worth a try. With a sigh, he let the familiar sound of his rights being read wash over him before he was shoved, rather roughly he might add, into the awaiting police car.
He couldn’t believe his luck or lack of it. He had just scored more loot than he had hoped for but he wouldn’t get to collect it. That’s just fucking bullshit. As the car headed down the familiar route to the precinct, Jesse thought about the man that tackled him. The man was strong, muscular but not the body builder type. He had long hair and a voice that had Jesse hard in seconds flat. Wonder who he was. Probably one of the guys that were always fucking when they thought no one was looking. I wouldn’t mind being fucked him. Not at all. The man had held him down, even he had tried to break free from his grasp. He had laid flat on his stomach until the police had arrived. They had taken him away so quickly; he didn’t get a chance to see what his captor had looked liked. Not that it mattered, he got the feeling he would be spending the next few months in jail.
+++++++++++
20 minutes later….
+++++++++++
The station was the same since the last time he was in there, which happened to be about two weeks ago. The walls were in desperate need of painting, the noise level was almost excruciating and the smell of stale, four day old coffee and equally stale donuts hung in the air. //What the fuck was it about cops, with their coffee and donuts?//
The door swung open just as Jesse was about to ponder over the truly puzzling question. Here comes the macho, truly played out good cop, bad cop routine flashed through Jesse’s mind when his old ‘chum’, New York’s finest, Chief Durkheim strolled into the interrogation room or as he fondly referred to it as his home, followed by Officer Jacobs.
Chief Durkheim was a forty-five year old man that wore clothes that were only found in 1950’s horror movies. He had a large stomach that stood six feet away from the rest of his body and always overlapped the waist of his pants. His hair, what little he had, was gray, speckled with a few strands of black hair. He stood at about an even 6 ft and had dull blue eyes that seemed to blaze whenever Jesse enraged him. Jesse just had that type of affect on him.
He hated Jesse and not for the usual punk kid gone bad reasons. Oh no. He hated Jesse because his wife, who is twenty-four, wanted to fuck Jesse into oblivion. Needless to say, Durkheim was the bad cop and hated Jesse’s guts.
On the other hand, Officer Jacobs was the complete opposite. He liked Jesse, knew the reason why Jesse frequented the station about as often as he took a piss. Jacobs was a balding man in his fifties, with a friendly smile and an easygoing personality. He was one of the few people that didn’t get their jollies from getting on Jesse’s case.
“Jesse, Jesse, Jesse.” Durkheim started dramatically.
“Durkie, Durkie, Durkie” Jesse mimicked; letting a soft smile grace his lips after seeing Jacobs roll his eyes at his antics.
Blatantly ignoring the taunt, he continued, “Why am I not surprised to see you again so soon?”
“Why Durkie! One would think that you aren’t pleased to see me! By the way, how is that delectable wife of yours?”
“Why you little fu - !” Jesse had just enough time to pull back before Durkheim could throw his considerable girth across the stainless steel table.
“Chief! Calm down! Don’t let him get to you. Jesse, I suggest that you show some respect and stop running off at the goddamn mouth!” Said Jacobs. Jesse snorted to show just how much respect he had for Durkheim but kept his mouth shut.
“Good one, Jesse. Using my wife as a way to get me angry. Ha ha, it almost worked too.” Jesse just raised an eyebrow and smirked at this but still he refrained from making a comment.
“You won’t be smirking for long. You and your buddy messed up big time. In fact, I don’t think that you could land yourself in more trouble even if you tried.”
So far Jacobs had been, for the most part anyway, quiet and unconcerned. Now he just looked worried, if the frown on his face was any indication. If Jacobs was worried, then Jesse needed to be worried too. But seriously! How bad could it be? A few nights in jail, nothing that he couldn’t handle. Right?
He knew he had taken a huge risk when he had attempted to rob that house. Hell all he knew was that it was some rich guy that lived there. He’d never seen him and he’d barely heard about him when some chick was talking about how stinking rich he was. He remembered the guy’s name was Allan something or other. He really didn’t give a flying fuck. He didn’t get the chance to stay in the know as to who was the cream of the crop in the social world. Being constantly broke and homeless did that to you.
The point is that he hadn’t intended to get caught. He certainly hadn’t planned on getting double-crossed by that shit for brains son of a bitch Jimbo. Now that fucking piece of rotting gonads got away with most of the loot and had allowed Jesse to get caught.
Reigning in his anger, Jesse tried to refocus on what the lard-ass was saying. “You’re going to pay this time you useless piece of shit! And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it!”
Figuring that he couldn’t get into more trouble than he already was in so, he started to deliberately tried to rile Durkheim up. “Durkheim, calm down man. I get what you’re saying but you’re getting too excited. Before we move on, I have a question for you. Since when has shit even been useful? I mean, manure if useful. Fertilizing the soil and shit but did you want to call me manure? Cause if you did I can understand. What I don’t understand is why you’re being so harsh on me. I’ve got to say that I’ve had a very emotional night. Imagine being arrested on false pretenses. And you don’t even care. I wonder…could this anger spring from trouble in paradise? Is wifey looking for another monkey to climb her tree? Has she been nibbling on someone else’s banana?”
Jacobs glanced worriedly at the vein pulsating strongly at the chief’s temple. He turned back to Jesse, giving him a look that pretty much said ‘Knock it off before I knock you out.’ // ‘What is it with him? Does he enjoy getting into trouble? I don’t understand him. He looks so happy when he does this…the way his eyes light up and how they crinkle at the sides when he laughs, the way his pink lips tip slightly on the right side when he smirked or how he always darted his tongue across his lips when they are parched…’//
“You think you’re real smart ass. Well, let’s see if you’ll get a laugh out of this. Apparently, you chose a bad night to try to rob that house because it was the same night that its owner returned. To say that he is unhappy would be an understatement. He suggested, well since we’re all friends here, I suggested that he should do something a bit more extreme than press charges. I mean that’s the only way that a troubled young man such as yourself will learn, right?” Durkheim concluded, a slightly sinister smile on his lips.
“A bit more extreme?” Jesse asked warily. He really didn’t like the look Durkheim was giving him.
“Yes, well I was thoughtful enough to tell him your truly miraculous story of survival. No, no it’s okay. You can thank me later.” He said when Jesse was about to interrupt and you can bet it was not anything even remotely close to gratitude.
“I was sure to tell him that this wasn’t your first offense, that you’re practically homeless and a very troubled young man. Now it is with delight that I tell you that you are now under the ‘loving’ care of our resident billionaire, Aidan Scott.”
“WWHHHAAAAAAAAAAATTT? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! You can’t just hand me off to some random stranger, no matter how fucking rich he is!” Jesse screamed.
“Of course I can and I just did. Now I suggest you lower your fucking voice and watch your tone.”
Jesse swallowed his rage and disbelief long enough to speak quietly, almost pleadingly. “Come on Chief, this is wrong. It’s wrong on so many levels; it goes against every moral out there. Where are your morals Chief?”
“With you Jesse, I have none. I’d say pack your bags but from the looks and smell of things, I’d say that you’re wearing everything you own.” Durkheim said, his tone condescending.
“Not everything. I ain’t wearing your wife right?” Jesse said, his attempt at being calm over.
Before Durkheim could retort, a rookie entered the room. “Hey Chief! The kid’s ride is here.”
“Well, Jesse boy. Time to go to your new home.” Fatzilla said, a purely sinister smile on his face.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
END CHAPTER 2
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A/N: Thanks for reading this story once again. Please keep reviewing and allowing me to know what you think. Sorry about any grammatical errors. I think I might have changed Aidan’s name….if I did, sorry for the confusion…..it is now Aidan Scott. Thanks and peace out!
Warning: This story contains hot man on man action. If you like it, please leave now.
Dannigurl: This story was originally meant to be between a man and a woman but I changed it to slash. I hope I made the right decision.
//...// means thought.
Jesse’s Physical appearance:
Height: 5’8
Weight: Unknown
Build: Slender, muscles closely resemble those of a swimmer
Hair: Black, spiked
Eyes: Green, big and round.
Lips: pink and full
Face: Angular, high cheekbones.
Scar above left eye.
@@@@@@@@@
Chapter 2:
@@@@@@@@@@@@
Jesse tried not to let panic get the best of him. It wasn’t like this was the first time he was in this kind of situation and it probably wouldn’t be the last either. But this time was different. He was the one at fault this time and it wasn’t the normal petty shit either but that mattered little now.
//Wonder how I’m going to get out of this?// He tugged experimentally on the cold steel bracelets encircling his wrists. He knew it was hopeless but it still was worth a try. With a sigh, he let the familiar sound of his rights being read wash over him before he was shoved, rather roughly he might add, into the awaiting police car.
He couldn’t believe his luck or lack of it. He had just scored more loot than he had hoped for but he wouldn’t get to collect it. That’s just fucking bullshit. As the car headed down the familiar route to the precinct, Jesse thought about the man that tackled him. The man was strong, muscular but not the body builder type. He had long hair and a voice that had Jesse hard in seconds flat. Wonder who he was. Probably one of the guys that were always fucking when they thought no one was looking. I wouldn’t mind being fucked him. Not at all. The man had held him down, even he had tried to break free from his grasp. He had laid flat on his stomach until the police had arrived. They had taken him away so quickly; he didn’t get a chance to see what his captor had looked liked. Not that it mattered, he got the feeling he would be spending the next few months in jail.
+++++++++++
20 minutes later….
+++++++++++
The station was the same since the last time he was in there, which happened to be about two weeks ago. The walls were in desperate need of painting, the noise level was almost excruciating and the smell of stale, four day old coffee and equally stale donuts hung in the air. //What the fuck was it about cops, with their coffee and donuts?//
The door swung open just as Jesse was about to ponder over the truly puzzling question. Here comes the macho, truly played out good cop, bad cop routine flashed through Jesse’s mind when his old ‘chum’, New York’s finest, Chief Durkheim strolled into the interrogation room or as he fondly referred to it as his home, followed by Officer Jacobs.
Chief Durkheim was a forty-five year old man that wore clothes that were only found in 1950’s horror movies. He had a large stomach that stood six feet away from the rest of his body and always overlapped the waist of his pants. His hair, what little he had, was gray, speckled with a few strands of black hair. He stood at about an even 6 ft and had dull blue eyes that seemed to blaze whenever Jesse enraged him. Jesse just had that type of affect on him.
He hated Jesse and not for the usual punk kid gone bad reasons. Oh no. He hated Jesse because his wife, who is twenty-four, wanted to fuck Jesse into oblivion. Needless to say, Durkheim was the bad cop and hated Jesse’s guts.
On the other hand, Officer Jacobs was the complete opposite. He liked Jesse, knew the reason why Jesse frequented the station about as often as he took a piss. Jacobs was a balding man in his fifties, with a friendly smile and an easygoing personality. He was one of the few people that didn’t get their jollies from getting on Jesse’s case.
“Jesse, Jesse, Jesse.” Durkheim started dramatically.
“Durkie, Durkie, Durkie” Jesse mimicked; letting a soft smile grace his lips after seeing Jacobs roll his eyes at his antics.
Blatantly ignoring the taunt, he continued, “Why am I not surprised to see you again so soon?”
“Why Durkie! One would think that you aren’t pleased to see me! By the way, how is that delectable wife of yours?”
“Why you little fu - !” Jesse had just enough time to pull back before Durkheim could throw his considerable girth across the stainless steel table.
“Chief! Calm down! Don’t let him get to you. Jesse, I suggest that you show some respect and stop running off at the goddamn mouth!” Said Jacobs. Jesse snorted to show just how much respect he had for Durkheim but kept his mouth shut.
“Good one, Jesse. Using my wife as a way to get me angry. Ha ha, it almost worked too.” Jesse just raised an eyebrow and smirked at this but still he refrained from making a comment.
“You won’t be smirking for long. You and your buddy messed up big time. In fact, I don’t think that you could land yourself in more trouble even if you tried.”
So far Jacobs had been, for the most part anyway, quiet and unconcerned. Now he just looked worried, if the frown on his face was any indication. If Jacobs was worried, then Jesse needed to be worried too. But seriously! How bad could it be? A few nights in jail, nothing that he couldn’t handle. Right?
He knew he had taken a huge risk when he had attempted to rob that house. Hell all he knew was that it was some rich guy that lived there. He’d never seen him and he’d barely heard about him when some chick was talking about how stinking rich he was. He remembered the guy’s name was Allan something or other. He really didn’t give a flying fuck. He didn’t get the chance to stay in the know as to who was the cream of the crop in the social world. Being constantly broke and homeless did that to you.
The point is that he hadn’t intended to get caught. He certainly hadn’t planned on getting double-crossed by that shit for brains son of a bitch Jimbo. Now that fucking piece of rotting gonads got away with most of the loot and had allowed Jesse to get caught.
Reigning in his anger, Jesse tried to refocus on what the lard-ass was saying. “You’re going to pay this time you useless piece of shit! And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it!”
Figuring that he couldn’t get into more trouble than he already was in so, he started to deliberately tried to rile Durkheim up. “Durkheim, calm down man. I get what you’re saying but you’re getting too excited. Before we move on, I have a question for you. Since when has shit even been useful? I mean, manure if useful. Fertilizing the soil and shit but did you want to call me manure? Cause if you did I can understand. What I don’t understand is why you’re being so harsh on me. I’ve got to say that I’ve had a very emotional night. Imagine being arrested on false pretenses. And you don’t even care. I wonder…could this anger spring from trouble in paradise? Is wifey looking for another monkey to climb her tree? Has she been nibbling on someone else’s banana?”
Jacobs glanced worriedly at the vein pulsating strongly at the chief’s temple. He turned back to Jesse, giving him a look that pretty much said ‘Knock it off before I knock you out.’ // ‘What is it with him? Does he enjoy getting into trouble? I don’t understand him. He looks so happy when he does this…the way his eyes light up and how they crinkle at the sides when he laughs, the way his pink lips tip slightly on the right side when he smirked or how he always darted his tongue across his lips when they are parched…’//
“You think you’re real smart ass. Well, let’s see if you’ll get a laugh out of this. Apparently, you chose a bad night to try to rob that house because it was the same night that its owner returned. To say that he is unhappy would be an understatement. He suggested, well since we’re all friends here, I suggested that he should do something a bit more extreme than press charges. I mean that’s the only way that a troubled young man such as yourself will learn, right?” Durkheim concluded, a slightly sinister smile on his lips.
“A bit more extreme?” Jesse asked warily. He really didn’t like the look Durkheim was giving him.
“Yes, well I was thoughtful enough to tell him your truly miraculous story of survival. No, no it’s okay. You can thank me later.” He said when Jesse was about to interrupt and you can bet it was not anything even remotely close to gratitude.
“I was sure to tell him that this wasn’t your first offense, that you’re practically homeless and a very troubled young man. Now it is with delight that I tell you that you are now under the ‘loving’ care of our resident billionaire, Aidan Scott.”
“WWHHHAAAAAAAAAAATTT? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! You can’t just hand me off to some random stranger, no matter how fucking rich he is!” Jesse screamed.
“Of course I can and I just did. Now I suggest you lower your fucking voice and watch your tone.”
Jesse swallowed his rage and disbelief long enough to speak quietly, almost pleadingly. “Come on Chief, this is wrong. It’s wrong on so many levels; it goes against every moral out there. Where are your morals Chief?”
“With you Jesse, I have none. I’d say pack your bags but from the looks and smell of things, I’d say that you’re wearing everything you own.” Durkheim said, his tone condescending.
“Not everything. I ain’t wearing your wife right?” Jesse said, his attempt at being calm over.
Before Durkheim could retort, a rookie entered the room. “Hey Chief! The kid’s ride is here.”
“Well, Jesse boy. Time to go to your new home.” Fatzilla said, a purely sinister smile on his face.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
END CHAPTER 2
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A/N: Thanks for reading this story once again. Please keep reviewing and allowing me to know what you think. Sorry about any grammatical errors. I think I might have changed Aidan’s name….if I did, sorry for the confusion…..it is now Aidan Scott. Thanks and peace out!