#sisika

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@manifcst-o​ said:  ☹ My muse is jealous over someone else showing interest in yours.

“New guard seems…friendly.”

The guards here are never friendly, not to Samuel anyway, not to anyone in fact; even the corrupt ones treat the prisoners here like shit. So why has the new guard seemingly taken such a shine to Hugo and what the hell were they talking about at lunch, when Samuel was given a glare just for looking up from his plate of prison issue slop?

He doesn’t mean to stare at Hugo with such suspicion, but it doesn’t sit well with him, another man seeming so cosy with Hugo, a man who holds a position of power in here, who could use that power to manipulate Hugo, should his cellmate give him the chance. Christ, for all Samuel knows it might be going on already. Hugo did spend a lot of time away from the workhouse yesterday.

“You can’t trust him, you know that, right?”

Samuel isn’t sure if he’s being subtle right now in his accusation, or if he is being blatant; perspective is a difficult thing in Sisika, given he has no real exposure to the outside world. Everything in here seems magnified in importance, ten times over and in truth it’s something he struggles with; that constant sense of impending disaster. 

“Whatever he’s promised you Hugo, it’s not…it isn’t real, not like…this...”

Going to places rockstar doesn’t allow you to go in RDO is so much fun!

SEND 💋 FOR MY MUSE TO KISS YOURS (no longer accepting)

@manifcst-o​ said:  💋 

One week…seven days…168 hours…that was how long Samuel had spent down in the hole, a concrete cell with an iron door, the only semblance of human contact being the two eyes that would routinely appear to stonily stare at him through a narrow slot before sending his tray of half rations through a similar hole positioned at the base of the door. By day two he’d learned to catch the tray early in order to avoid his food being splattered across the floor, but that doesn’t make the slop they serve here any more palatable.

Like most of the men in Sisika, Samuel has heard tales told of how easily a man can lose his mind in a place like this, of how solitary confinement is a whole new kind of hell in and of itself. After seven days of being locked up, his voice is hoarse and raw as he states his name when asked and is finally escorted from the cell. It’s a voice that doesn’t sound like his own and is somehow strangely unrecognisable to him, but that’s what solitarily aims to do he supposes; change you, rendering you unrecognisable to even yourself.

It is not the lack of light, the cold nights or the half rations that have succeeded in crushing Samuel’s spirit, but rather it is the lack of company, Hugo’s company specifically. On the worst nights Sam near convinced himself that the man might have been have been moved to another cell block or another penitentiary, or perhaps harmed in some way or even killed. A self-inflicted kind of torture he supposes, but an effective one, evident from the red rims around his eyes and his pallid complexion, both of which are a reflection of how little he has slept these past few days. He has tried not to dwell on it of course, tried to reassure himself that Hugo will be back in their cell when he returns, safe and well…as well as one can ever be in a place like this. But hope is hard in Sisika, hard to find and even harder to keep a hold of; in truth there is a part of Samuel that fears hoping at all, fears the pain it will bring him when he learns such hope is false.

When his shackles are removed, Samuel barely reacts, he feels like a spectre, weak and ethereal and when he practically glides into the cell, it takes everything he has to believe the near joyous sight that greets him, the sight that instantly re-ignites the embers of his burned down hope…Hugo.

With his head down, he waits until the guards footfalls fade, before glancing up to look at his cellmate with affectionate eyes. Sam is weak, worn and thin, but it doesn’t stop him moving quickly to embrace Hugo, tears forming at the edges of his eyes as he experiences the fulfilled promise of the warmth and comfort that has kept him going during these dark days.

@manifcst-o​ said:

It was early morning in the darkness of their cell. He was still groggy from sleep but he had felt Sam stir next to him and knew he was waking too. He turned so he could press a kiss to his shoulder, other hand coming to rest on his chest where it stroked patterns into his skin, “It’s my birthday today,” he murmured quietly.

=====================

As Samuel feels Hugo’s soft touch, his eyes flicker open, instinctually glancing towards the bars of their cell door, ensuring he cannot see the glow of a patrolling guard’s lantern, before responding.

“Mmm…Birthday boy.” He practically growls, his voice still somewhat gruff from sleep as he carefully turns in their small bunk to face Hugo. As his hand gently eases up his cellmate’s spine, his fingers lightly dance over the jutting curvature of his back bone. In truth they are both overly lean from being undernourished, but to Samuel’s mind that only makes it all the more important the he takes the time with his touch to remind Hugo just how much his body pleases him, no matter what form it takes. It is comfort and it is warmth; it is the body of the man who has come to mean more to him than any other, the man who has become Samuel’s reason for living.

“I’ll take you out to the city for a fine supper and drinks…” He grins, eyes glittering in the dark as his hand slides down Hugo’s back to slip under the waistband of his prison issue pants, allowing Samuel to take pleasure in softly gripping a good handful of Hugo’s warm rear.

Tilting his head he peppers the man’s jaw with soft biting kisses. “…and after we’re finished, I’ll take you to the theatre…” The hand on Hugo’s rear is no longer squeezing but is flat now, used to push his cellmate into him so that in that tender collision, Hugo can feel the hard heat of Samuel, thick against his thigh.

“…when we get back to the guest house, drunk and giddy, we’ll take a hot bath in a huge copper tub and then, dressed only in the flicker of firelight, I’ll bathe every inch of you in bubbles…”

Sam is practically rutting against Hugo now, hands hungrily exploring his taut stomach and chest as he encourages his cellmate’s stark arousal with steady, rhythmic rolls of his hips. Hearing the unmistakable sound of footfalls, he pauses abruptly, frozen in position, only when the volume of those footsteps begins to mercifully recede, does he continue, this time with renewed vigour.

Sensing they may not have much time, he hungrily thrusts his hand down between Hugo’s legs to take an indulgently firm hold of him.

“…and then I’ll take you to bed and under the finest silk sheets I’ll make you scream louder than you ever thought possible.”

@manifcst-o​ said: 

He rolled the piece of bread from his plate to Samuel's, glanced at him from under his brow and resumed eating the rest of his food.

=============

Lunch here is often eaten communally and while it is obvious the prison is suffering from over-population, the guards still manage to maintain utter silence among the inmates. The only noises to be heard therefore, are those of polished leather boots pacing the grimy floors and starving men eating hungrily.

At first only Samuel’s eyes shift as he senses Hugo’s movement. In Sisika, it doesn’t take much for the guards to notice these highly forbidden interactions. Anywhere else such a motion would seem barely noticeable and utterly meaningless but here it is blatant; a risk, one Samuel is surprised Hugo’s taken.

Head down, staring expressionless at the pile of mush on his plate that passes for food in this place, Samuel slips his hand over in the tiniest of increments, to delicately retrieve the ball of bread. Smoothing it out on his tray, he finds it hollow, an area clearly torn out of it to deliberately create an unmistakable void; one clearly in the shape of a heart. Before anyone else can see it, Samuel hastily stuffs it into his mouth, chewing for a few moments before swallowing hard. 

SEVEN PSYCHOPATHS SENTENCE STARTERS. (no longer accepting)

@manifcst-o​ said:  ❝ I’m going to be over to kill you on Tuesday. ❞

Turning, Samuel glances down to the shiv Hugo has finally finished making out of his toothbrush, the one the man is now brandishing at him in jest.

“Hmmm…..let me see.”

Picking up Hugo’s bible from the table, the only piece of real furniture in their shared cell, Samuel slowly flips through the book page after page, before running his finger down one of the pages with a thoughtful expression on his face.