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Another path

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„Everything that happened to her is on you,” Braga said with a malicious smile, stating with a cruel glee what Brian already knew and didn’t want to hear.

Guilt was an awful feeling, constricting your lungs and making it hard to breathe with the consciousness of failure as heavy as a lead. Lashing out at someone would lift the crashing weight of it from his shoulders for only a briefest time. Still, it’d be good to punch Braga in the face, he never wanted it quiet as much as in this moment. He lunged at the barred hole in the solitary cell doors.

“If not these doors-”

He didn’t even get to finish his threat.

The heavy metal door opened with a grinding sound. Outside stood Braga, merry as always, with two thugs at his side. Brian’s police academy trained senses quickly assessed his chances, both guys held shrives, there was nothing sharp in his cell. That made three – no, two, Braga wouldn’t fight – to one. Not that bad odds, he had faced worse.

Then there was knife pointed at his chest, him making a dodge and dealing a kick toward the second opponent at the same time. It all happened too quickly to think, only instinct and reflexes at work, warning him of flash of blade in artificial light. He tried to knock the weapon from one of the attacker’s hand and take it for himself but the guy retrieved it too quickly, before his blow had a chance to touch Brian’s flesh.

Something was wrong, he realized rather as a feeling than a conscious thought. Both of them had knives, he was defenseless and though he guarded his vital points well, he shall bleed from numerous places already.

He got it, with a sinking feeling, when one of the thugs managed to grab him from behind, restricting his arms. They didn’t fight to kill him, they fought to subdue him.

“You fucked up my business, now I'll have you pay back in the same manner,” Braga announced with that constant annoying smirk of his, confirming Brian’s premonitions.

He trashed in a grip, almost yanking himself free but a fist to the face from the other thug robbed him off the needed coordination.

“Didn’t know you’re into guys,” he said through the blood filling his mouth because damn, if words were the only weapon available at the moment, he was going to use them as well. And he needed a second of distraction so his head would stop spinning and he would be able to control his limbs again.

Braga chuckled. “Oh, not me. But these guys are pretty starved.”

Adrenaline surged like NOS in his veins when Brian saw one of his opponents unzipping his pants and reaching inside. He gathered himself and threw his head backward, hitting the thug holding him square into the chest. Would work better if the blow was to the nose or jaw but that would require these gorillas to be the size of normal men. Still, it weakened the hold enough for Brian to spring loose.

His freedom ended shortly, however, as the other thug shoved him backward right away. This time the orange blouse he wore was pulled down his arms, restricting his movements further, binding his hands. He cursed himself mentally for leaving the zip open.

The guy before him managed to lower his pants and underwear already, his exposed cock jutted menacingly toward Brian. Fuck, fuck, fuck, how was that happening.

“Do I see fear in those eyes?” Braga leered at him, not giving him the smallest mercy of being able to forget about his infuriating existence. “You thought you had a deal with guards, didn’t you? They let you in, they let you out. I have an unpleasant surprise for you, O’Conner, you’re not the only one that can bribe them. Besides, they’ll let you free at the agreed time but what happens to you in between, it’s a shutcall’s call. My call. Begin your fun, boys.”

He stepped out of the thug’s way, waving his finger like a virtuoso commanding a start. The beef man advanced on Brian with a lewd smile but Brian’s eyes were fixed on his fat cock held in a hand.

He measured the distance well, knowing it might be his only chance, hung in the grasp of the man behind him and kicked out with both legs simultaneously. The gorilla was quick, evaded one of Brian’s boots but still the second got him in the groin. The thug doubled over, holding his crotch.

Brian smirked victoriously even as his outlash earned him a knee to the kidney and he slumped in the hands holding him with bruising strength.

“Feisty one, aren’t you?” Panted the kicked thug, straightening slowly. The hit didn’t deprive him of erection as Brian hoped. Worse, there was a sick glint in his eyes now. “I’ve got lots of feisty girls before they got me. One almost bit off my ear.”

“I’ll bite off your cock,” Brian growled, struggling to stay upward.

“Good thing I'm not putting it anywhere near your teeth.”

Braga snickered somewhere from the side, amused by the exchange.

“Hold him down.”

His legs were kicked from under him, a blow to solar plexus stole his breath and before he could put on a fight anew they dragged him to the small space of solitary cell and pushed on the cot there. He trashed and snarled and cursed at them but it didn’t change anything, they had the advantage of weight and number and soon his loose prison pants were dragged down, exposing his ass while the pair of strong hands crashed his face into the pillow, smothering him.

His whole body jerked with revulsion as a greedy palm groped his ass chick. Trousers tangling at his knees and calves rendered the kicks impossible.

“Wriggle all you want, not gonna do you any favor, bitch.”

Brian heard the rasping sound before the spittle hit his bare skin, wetness dripping down the cleft obscenely. The thug didn’t waste time of working it in with his fingers. Instead Brian felt the blunt head of the man’s cock pressing at his hole.

Pain ripped through him and he tried to move his hips away but there was nowhere to go with his pelvis already pushing flush into the thin mattress. The man behind him was unrelenting, the pressure grew until Brian felt like his skin would tore and the cock forced its way into him, each inch burning like fire.

He screamed into the pillow for once grateful for the suffocation it provided as it muffled the pitiful sound.

“Damn, he’s tight.” His violator panted as he paused, his weight cramming Brian into the cot. The other man still held his shoulders.

“Is he now?” Braga sounded cheerful. “One would think should be pretty stretched by now by Toretto’s cock. What? You say something? Let him up a bit, I didn’t catch that.”

There were fingers tightening painfully at Brian’s short hair, pulling his head up.

“Fuck you,” he said as soon as Braga came into his vision, leaning casually onto the wall, partially obscured by the muscled arm from Brian’s viewpoint.

“Ow, touchy ground? He doesn't fuck you?” Braga mocked. “I gotta tell you when I saw you first together in my club I was pretty sure you were his bitch. Sister story arc seemed forced. No worry, Brian, we'll prepare you well for him. You’d both be grateful yet.”

Brian opened his mouth to retort but the thug that had his cock buried in him chose that moment to move and the angry ‘motherfucker’ turned into a howl of agony.

“That’s it, bitch, scream for me.” The rapist urged, punctuating each word with a thrust, perhaps lost in the fantasy of his misdoings before prison.

Brian snapped his mouth shut, determined not to give them any more satisfaction from humiliating him. But no matter how hard he clenched his teeth, still grunts of pain escaped him as the man fucked him ruthlessly.

He tried to burrow his face into the pillow once more to hide from the derisive gapes but Braga stepped in.

“Oh no. Don’t be shy now. Show me yourself.”

Again hand in his hair directed his head for him, turning it to the side until he stared right at the former cartel owner. He hated it how powerless they’ve made him, how his legs were pinned down by the crashing weigh of the other man, how his hands were entangled in the blouse, how fingers on his scalp made even looking somewhere else than where Braga wanted impossible.

“That’s it, that’s how I want to picture the man that put me in here. Even as you got out of here, O’Conner, I’m gonna entertaining that image in my mind: of you helpless, held down and fucked by my men. Mhm, beautiful.”

Brian wanted to snap at him, told him to fuck off and shove his sick fancies up his ass. But words, thoughts even dissolved before he could fully form them under the sequence of brutal thrusts. Things got slicker now, something trickled down his thigh, wet noises joined slapping sounds echoing in the solitary room.

The man above him stilled and, realizing what’s coming, Brian buckled under him in a desperate attempt to throw him off but the thug just grabbed his hips, immobilizing him effectively, and jizzed into his ass.

Brian still shook with pain and humiliation as the man pulled out. As soon as the stifling weight lifted off him, Brian attempted to get his knees under him, pull himself upward, ignoring the dull pain throbbing between his legs. The liberty was short-lived however.

The other man, the one that held his arms till now, took the place of his fellow con that had fucked Brian.

“No!” shouted Brian, as the thug flipped him over onto his back. He tried to sit up but the first man already stood there and all he had to do was put both hands at Brian’s shoulders to press him down again. The man at his legs was tugging Brian’s pants completely off.

Brian kicked wildly at the approaching enemy but the thug got a strong hold on his ankles pretty quickly.

Brian turned into his helpless anger toward the one that was behind the whole spectacle.

“I’ll kill you for it,” he seethed.

Braga laughed.

“You’ve turned into the bad guy fully. No arrest threats anymore, going straight for the kill.”

“Fuck you, no!” Brian raged at the man holding his legs spread, trying desperately to get them free and kick the attacker in the balls.

Neither his shouts nor trashes brought any effect, the mass of muscles and strength in front of him reached his abused hole and the cock was shoved in him again. This time Brian held back any noise, breathing in through the nose and telling himself he endured this already, the second time will be easier. And then it will end because Braga didn’t seem interested.

It didn’t feel easier at all, however, as the hard cock dragged at his aching entrance.

“My man here isn’t much talkative,” Braga said conversationally, “but I think you’re his type. He’s got a poster in his cell with a pretty blue-eyed blond chick.”

Brian tried to hold onto consciousness at the man pushed into him time and again, each shove feeling like a stab of knife, jolting his whole smaller frame up the cot, into the restricting arms of the other criminal. He was sure now he was bleeding and it was like the thug was punching him in the open wound in the guts.

Braga, clearly dissatisfied by the lack of response, changed the approach slightly.

“Yeah, his type… much more than a certain black eyed black haired sharp girl was. What was her name again? Letty?”

“Don’t… bring her… into this,” Brian forced out.

“But I didn’t bring her into this. You were the one who got her involved. I think you have some idea now how I punish people that fail me. And the people I really, really hate are cops and their rats. So you see, when we found out she’s working for you, we needed to punish that. You know what we did?”

Brian shook his head but it didn’t stop the horrible words.

“I think you already do. We showed her the lesson you’re learning now. Different squad, of course, but similar methods. Will you pass it to her boyfriend? Along with my regards. And you know what’s most funny? It was right before she escaped and so before she lost memory. She doesn’t remember, she has no idea and is still loyal. Ironic, no?”

Brian didn't want to listen to that, didn't want to think of Letty like that, to ponder how much he failed Dom's trust. Pain was distracting but not enough to shut off Braga’s words and, fuck, maybe he deserved that for all that he’d done to Torettos’ family.