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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2448 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
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Pressing his palms against the chipped tiled wall, Booker lowered his head and let the soothing warm water run over his head and shoulders and down his naked body. The effects of the heroin he had snorted in his cell consumed his body, slowing his breathing and giving him a feeling of calmness and wellbeing. Even when he felt a hand on his shoulder he did not jump, instead, he lifted his head and turned around leisurely, as though he had not a care in the world.
Wiping the water from his eyes, he gazed drowsily into CO Trent Matheson’s face and grinned. “Geez Matheson,” he slurred in a sleepy voice. “You pick this day to come in and watch me shower. Where were you when I was held down and forced to suck Martínez’s cock?”
Matheson had the grace to blush but he quickly hid his embarrassment. “Hurry it up Booker,” he replied in a gruff voice. “You’ve got a visitor.”
Dennis sighed and turned away. “Haven’t you heard? I don’t get visitors,” he murmured softly. “Now leave me alone.”
Reaching into the shower, Matheson turned off the faucet. “Well today’s your lucky day, you’ve got two,” he answered abruptly. “So move your ass or I’ll tell them to leave.”
Curiosity finally got the better of him and stepping out of the shower, Booker quickly dried off and pulled on his clothing. He figured it was probably his lawyer but he had no idea who the second person could be. He hoped it was not his mom, as he could not bear to face her in his wasted state of mind.
Walking into the visitors’ room, he stopped when he saw Adam Fuller and Doug Penhall sitting on one side of a table. Both men looked uncomfortable and Doug was chewing nervously on his thumbnail whilst his left leg jigged up and down. For a fraction of a second Booker considered turning around and walking out. However, when Fuller stood up and called him by his name, the small part of his soul that was still Officer Dennis Booker could not openly disobey his superior.
Sighing heavily, he walked forward and pulling out a chair, he sat down, slouching low in the seat. No one spoke for several moments until Fuller finally broke the silence. “What’s going on Booker?” he asked in his usual direct fashion. “Hanson tells me you’re using heroin.”
Booker’s foot tapped nervously on the floor and he folded his arms defiantly across his chest. “Hanson needs to learn to keep his mouth shut,” he replied irritably.
The sound of Fuller slamming his hand down heavily on the wooden table resonated around the room. “You’re still under my command Booker!” he shouted angrily. “When I ask you a question you’ll damn well answer it!”
Lowering his gaze, Dennis pouted sulkily. “Sorry Cap’n,” he muttered moodily.
Surprisingly, Penhall took charge and tried to calm the situation. “Look Booker,” he interjected in a quiet voice. “I know you and I haven’t always got along but I’m worried about you and so is Tom. He wouldn’t give me any details but it’s obvious something’s happened to both of you since being incarcerated and that, along with what happened with Bentley is enough to push any man over the edge. But drugs? Jesus Christ Booker, you’re better than that. Don’t ruin your life—”
“My life’s already ruined,” Booker interrupted in a barely audible voice.
“No Booker, it’s not,” Fuller replied calmly. “Neither you nor Hanson have been found guilty of a crime. We’re still sifting through the adult movie shop and gathering evidence. We have a good chance of proving that it was self defense, so don’t give up now.”
Dennis stayed silent and his eyes remained fixed on the floor. He flinched when Penhall reached out and touched him on the arm but he lifted his head and returned his colleagues gaze.
“Tom’s really upset that you’ve pushed him away,” Doug said in a soft voice. “He doesn’t understand what he did wrong.”
For a fraction of a moment, Booker felt a pang of guilt, but it did not take long for him to push the remorse back into the deep recesses of his mind where it belonged. He had made the break from Hanson and there was no turning back, no matter what happened. Pulling his arm away from Penhall’s touch, he pushed back his chair and stood up. “Tell Hanson I don’t want him talking about me anymore, not to you, not to anyone,” he replied petulantly. “I want him to keep his nose out of my business, understood?”
Penhall’s eyes flashed angrily. “Perfectly,” he replied crossly. Standing up, he turned to face Fuller. “I’m sorry Coach, but I won’t waste my time on someone who doesn’t want my help.”
Adam Fuller’s face suddenly looked old and he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. “Fair enough Penhall,” he replied wearily. Getting to his feet, he tried one last time to reach out to Dennis. “I’m here for you Booker, if you need anything—”
“I won’t,” Booker replied flatly. “You didn’t bother to visit me before, why should I believe you care now?” Before Fuller could reply, Dennis turned his back on the officers and walked away.
**
Having spent seven days alone, confined to the small space of his cell and the foyer outside where he ate his meals, Tom was beginning to feel as though he was losing control of reality. During the day, he suffered panic attacks. He was nauseous, his heart pounded in his chest, his body trembled uncontrollably and he felt the overwhelming need to escape. At night, sleep eluded him. If he did manage to drift off he suffered debilitating nightmares and he woke screaming, his body drenched in perspiration. As he lay in bed, gasping for breath, the night duty CO would stare silently at him through the bars of his cell before walking away. Tom wished that Mary Ellis’ duty assignment was to the segregation unit but he had not seen her since leaving the medical wing a week ago. On his second day in solitary, he had received a short visit from his attorney. Derek Cameron had informed him that the police were still searching for Bentley’s partner, Edward and that they had several promising leads.
However, it was Cameron’s final piece of information that brought Tom’s world crashing in around him. The police were perusing boxes of videos in the hope of gathering evidence and Tom knew that it was only a matter of time before they found the video of him and Booker having sex. Not long after receiving the news, he began to suffer the daily panic attacks that left him feeling emotionally and physically exhausted. Coupled with the lack of sleep and the hours spent on his own, Tom knew he was reaching breaking point. He desperately needed someone to talk to, someone he trusted who would not judge him but he felt too ashamed, too consumed with guilt to even consider telling Penhall or any of his other Jump Street colleagues. Booker was the only one who understood but he was now a stranger to Tom, an enigma whose personality had not only gone full circle but had shot off into the new, scary direction of self-destructive behavior. Hanson yearned to reconcile his relationship with Dennis but he knew it was extremely unlikely that they would ever have that close bond again. There was too much water under the bridge, muddy water that had forever stained the fabric of their friendship.
Lying down on his bed, Tom pulled his knees up to his chest and stared vacantly at the grey wall in front of him. In seven days they would know their fate; the judge at the preliminary hearing would decide if a crime had been committed and if either of the defendants was responsible. Hanson had not changed his mind about pleading guilty if the judge did in fact decide there was a case to answer for, however he had no idea what Booker would do. He hoped that Dennis would drop the façade of pretending that he had killed Bentley and then the court would release him and he could begin to put the torn fragments of his life back together. The guilt Tom felt at agreeing to Booker’s original plan ate away at him constantly and he longed to be able to turn back time and admit right at the beginning that he was the guilty party. However, as the old adage said If wishes were horses then beggars would ride. There was no turning back time; he had to live every day of his life knowing that it was his actions that had irreversibly changed Booker forever and that no matter what he did, he could never take it back.
**
The only sound in the empty shower room was the constant drip, drip of a leaky shower head. Hanging up his towel, Booker stepped unsteadily out of his boxers and stumbled into the shower. His hand fumbled at the faucet but before he could turn it on, a callused hand touched his buttock. Drawing in his breath, he turned his head and gazed groggily into Carlos Martínez’s black eyes.
“Hello puppy,” Martínez crooned softly against Booker’s ear. “Did you miss me?”
Closing his eyes, Booker let out a sigh as Martínez’s hand reached around and began to stroke his cock. He craved affection, any kind of affection and even though his sexual appetite had dwindled since snorting heroin, he longed to feel the touch of another human being.
Moving closer, Martínez pressed his naked body against Dennis’ back and nibbled at the flesh between his neck and shoulder. “Aren’t you going to fight me puppy?” he asked huskily as he nipped and sucked at the taught flesh. “Or maybe you’ve finally decided that you like what I do to you. Is that it puppy?”
Bracing his hands against the tiled wall, Booker let out an excited moan as Martínez’s fingers skillfully teased his flaccid cock to life. Carlos laughed softly and licked at Dennis’ ear. “Mmm, I think puppy likes it,” he murmured as his erection pressed against Booker’s buttocks. “Do you like this too?” he asked and shifting his position, he inserted the index finger of his other hand into Booker’s anus whilst continuing to stroke at his cock.
When Martínez’s probing finger found his prostate, Dennis let out a gasp and he pushed backwards, wanting more, needing more. Carlos grinned and withdrawing his finger, he pushed the tip of his cock against Booker’s opening. “Ready puppy?” he whispered hoarsely and he dug his fingernails into Booker’s hip.
Dennis nodded, his shallow breathing echoing around the tiled walls. He groaned loudly as Martínez entered him and his body shuddered in anticipation. He was unaware of the prying eyes watching from the doorway, all he cared about was feeling wanted, feeling loved.
Carlos began to rock his hips slowly forwards and backwards, taking his time and enjoying the tightness surrounding his cock. His breathing became raspy and he increased his pace whilst his hand moved over Booker’s cock. “Bark for me puppy,” he panted against Dennis’ neck and he smiled when he heard a soft yelping. That he had so much power over another man caused a shiver of excitement to course through his body and he slammed his cock deeply in and out of Booker’s anus. “That’s it puppy,” he panted. “Bark for your master, good doggy, good doggy.”
Martínez’s hypnotic voice confused Dennis’ already addled mind and he continued to utter low yelping sounds as he felt his orgasm rising. He let out a strangled howl as he shot his semen over the wall in front of him. Seconds later, Martínez swore loudly and burying his cock deep inside of Booker’s body, he found his release. When his body had shuddered out the last of his seed, he carefully withdrew and took a step backwards. Tilting his head on one side, he stared in fascination at the man in front of him. Booker stood with his legs spread and his hands braced against the wall. His head hung low and he was panting in an almost animalistic way as tears poured down his cheeks.
Turning away, Martínez walked over to the wooden bench and pulled on his boxers. In the years he had spent in and out of prison, he had raped many men but none of them had captivated him like Dennis Booker. Looking at him now, gasping like a wounded animal, he wondered if he had pushed him too far. Not that he cared. Booker was a piece of meat, just as the others had been and he would continue to abuse him for as long as he remained within the confines of the jail.
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies