15. Chapter 15

15

Z ane wasn't dressed in his usual dark jeans and white vest top. He wore grey joggers and a grey sweatshirt. Prison issue. His eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Quinn, still frozen in the doorway.

Cleo and David were saying goodbye to each other behind him. The door to the segregation unit latched, and the seal around the door made a sucking sound. David sang softly under his breath as he strode into the officers' box.

That door didn't close, but Quinn hadn't expected it to.

"Are you going to stand there the whole time?" Zane smirked.

"It seems safer that way."

"You didn't come down here to feel safe, did you?"

Quinn glanced over his shoulder. David had sat down at his desk and picked up a file. He was frowning as he flicked through, still mumbling out a song Quinn didn't know.

"Zane…this is a bad idea."

Zane clacked his tongue. "You knew that before you came down here, but you still came."

And it was true. There was no denying it wasn't. He knew what might happen inside the cell, more than that, his stomach flipped at the thought of it, his pulse fluttered and his blood surged in his veins, leaving him dizzy at times and overly aware at others.

"You want this…"

Quinn shook his head. "I don't even know what this is."

"Must we play games?"

"I don't know. Must we?"

Quinn had hated his new interview room and the partition between him and his participants. He hated the distance, he hated their voices slightly distorted by the microphone, and the reflection on the glass sometimes hiding their expressions. But not with Zane. The new room had been a blessing with Zane because if it hadn't been there, if they'd still been in the room together with the blind spot…Quinn didn't know if he would've been able to stay professional.

Zane stood up, and Quinn tensed. He didn't pull Quinn further into the cell, but he took the folder Quinn was holding from him with ease and returned to the bed.

"So what are we doing today, Doctor Quinn?"

Zane opened up the folder and frowned at the questionnaire. "Surprise, surprise." He glanced over. "Have you got a pencil?"

Quinn snapped into action, pulling it from the top pocket of his shirt. He moved to the bed and sat down, leaving a healthy distance between them.

Zane snorted as he eyed the space between their thighs. "You could park a bus in that."

"It's a clear line," Quinn said. "Makes it easier that way. Nothing inappropriate can happen if we stick to our sides of the bed."

"That sounds like a challenge."

"Zane…"

"Why did you come down here, Quinn?"

Quinn gestured to the folder Zane held. "The study."

Zane grinned. "The study," he echoed, then began filling out the questions.

Quinn tried not to watch Zane, but it had been over a month since he'd seen him up close, no reflection of lights on his face, no barrier to hide his scent. Quinn could even hear his soft inhalation and exhalation and the scratch of his nails on his facial hair when he itched his cheek.

Zane kept catching Quinn in the act of admiring him and would glance up or smile.

"Is it difficult?" Zane asked.

"What?"

"Being this close to something you want and knowing you shouldn't have it?"

Quinn didn't answer.

"I find it very difficult," Zane murmured.

Quinn shifted away another two inches. Zane paused with his pencil on the paper but didn't turn to Quinn.

"Two buses," he murmured, then continued with his task.

Zane completed the questionnaire and rather than hand it to Quinn, he slotted it into the folder and dropped it on a space on the bed behind them.

"Now what was it you said?" Zane hummed. "Nothing inappropriate can happen if we stay on our sides of the bed."

"That's right."

Zane leaned back on his hands, displaying the front of his body. There was no missing his erection clear as day through his grey sweatpants.

"Fuck," Quinn cursed, trying not to look at it. He twisted and reached for his folder, but a firm tut from Zane made him pause.

"The folder's on my side." Zane smirked. "Now we can keep playing this game where you pretend this wasn't what you wanted, that you didn't come down here with expectations.

"I came down for the study."

"You're a terrible liar, Quinn. We've only got twenty minutes left, so I suggest we crack on."

"Crack on?"

Zane hummed. "Yeah, and you can make my birthday wish come true."

"And what was it you wished for?"

"I can't tell you that, but you can say I can have it, and we'll go from there."

"I can't say yes if I don't know what I'm saying yes to."

Zane leaned in, stretching over the space Quinn had made between them. He glanced at Quinn's mouth, then up to his eyes. "Sure you can. Just say I can have it. I promise you'll like it."

"I…"

"Eighteen minutes."

"I don't know why I'm here," Quinn blurted.

"Sure, you do, seventeen…and a half."

"But…"

"Seventeen and a quarter. Say I can have it."

"Zane."

"Quinn," Zane leaned even closer. "Stop fighting me. Without knowing what you're saying yes to, you know you want it. You want it badly."

Quinn swallowed.

Zane rested his hand on Quinn's thigh, and gave him a squeeze.

Quinn's breath caught, and the denials melted away.

"Fifteen minutes—"

"You…you can have it," Quinn murmured.

He should've resisted, but he just couldn't.

Zane smiled, then he slipped from the bed. He dropped down to the floor, shuffled closer, before resting both hands on Quinn's thighs.

"Oh God," Quinn whispered, all his blood rushed south at that singular sight of Zane Black on his knees.

Zane opened Quinn's legs and knelt between them.

"You'll have to watch the door," Zane murmured. "And you'll have to keep yourself quiet today."

"Zane, I—"

"Fourteen minutes."

Quinn bit his lip, halting any more protests. Zane read that as an encouragement and picked open the catch on his trousers. Quinn shivered when Zane made eye contact and ran his tongue up the zip.

Zane leaned back. "Does it turn you on, seeing me like this?"

Zane on his knees would turn anyone on, but then he elaborated. "Back in my prison greys." He yanked down Quinn's zip. "After being caught red-handed up in my cell."

Quinn slapped his hand to his mouth, watching the door, heart in his throat in case David appeared just as Zane tugged his trousers and boxers down enough to release the pressure on his crotch.

"I won't stop," Zane said softly. "Not even if David comes over. I'll blow you in front of him. I don't care. I've been thinking about it all week ."

He took the head of Quinn's cock into his mouth and sucked. There were too many clothes. Quinn still had his trousers and boxers on, and there wasn't much room for Zane to work, but the rub of cotton on his cock, the catch of the zip against his pubic hair, made the soft suction to his tip even more intense.

Quinn eased himself back until his shoulders were against the wall. He needed both hands to muffle himself, and Zane was right… The prison issue clothes, the wild look about him, even Zane's bent bare feet on the concrete were adding to the thrill.

Quinn lifted his hips from the bed, and the smile he got from Zane was wicked. He pulled Quinn's trousers and boxers down his thighs, exposing Quinn's cock fully. Zane wasn't satisfied with Quinn's clothes at his knees; he tugged until they were around his ankles, then pressed a knee down on them, pinning them to the floor.

"Knowing you shouldn't be doing this makes it feel that little bit better, doesn't it?"

Quinn wanted to protest, but Zane slid his lips down his cock, taking him deep, soothing the irritation from the rubbing cotton. It was heaven. His mouth was warm and silk-like, sliding up and down Quinn's cock in a steady, sure rhythm.

Quinn's eyelashes fluttered when he imagined what it must look like from the doorway, the scene that would greet David if he happened to check on them early.

He lay awkwardly on the bed, smothering his own mouth with both hands, flaring his nostrils as he tried to take in enough oxygen to stay conscious. His trousers and boxers around his ankles, nailed to the floor by Zane's knee, and Zane, all in grey, swept-back hair coming loose as he bobbed his head, relentlessly sucking.

It was wrong, obscene, but Quinn couldn't stop his eyes from rolling back in his head. The pressure steadily building had hit a peak of no return, and Zane brushing a hand beneath Quinn's shirt and locating a nipple sent him crashing over the edge. It was a sharp sting followed by such intense pleasure Quinn's hands slipped from his lips, and he let out a moan. Zane pulled his mouth from Quinn's cock, eyes wide as he slapped a hand to Quinn's mouth.

Quinn's cock jerked pitifully without a hand or a mouth, shooting cum that landed out of sight. Zane stiffened, watching the door with wide eyes. They both waited for footsteps, but none came.

Zane exhaled a long breath and lifted his hand. "It's like you want to get caught with your cock in my mouth." He chuckled. "I'm going to have to gag you next time, aren't I?"

Quinn shut his eyes. It shouldn't have sounded as hot as it did.

"You taste really good, Quinn," Zane murmured. He licked a drop of cum from Quinn's slit.

Then his mouth was on Quinn's a second later, and he let Quinn taste what he did. At first, Quinn cringed at the bitter taste of himself in Zane's mouth, but Zane kept coaxing and guiding, and reluctance flipped into a desperate need to kiss deeper, and taste longer, and Quinn clutched at Zane.

Zane was still kneeling on the floor, thigh sticky with Quinn's cum. The prison greys, the fact Zane was lower than him, stretching to reach his mouth, made Quinn groan and move out of reach, tease with sweet kisses Zane wanted to deepen. He could've stayed kissing Zane like that, breaking off just to look at his face, his blown-wide pupils and his slightly parted lips.

Zane pulled away first. "Three minutes."

Quinn checked his watch. "Shit."

"You'd better pull up your boxers," Zane said, backing off. He stood up. Cum glistened on his joggers, and he reached absent-mindedly for the toilet roll.

"What about you?" Quinn asked, eyeing Zane's trapped cock.

"Don't worry about me." Zane smiled. "I'll deal with it…over the course of a few hours while I replay this…and the time before." He squeezed himself. "Turns out the whole birthday wish isn't complete bullshit."

Quinn eyed the door as he stood. He pulled up his boxers and trousers, fixing the catch before tucking in his shirt. "That's seriously what you wanted for your birthday?"

Zane hummed. "To make you feel good, yeah. It was hot, seriously hot. Hell, if David had strolled over, I doubt he would've stopped that. He would've watched you shiver and shake with your hands over your mouth, trying so hard to be good for me."

"Zane…"

"Inappropriate, right?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Right."

Zane sat down on the bed and passed the folder to Quinn.

"Why?" Quinn asked. He shot a helpless glance at the door. "Why do this with me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You told me ages ago if you wanted sex, you could get it in here."

Zane nodded. "And I also told you none of my fellow prisoners, or the prison officers for that matter, interest me."

"But I do?"

"Yeah."

"But why?"

"Are you fishing for compliments, Quinn?"

"Zane."

"I like you." Zane looked away. "It's not ideal, I know."

"Nothing about this is ideal."

"But it doesn't make it any less true. I like you."

Quinn ran a hand through his hair. "This is fucked up."

"It is, and by the anguish on your face, I suspect you like me too."

"You're a participant in my study."

Zane nodded.

"You're a prisoner."

Zane continued to nod.

"You killed two people."

Zane stilled. He looked away again. "As I said. Not ideal."

"It's almost over," Quinn said. "The study."

"I had a feeling it was coming to an end, but all good things do."

He squeezed Quinn's hand, then let go.

David tapped on the door. "Time's up, gentleman."

Zane smiled. Then he winked. "Thank you for cheering me up on my birthday, Doctor Quinn."

Quinn looked at Zane for a long moment, then squeezed past David to exit the cell.