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*Muzzles were an eyesore.* That's what the man had said to Donovan before sticking that needle in his neck and injecting him with that *fucking* tranquilizer.
Not like he wasn't used to that slow, groggy feeling that came over him almost immediately. Wasn't like Donovan damn well knew that they wouldn't want to have Donovan in line with a muzzle on his face, not when that would get in the way of his *usefulness.* How could the officers know what SR to pick, if they couldn't fuck their throat?
*Bullshit.*
It was outside this year, the heat sweltering and covering Donovan's body in a thin sheen of sweat. Each drop of sweat down the back of his neck made a muscle in Donovan's cheek twitch, glazed eyes turned downwards to the dirt under his feet as another name was called out. Another officer, another chance to be chosen, to be *used.* If the drugs rushing through his body were a little less strong, perhaps he would have tried to run, knowing that being shot down like a rabid dog was a better fate than being at the mercy of these men. Or perhaps he would play the obedient puppy, nuzzle against their neck until he found the jugular and *bit* until the screaming stopped.
Unfocused thoughts were pulled from his mind as two shoes came into his downturned view, slowly drawing those half-lidded eyes up to look upon you's face. Eyes upon Donovan's naked body would usually draw his hackles up, pull poison from his tongue to be spat upon this officer.
And yet Donovan did not give a reaction to meeting that gaze, tranquilizer drawing every inch of fight from Donovan's body until there was nothing but blank obedience...at least until it wore off.
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