Prisoner - louisantidote - One Direction (Band) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter Text

Cold, a sharp cold that made him writhe in his hard, bare bed. There was little difference between his bed and the floor itself. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he rubbed against the mattress, he couldn't warm his body.

The soft breathing of his cellmate mockingly reached his ears. A vicious reminder that the man had stripped him of his bed covers. Louis shivered, hoping that the morning would come soon so he could get some warmth from the sun; if it wasn't hidden behind the clouds.

How many nights would he last before he froze to death?

All because of Harry. His personal host, who, to his surprise, didn't shove him into bed or abuse him. He watched silently as Harry, after that brush of their mouths, with a cruel sneer, took the bed covers assigned to Louis and neatly arranged them on what was his own bed. Looking sideways at Louis and co*cking a vile smile. The blue-eyed man didn't have the courage to reproach such rudeness, and simply resigned himself to the idea that he would be cold at night.

However, cold was an understatement. Surely he would feel warmer out in the open. He could not feel his toes, even when he wore shoes. He covered his face with his forearm in an attempt to warm the air entering his nostrils. Nothing helped. Once again, he stirred, causing one of the bedsprings to squeak. He heard Harry's throat clearing and prayed in his thoughts that the man wouldn't be upset by deciding to beat him up and carry out the promised consummation of the carnal act.

“Are you cold?” he asked in a hoarse, sleepy voice.

“Yes,” Louis sighed.

“Hmm.”

They said no more. Louis listened as Harry apparently returned to the world of Morpheus. Ignoring his ailment and purring lazily as he stirred in his bed, rattling the covers wrapped around him, keeping him out of the freezing cold.

f*cking bastard.

When exhaustion finally overcame the cold, he drifted off into the world of sleep. Waking from time to time from the frigid, but miraculously falling back to sleep. He had to get a blanket for his bed, and find a way to keep Harry from taking it off.

Hadn't he said he was his prey?

Who would treat their prey like that? That was very, very vile.

sh*t. Louis had too much to learn.

..

“Get up, you bastards! It's time for breakfast. Come on, come on!”

Louis' eyes stirred beneath his eyelids. Aware that he should wake up but finding himself too fatigued to open his eyes. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. Not strong enough to carry out the commands his brain was giving him.

He heard gasping breaths, thuds, and grunts that caught his attention. With great effort, and praising himself for it, he managed to open his blue eyes. Staring at those four walls. When he managed to focus, propping himself up on his elbows and letting out one last spasm due to the cold that had pierced his skin, lodging itself inside his body; he saw Harry.

Louis' throat was dry and scratchy. He didn't want to utter a word, afraid of what would come out of it. His gaze swept over the man and a knot lodged in his belly; tight and painful.

A manly, muscular build. Every muscle in his body looked exceptionally worked and toned. Broad-shouldered and rounded, with long arms and shapely legs. Wrapped in a layer of pearly sweat that showed off his skin and highlighted the man's tattoos.

Louis blinked, still analysing that animal specimen with human morphology in front of him. Was that the guy who had made him his prisoner? Was that his owner? Wow.

Harry's hands were covered with gloves, and his torso was bare. His feet were bandaged, and he was doing little hops, hunching over to lift his legs alternately and hit the punching bag in front of him. The animalistic gasps he let out made Louis shudder.

One punch from that man and he could kiss his life goodbye. He felt sorry for the punching bag. He prayed he would never become that punching bag.

Harry's punches were quick and accurate. He looked like a f*cking pro, leaning from side to side, punching with his elbows, knees, and fists. Tilting his head as if dodging imaginary blows.

Louis' eyes went wide as Harry, in a bestial roar used his heel and with a high kick, hit the punching bag with too much force. Breaking the thick leather fabric. However, Harry noticed his pitiful attempt to go unnoticed. He halted his assault on the poor practice instrument and turned in Louis' direction. Wiping the sweat from his forehead and spitting on the floor.

Harry glared at him. His jaw tense and a load of rage palpable on his face. Louis shrank in place. Had he done something wrong?

“You look like a corpse. How bloody disgusting,” he scolded, contemptuously.

Louis wondered what he meant by that. Harry pointed to the broken piece of mirror above the sink and Louis, feeling his body heavy and languid, walked over to the spot.

What the mirror reflected was simply hopeless. Corpse? That was being optimistic. His cheekbones stood out, his skin was dull, and the purplish circles that graced his eyes were grotesque. His lips looked like a mixture of red, purple and blue, the product of the slap Harry had given him the night before.

It was as if he was finally reflecting on the outside how he felt on the inside. It made him feel vulnerable and exposed. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Harry, who had pulled out a razor and a piece of soap from a suitcase hidden under the bunk bed.

“Here.” He held them out to Louis. “I don't like beards. Shave and do something about looking like a dead bitch.”

Louis felt like talking back. After all, Harry was partly to blame. He looked like that after being tortured by the cold of the night. However, he remained silent, accepted the razor and soap.

Louis turned on the water, that gushed out and then stopped in an inconstant flow. Under Harry's scrutinising gaze, he proceeded to shave. The metal blade passed all over his face, in different directions. He washed his face, proud for not cutting himself, even though his hands were shaking.

With his fingertips, he groped the bruise on his mouth, a small, traitorous groan escaping his lips. He watched in the reflection of the mirror as Harry watched him with discontent.

“What, you're going to whine about a little bruise? This is a f*cking prison, little lamb. Not a five-star hotel.”

“I know,” he conceded. He wasn't stupid, he knew that in a prison beatings and fights were normal. But he couldn't ask him to get used to it willingly, either. “I'm sorry.”

“It was just a slap.”

“Yeah.”

“It shouldn't hurt that much, overreacting brat.”

Harry groaned, annoyed at something Louis couldn't quite figure out what it was. He kept staring at his owner like a trained dog waiting for a new command. Louis felt disgusted with himself. Harry turned back to his suitcase and cursed under his breath as he rummaged through it.

“Here. Use it for your mouth.” Harry, jadedly, stretched his arm out in the direction of the blue-eyed man and placed an old stick of cocoa butter in one of Louis's hands. “It's the only one I have, take care of it.”

Louis's eyes widened in astonishment at that small piece of usedof lip balm. His chapped lips would definitely appreciate it.

“Oh.” Louis didn't know what to say.

“Didn't anyone teach you how to say thank you?” Harry sneered cynically. co*cking his head to one side and folding his arms.

“Thank you, Harry…”

Louis didn't know if he was being too bold by calling him by name, however, Harry seemed pleased.

He moved closer to Louis, stalking him with his piercing green eyes, giving Louis free passage to take in the smell of his body. Harry smelled of salt and vinegar, surely he would have that taste.

Louis swallowed hard due to his own thoughts. Louis's problem was that he thought with his co*ck most of the time. Which wasn't good.

“Listen to me, little lamb… To everyone here, you're already my prey. Is that clear to you?” Louis nodded. “I don't want to see you talking to anyone, I don't want to see you looking at anyone. I don't like to share.”

“F-fine. Okay. I- I won't look at anyone.” Louis felt embarrassed.

Harry's voice was dangerous, possessive, and demanding. It made the coldness ingrained in his body disappear. No one had ever treated him like that, he had never been an object of possession, much less jealousy. Still, he was in no position to complain.

“Perfect.”

The door to their cell opened, and a guard entered, watching them with a scowl and a grimace of displeasure. Surely he was not a huge fan of his job.

“Showers, now.”

Harry broke away from Louis, turning and walking out of the cell. The guard looked down as he walked past him, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Louis. The moment the man checked that Harry had already disappeared, he gave him a look.

“Do you need to go to the doctor?”

Louis' mouth opened to reply. He stopped when he realized he didn't know what to say. Clearly the man thought Harry had abused him, and he didn't know how bad it was.

What should he say, that he was f*cked or not? Tough life decisions.

If the rumour got around that Harry had already f*cked him, it would only make concrete the fact that he belonged to him and no one else could touch him, right? He hoped he was right.

“N-no… It's not that bad,” he lied.

The man's eyes narrowed, suspicious of him. But he said no more. He motioned for him to leave the cell, and Louis did so.

Unlike the night before, when there was no one in the hallways, this time it was crowded with convicts. Everyone's eyes were on him, and Louis walked oblivious to them, eyes fixed on the floor and glancing up from time to time to avoid bumping into anyone.

He jumped a little when he felt a spank. He cursed and kept walking, turning a deaf ear to the obscenities that were muttered around him.

Yes, he knew he had a nice ass, f*ckable and all. He also knew he was handsome and thin. Was there any need for the convicts to be so disgusting?

Thanks to… to whatever it was, which was definitely not God, that bastard didn't exist, and if he did then he definitely hated Louis; he made it to the showers. Louis was handed a towel and a fresh change of clothes. Looking around the place, the steam covering the bodies.

There was hot water! He could happily dance.

Louis left his clothes and towel in one of the many drawers. With his stomach churning at the knowledge that he would have to undress in the presence of those leering eyes. Heavily built men waited attentively for him to begin stripping off his clothes, but none of them approached him. Or so it was until a bald man, over six feet tall, stood at his back.

“Smells like a fancy whor*,” he whispered in his ear. Louis's jaw tightened. “Name.”

This time he didn't respond. He remained silent and pulled off his jumper. He felt a relief when the fabric stopped rubbing against his skin. What the hell were they making those clothes out of? Spikes?

“I'm talking to you!” He turned Louis by the shoulders and slammed him against the lockers. The blue-eyed man closed his eyes and let out a groan.

Harry's words echoed in his head. He wasn't to look at anyone, he wasn't to talk to anyone. f*cking Harry, he hoped that being his prey would bring him something good. Which up until that moment, wasn't happening.

“So you're just going to ignore me?” The man turned Louis around again, forcing him to lean against the lockers.

“No!” Louis said in an agonised voice as he felt the scumbag hands on his arse. Pulling down his trousers, leaving his perky, nice ass in the air. “No, let go of me!

Louis stirred in desperation. The bald man's vile laughter drilled in his ears, however, and to his salvation, Harry had arrived.

Harry watched them in silence for a few seconds, undeterred. With his expression dry and indecipherable, he walked to the showers, where the water was pouring. No one spoke, the air could be cut with a knife. Louis felt tears in his eyes as he listened as the bald man guffawed again, hoarse and low. Just for Louis to hear.

“Looks like he's had enough of you,” he whispered in his ear.

The brunette sank in anguish as he felt the man touch him. All going back to their activities and ignoring that he would be viciously abused.

“Carson,” Harry said.

He was referring to the bald guy as he stopped the abuse and turned in the direction of the one who called himself, king of the prison.

“What's the matter, emperor?”

“He's hot, isn't he? The little lamb you have there,” he asked mockingly.

The man smiled, unhappily. He nodded and, sure that Harry wasn't going to interrupt him, turned back to Louis, who was mournfully resigned.

“f*cking hot. He could be a king's bitch,” Harry spoke again. Harry got out of the water and walked over to where Louis was. He patted the bald guy's shoulder and, with a grin, walked up to his face. “Now tell me, Carson, are you a f*cking king?”

At that moment, most of the convicts began to emerge from the showers. All with urgency and fear oozing from their eyes. Carson's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, with the sound of saliva passing through his pharynx reaching Louis' ears.

“Answer me, Carson, are you a king?” The named man shook his head, terrified of the calm and amusem*nt with which Harry spoke. “Yeah, you're not… Then why have you laid your filthy hands on what belongs to your emperor?”

“Ha-Harry… I don't-”

Louis cringed when he heard the blow Harry delivered to the man's jaw. He kept his eyes tightly closed, humming a melody in his head to mitigate Carson's screams and bellows of pain.

No guards interfered, they simply watched from a distance as Harry cracked the man's bones, smashing him with his fists and legs.

The brave few who remained to witness such an atrocity watched in silence. Blood spattered in heaps on the pavement floors.

Harry ran his gaze over Louis' body, cupping his chin with his fingers to search his face.

“I-I'm fine.” Louis lied.

Harry nodded and turned his gaze back to the inmates.

“This…” he gasped, “is just to make clear to you that no one… no one! Absolutely no one, is allowed to touch my stuff!”

He stretched out his arms and spun on his feet. With his face and hands splashed with the red liquid. Louis groaned as he felt Harry's hand wrap around his waist.

“Does anyone else want to get their hands on him!” He squeezed hard, and Louis winced in pain. They all denied, some cheering for the emperor who boasted of his dominance in that putrid place.

Harry returned to the shower. He washed away the blood and emerged, with a hint of anger, he walked past Louis, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye but not saying a word. It was a few long minutes before everything returned to relative normality. Men walking to the showers and a few others watching the blue-eyed man who showered quickly, not enjoying the warm touch of the water on his skin in the slightest.

In new, clean clothes, somewhat less unpleasant than the night before, he walked to the cafeteria where he stood in a long line to get his food. All eyes were on him.

What, they had nothing else to do?

He got a meagre portion of food and a slice of bread. Tray in hand, he sat down at a table where miraculously there was no one. He didn't want to share the table with any of these criminals. He really didn't want to have any contact with those convicts.

Louis ate in silence, chewing his food with effort and distaste. He heard a few chuckles and some whispering in the background. Louis looked up from his plate to see Harry, accompanied by two other guys, walking in his direction.

Now what, they were going to sit down together and have a romantic meal with smooches?

“You're at my table. Go away.”

Oh…

Harry's followers were behind him. Like faithful dogs to their owner.

Louis nodded and picked up his tray, got up and tried to find another place to eat. The contemptuous and threatening looks told him he was out of luck. Apparently the convicts didn't want to share a table with him either.

“Over there.” Louis turned when he heard Harry's voice, already seated and drinking his coffee. Coffee? God… what an injustice. Louis had been given a cup of hot water and sugar.

“Huh?” He saw where Harry was pointing his head at.

A group of rather loud guys. They were joking and gesturing with their hands. It didn't take him long to figure out what group that was.

Harry was sending him to his friends' preys.

He swallowed his pride and walked in that direction. Hearing the giggles of the macho men who were probably f*cking them, but still felt very manly and 'straight'.

“Uhm. Excuse me…?”

The guys stopped their chatter and looked at Louis. The blue-eyed man's cheeks flushed red.

“Sit down and eat. No one is going to bother you here,” the guy at the head of the table pointed at him. Short black hair, with pretty blue eyes. “What's your name?”

“Louis,” he sat down and looked down at his food. He had intended to eat in silence, but he knew that wouldn't be possible.

He was practically the new attraction in that deranged circus.

“So your boyfriend sent you here. Did he f*ck you too hard? I have antiseptic ointment for… you know, but it'll cost you a lot.” Louis choked on his food. He took a sip from his glass of water and looked around for the person who had said that.

“I don't need it, but thank you,” he replied drily. The conversation would probably have continued had it not been for a fight breaking out a few tables over.

“Oh god, can't you people stop behaving like baboons?” a guy said.

“I'd rather they released their energy like that.”

At that, Louis felt someone sit down next to him. He turned his gaze and found a smiling boy with blond hair and blue eyes. He looked different from what was seen in that place. Neat and clean, with a soft smile and an air of distinction.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” The guy extended a hand to Louis. “I'm Niall.”

“Louis.”

“I know. There's no one here who doesn't know your name.” Louis rolled his eyes, but smiled. For some reason, the blond's words didn't sit badly with him, and he just didn't see disdain or malice in him. “Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

Niall shrugged and took a bite of his bread. “You're with Harry, and we all know he tends to be a bit of a rough one.”

“Oh. Uhm— no I, well… I'm resilient,” he lied again. To his good fortune, Niall seemed to believe him.

“That's good. Tell me, Louis, why are you here?”

The doctor was about to open his mouth when he saw Niall's face change colour. From his noticeable pale, his cheeks went to a flush of red and his fists clenched.

“f*cking son of a bitch,” he muttered with his eyes fixed on Harry's table.

Everyone at the table followed the blond's gaze. At the table where Harry was eating, one of his friends was laughing and joking with another guy. If Louis wasn't an expert on the subject, he might not have noticed, but it was all too obvious that those two were flirting.

“Your boyfriend?” he asked teasingly.

“Yeah,” Niall replied in an annoyed groan. Leaving Louis surprised. He didn't even hesitate.

“Let it go, Niall. Zayn's a prick and you shouldn't waste your time with him,” the boy at the head of the table commented. His eyes were noble and wise. They exuded that knowledge that comes with years and pain.

Louis felt a slight respect for that stranger.

“I'm Noah,” he said as if he could read Louis' mind. “I've been here for a few years.”

Louis nodded silently. Turning back to his food and brushing aside the curses, Niall was hurling from a distance at that Zayn guy.

“I don't get it, what is it about that dirty whor* that's driving them crazy? First Harry and now-” Niall stopped. He saw out of the corner of his eye, Louis who was watching him with some curiosity. “That's Francesco, a bloody French guy, and until recently he was Harry's favourite. He thought he was a big shot, but when Harry dumped him… he was left helpless, and now he wants my man.”

Niall shook his head and looked away from the scene in front of his eyes.

“You know Zayn's not going to leave you,” another boy encouraged. Niall waved his hand, downplaying it.

“I don't care anymore. Tell me, Louis, what do you know about North Collan?”

“Uh…” Louis thought about what to answer. “Well. I arrived yesterday, so I don't know much. Apparently, the big shot owns me… and, that's about it.”

“You really don't know anything.” Niall let out a small smile, and they all joined in. “Come on, I'll tell you. This isn't just a prison. Here the guards see us as mere entertainment, corruption is the law and power is the currency of payment, Louis. But yes, we could say that Harry is the emperor of the place. No one disobeys him, and if you can keep him tied to you, you might not find it such a pain to be here.”

Louis let out a dry sigh. None of that was news to him, and after what he'd been through in the showers where a corpse had been left on the floor like Harry didn't care; he'd seen that no one would disagree with him.

“You know about tournaments?”

“Tournaments?” Louis asked. Now that was new.

“Yeah. Tournaments… Harry isn't the emperor because he's just a thug, Louis. Harry is the emperor because he's been undefeated since he arrived, three years ago.”

“What? I don't understand.” Louis really didn't. “Where do they do the tournaments?”

Niall rolled his eyes and nudged him.

“You're going to see for yourself soon enough.”

After that, and with the doubt simmering in Louis, they ate in a somewhat pleasant conversation. The blue-eyed man didn't feel at all in his comfort zone with those guys, but it was better than nothing. At least none of them had turned out to be extremely unpleasant.

It was time to go out into the courtyards, and Louis wouldn't leave Niall's side. He looked for approval in Harry's eyes as he left the cafeteria. Apparently, his tormentor didn't disapprove because with a slight nod, he indicated that he could go with the blond. Crazy arsehole, feeling all powerful just because a few criminals obeyed him.

..

Talking to the loud blond was like a breath of fresh air.

Niall Horan, really chatty and a bit eccentric. He ended up in prison for stealing watches with his ex-boyfriend. Niall had been in North Collan for almost a year and had been in a relationship with Zayn Malik, the prince, for about six months.

After Harry Styles, the ultimate authority was Zayn Malik, a notorious drug dealer who went down for a bust in Bradford. Niall assured him that he wasn't a bad man, maybe just too rough and crude.

Louis, in turn, told him why he was there. The history with his ex-boyfriend, Luke, and the injustice done to him. Niall told him that many of the convicts in North Collan were also there because of injustices in the justice system.

The conclusion of both of them was that justice was bullsh*t.

They were sitting around a table, Niall was telling him some things about Harry Styles. Like how the man had been a high-ranking military man and had taken the fall for a failed government mission. He also told him that Harry's mental stability left a lot to be wondered about and that he had to be careful because there was nothing anyone could do to defend him if the emperor decided to finish him off. In a burst of honesty, Louis told him about the night before, leaving out the part where they didn't have sex. To his good fortune, Niall promised him some blankets and a jacket for the cold, something Louis would be eternally grateful for.

In the courtyard, the inmates were doing some sport and exercise. Others were chatting and a few were fighting, shouting, pushing and shoving. Louis had got a cigarette and was smoking, looking around and thinking too much.

“So you're a paediatrician?”

Louis nodded.

“The best.” He smiled proudly.

They heard footsteps and stopped their pleasant chat. Harry, Zayn, and another man, stood in front of them. Louis took a puff on his cigarette and fixed his eyes on Harry. What did he want from him?

“Come with me.”

Louis looked at Niall, who with a gesture told him to obey him. It didn't take him long to get to his feet and began to walk behind Harry. The man's broad back was like an indestructible wall, his narrow hips looked like they had been sculpted by hand.

They entered an area that Louis was unfamiliar with, and it had a few rooms. Sports machines and punching bags. It looked like a gym, a very old and deteriorated one.

“What are we doing here?” he asked tentatively.

Harry didn't answer.

They walked down a hallway and came to a dressing room that had a metal plate with Harry's name engraved on it. As they entered, Louis visualised a battered two-piece couch, some folding chairs and a shower with no curtain. It was freezing and damp.

His heart stopped suddenly as Harry began to undress in front of him. Stripping off his tight black t-shirt and unbuttoning his trousers.

“What do you think we're doing here?” Harry asked.

“Uhm. I-I don't-” Louis cleared his throat.

“Come on, I’m in the mood. I'm gonna f*ck you. Take your clothes off.”

Louis's eyes were fixed on the floor. Suddenly, all his food seemed to want to come back up through his mouth. It was obvious that that was going to happen and yet, he couldn't help but feel scared.

He remembered some words from the boys at breakfast. They all jokingly claimed that Harry was a vicious beast in bed, that his bed partners always ended up in the infirmary. He didn't want to feel pain.

With trembling hands and his soul escaping him with every breath, he obeyed. Louis grabbed the hem of his jumper and pulled it off.

Harry sat on the couch and watched the hot show he was being given. Louis's curves were luscious and lovely. Every part of his body looked soft and smooth, as if it were a delicacy stolen from Eden.

His groin throbbed.

Louis kicked his foot out of his trousers, already finding himself completely naked. With his plump arse and his nipples stiff from the cold. He'd been naked a thousand times in his life, and he'd never felt so exposed.

It was Harry's gaze. No man had ever looked at him like that before.

“Come here,” he patted his thighs. Harry wasn't smiling, he was inscrutable. He could even be seen to be tense.

Louis shook his head and before Harry could react badly, he stepped forward to say, “Don't make it hurt, please.”

The emperor co*cked his head to one side, balling his fists.

“Are you telling me what to do?”

“I'm asking you please, Harry. I don't want it to hurt… It can— Uhm. It can be… pleasurable for both of us.” Louis tried.

He knew he had no right whatsoever to ask for that. But it didn't hurt to take a chance, after all, Harry was going to own him anyway. What was the harm in asking a small favour from him to not split his ass in two?

“You want it to be pleasurable, huh?” Louis nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed. Despite the cold, his palms were sweating, and his face felt hot. “Do you really think you could feel pleasure with me?”

Harry and his biting smile made Louis' belly feel contracted.

“Maybe. I-if you're… you-” His voice was a stuttered stammer. “I can… if you're-”

Well, it was either Harry or one of those greasy pigs that had been staring at him since he'd arrived. There was definitely no point of comparison.

“Hm. You know, little lamb? You're going to regret asking me for this.” Harry licked his lips. “Because I can be really good when I want to be, and you'll end up begging me like a bitch in heat to f*ck you all the f*cking time.”

Louis thought he was going to have a heart attack.