20. Chapter 20

20

T hey narrowly avoided a bus, which swerved and tipped from the momentum.

The crash as it hit the ground, followed by the ear-splitting sound of it scraping against the tarmac, dropped Quinn to his knees. He gaped, imagining the casualties. Car horns were blaring, people called out, and Quinn could still pick out the sirens, although they became muffled by other noises, fading while the van whipped past other vehicles and left help behind.

Quinn's heart thundered behind his ribs, and his breathing hitched. It didn't feel real. He dug his nails into his palms, wanting to wake up, pressing so hard crescents of blood appeared.

Virgil's mind was chaos, and he left chaos in his wake.

Zane thumped on the door of his cubicle, demanding to know what was going on, asking Quinn to confirm he was unharmed and pleading with Virgil to put an end to the madness.

Virgil couldn't hear him, and Quinn had quickly learned telling Zane he was okay didn't calm him down in the slightest. Zane threw his weight at the door, cursing under his breath when the lock wouldn't give.

Quinn struggled back to his feet. He gripped the back of a seat, the one Cleo had been sat on earlier, as he pressed himself to the window separating him from Virgil.

"You have no plan," he said.

"I'm going to find him," Virgil barked back, flashing a furious look at Quinn over his shoulder. "I'll kill anyone that gets in my way."

"I'm not trying to get in the way of you finding Luca—"

"Good."

"But you have no idea where he is. I doubt…I doubt he's even in this country anymore."

Virgil's shoulders sagged. "Somebody knows where he is."

"Somebody," Quinn agreed. "But I've got no idea who. Listen to me, I know how much he means to you—"

"You have no idea, Quinn, no idea."

Virgil took the next turn, emerging onto the roundabout without bothering to check if it was clear. A lorry slammed on the breaks. Quinn could smell burned rubber in the air as Virgil put his foot down again, leading them away from the hospital, away from the city.

"Now shut up if you know what's good for you, I need to think."

They passed fields, and woodlands, and Quinn listened out for sirens, but there were none.

"I need him," Virgil said softly. He took them down a track road. The van bounced and tilted, but it didn't fall. Virgil drove them into the shade of the trees and stopped, throwing Quinn forward. He caught himself on his hands against the front of the van. "Do you know what it feels like without him?"

"I could guess…"

Virgil glanced back. "Then guess."

"Chaos."

"Chaos," Virgil echoed. "I feel like my brain is on fire, Quinn. It's always been on fire, always festering with darkness, but he was the light. He turned down the fire. He made me feel more than it, made me feel…content."

"I saw…in the scanner, I saw the difference when you thought about him."

"Occasionally he wasn't enough, the bloodlust got too much, and I allowed the fire to flourish. I used it, I used him, I'd find these men that would dare to take him from me, and I'd prove to them and myself that they just couldn't. In the end, it was my mistake that took him away. I got caught. Have you any idea what it feels like to be without him? I don't even know where he is, if he's okay, if he's even alive , and they're never going to tell me, and it tears at me, it gnaws away, and I can't stand it."

Zane threw himself at the door. The plastic creaked but didn't give.

Virgil continued, "The only reason I haven't ended my life is because he might be out there still, he might need me, and I can't stand the thought of leaving him behind."

He twisted in his seat to face the window. Virgil looked past Quinn. "He thinks I'm going to kill you."

"Quinn!" Zane yelled, throwing his body at the barrier again. "Say something, goddamn it! What's happening?"

"He thinks I'm going to unlock the back of the van, dig my fingers into your flesh until I can hook bone, then pull you apart."

Quinn swallowed. He looked back for a weapon, but he only had his laptop to potentially swing at Virgil's face.

"I won't lie to you," Virgil exhaled. "It's a pleasant thought, tearing you apart, listening to your bones crack and your blood drip."

"I'm not a threat to you," Quinn said in a rush. "I'm not after Luca. I'm not one of your victims. I'm a psychologist, and you agreed to take part in my study."

"Where is he?" Virgil asked.

"I don't know."

Virgil flexed his hands on the wheel. "But do I believe you…that's the real question."

"I'm not police, I'm not crime investigation. I have no idea where Luca is."

Virgil glared at Quinn. Then, he flung open his door. He dropped down, out of sight.

"Virgil," Quinn blurted, backing off from the window. Sticks crunched as Virgil stepped round the van, stopping in front of the door to the back.

Zane crashed into the barrier between him and Quinn, and the plastic around the lock broke, sending it flying. He staggered, knocking into the side of the van before regaining his feet and gripping Quinn's arm.

Quinn found himself pulled back, yanked behind Zane, who stared down the door, breathing hard.

"I swear," Zane said. "I'll kill you if you open it."

Virgil snorted. "Zane, Zane, Zane. You haven't killed anyone. You're not going to start now." He sighed. "I believe you, Doctor Quinn, but if I find out you lied, or that you knew more about Luca than you led me to believe, I will hunt you down. I will kill you, and I'll carry your head around with me as a trophy."

Quinn's breath stuttered. Zane backed into him, pinning him to one of the locked cubicle doors behind.

Virgil didn't speak again, he'd gone, but they both didn't take their eyes off the door as they panted for breath. Minutes ticked by. Quinn checked his watch. Ten minutes had passed with Zane standing before him, pinning him whenever he tried to wriggle out.

"Shit, Quinn," Zane exhaled. "What is it about you and the crazies, huh? One tried to choke you, two want to kill for you, another one kidnaps you." He shook his head. "Seriously, your next study, pick something nice, something about rainbows and unicorns."

Quinn slipped down to the floor and caught his head in his hands.

"Hey," Zane said, crouching beside him. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Did you hit your head at all?" He brushed a hand through Quinn's sweaty hair, searching for an injury. "Talk to me."

"I'm not hurt," Quinn murmured against his palms.

Zane tried to pry Quinn's hands away. "You're safe. I promise. He's gone. I won't let him—"

"People got hurt," Quinn gasped. "They got hurt because of me."

"No, Virgil—"

"He was out of Greenwood for my study, Zane. Cleo, Simon, Clint, what if he…"

Zane pulled Quinn's hands away and gripped them tight so he couldn't cover his face again.

"Listen to me," Zane said. "This… It wasn't your fault." He pushed his forehead to Quinn's. "Don't torture yourself with what-ifs, okay." He lifted his head. "They'll find us soon enough, then we'll know what's going on."

A tear rushed down Quinn's cheek. Zane made a pained noise and wiped it away with his thumb.

"Come here," Zane said, pulling Quinn into a hug. At first, Quinn resisted. He didn't deserve comfort when potentially a bus load of people were fighting for their lives, but he gave in and pressed his nose to Zane's neck and breathed him in.

Zane shushed him and brushed his fingers against Quinn's nape. They sat like that on the floor of the prison van for a while before Zane pulled away.

"Please say you bought water."

Quinn nodded, pointing to a bottle towards the back. They'd gone everywhere during the drive. He'd bought four in total, and it took a moment for him to point them all out to Zane, who reached for the closest one. Zane unscrewed the lid and offered it to Quinn.

He blinked at Zane.

"Drink. It," Zane said, lifting up one of Quinn's hands and making him take it. "It's hot as hell in here."

Quinn took the bottle and sipped the water while Zane crawled to the front and grabbed another, which had got wedged beneath Cleo's chair during Virgil's escape.

"It's the hottest July 3 since records began," Quinn said, echoing Cleo from earlier that day.

"And don't I believe it," Zane said, tipping his bottle back. He took great big gulps of water, then closed his eyes. "And I decided to wear jeans ." He cracked an eye open. "I'm going to remove my vest. Don't get too excited."

Before Quinn could come up with any kind of protest, Zane had lifted his vest up and over his body before dropping it in his lap. He let out a content sound as he pressed his bare back to the plastic door behind him. "I can feel you looking," Zane said coyly.

"Glad to see this near-death experience hasn't changed you," Quinn muttered, drawing his knees to his chest.

Zane hummed. His smile faded. "I think this study has changed you, though."

Quinn turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"When was the last time you looked at the stars, Quinn?"

"What has that got to do with anything?"

Zane shrugged. "When was the last time you went over to your allotment or went out with friends or spoke to your mother?"

Zane had him there. It had been a few months since he'd gone to the allotment, and he imagined his patch full of weeds and brambles, but that didn't motivate him to go over and correct the issue. He chose to ignore it. There were unread messages on his phone, some from months ago, but he'd been putting off replying.

And his mum…he couldn't remember the last time he'd sent her a text let alone spoke to her.

"I've been busy," he said. "This study—"

"It's supposed to be a job, not your whole life. It's taking over."

"Are you seriously psychoanalysing me right now?"

"Someone has to. Someone has to pull you back from the brink."

Quinn shook his head. "There is no brink."

"You didn't like the way Gemma looked at me, did you?" Zane cocked his head, studying Quinn's reaction. "You didn't like how she pushed into my personal space or how her hands lingered on my body, and for a split second, there was a darkness in your eyes that reminded me of Virgil."

"I'm nothing like Virgil."

"I know that, but do you? Or are things starting to feel a little blurred? Are the killers you've surrounded yourself with for six months starting to rub off on you?"

Quinn hung his head. He remembered the spike of hatred at Gemma, the hot roll of jealousy washing over him, and his self-disgust when he realised what it was.

He sympathised with Noah, and even at one point, no matter how fleeting, thought Darren deserved that agonising death for what he'd put Noah through. Even Noah hadn't thought that, but Quinn had. It was wrong of him. He'd shut it down, but it had surfaced from somewhere, jumping to the forefront of his mind.

And with Harris, he noted down his lack of a response to horror, whether images or sounds, when Quinn himself had started to go numb in the face of them. Doctor Hart and the nurses had all been affected, but not Quinn, who used them again and again with no reaction.

His breath hitched when he thought of lying down in the scanner himself, running his own experiment and coming out of the machine with a similar result to Harris, a psychopath . He lifted his hands. His palms were sweaty, and the red crescents he'd cut into his skin with his nails stung.

"I'm turning into one of them."

"No," Zane said firmly. "You've been around us too long, that's all."

Quinn took off his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt. He slipped it from his shoulders and hissed in pleasure when his bare back touched the plastic behind him. Zane bit his lip, eyeing Quinn as he panted.

"What?" Quinn asked.

"I know it's completely inappropriate, but—"

"Forget I asked," Quinn said, taking another sip from his bottle. "We really don't need inappropriate right now."

Zane snorted, bumping his shoulder into Quinn's.

"How far do you reckon Virgil will get?"

Quinn sighed. "I don't know. But for Luca's sake, I hope he's found fast."

"So that's love, is it?"

"No." Quinn met Zane's eyes. "I don't know what that is, but it's not love."

Zane looked at Quinn for a long moment. "I'll…I'll take your word for it."

He soaked his vest in water, then began dabbing it up and down his chest.

"How long until we die from the heat?" Quinn asked.

"Do you really have to be so doom and gloom?"

"Or maybe sooner than that if Virgil comes back."

"Hey." Zane gripped Quinn's thigh. "I'm not going to let him hurt you."

"Why not? You could run away while he's busy with me."

"Do you really think I'd do that?"

Quinn lowered his gaze. "No. I don't."

"But it's nice to know what you're considering if he goes for me first."

Despite the situation, Quinn burst out laughing. He pushed his shoulder back against Zane's and smiled as he said, "I'm not the fastest runner."

"I'll do my best to take my time dying."

Quinn shook his head. "This is so—"

"If you say inappropriate, Quinn, I'll…I'll…" He glanced around the van. "I'll do something unpleasant, just give me a chance to think of it."

Quinn leaned his head back, allowing his eyes to slide shut for a few seconds. "How long until they find us?"

"I don't know, but I've seriously got to get out of these jeans." Zane stood up and faced away from Quinn as he picked the top button open, then tugged on the zipper. He got them halfway down his legs before remembering he should've removed his trainers first.

Quinn snorted at him, and Zane pulled off his socks, rolled them into a ball and threw it at Quinn.

"Hey…"

"You deserved that," Zane said, raising his eyebrow. He dropped his jeans on the floor and turned around. Quinn swallowed and avoided looking at Zane, who was only wearing a pair of tight black boxer shorts.

"Ahhh," Zane said. "That's better."

Quinn fixated on Zane's toes curling, then relaxing against the floor. He slipped his shoes and socks off soon after, but he kept his trousers on despite the material sticking to the back of his legs. Being practically naked with Zane was dangerous, and they had no idea when they'd be found or who might fling open the door and catch them being inappropriate.

"You'll be more comfortable if you take them off," Zane said.

"I'm fine."

"Sure," Zane said. "So how should we pass the time, other than the most obvious thing to do…"

"Zane…"

"I said other than." Zane smirked. "How about ‘I spy'?"

Quinn groaned and fell to his side. His cheek ended up against the cooler floor, and he sighed, and let his eyes shut as he shifted to lie down.

"It's nicer like this."

Zane moved to lie down next to him, both of them on their sides, facing each other. The van was long enough for them to stretch out.

"Now isn't this romantic," Zane said.

"Lying on a filthy floor?" Quinn lifted an eyebrow.

"I've fallen asleep in worse places."

"I believe that."

Zane poked him.

"You could've been hurt." Quinn swallowed. "You might still get hurt if Virgil comes back or if we're not found in time. The heat in here, it's—"

"We're going to be okay, Quinn. Trust me."

Quinn closed his eyes, panting for breath. The air inside the van felt thin and unsatisfying. He gasped when Zane pressed his wet vest to Quinn's brow, dabbing it on his cheeks and his neck. He stretched out his throat, encouraging Zane to caress him more, and while Zane did, Quinn's mind went back to Mackie.

Zane had pulled Mackie from him and kissed him afterwards in his cell in the seg unit. He'd acted concerned, and that had been a constant throughout the six months. He'd expressed worry over Damon, demanding Quinn change the locks to ensure he was safe. Then, in the van, he'd broken out of his cubicle, using his shoulder as a battering ram, and pulled Quinn behind himself to face down Virgil.

Quinn reopened his eyes to find Zane watching him with concern. His participants had rubbed off on him, and that meant Zane had too. Seductive, confident Zane, who gazed at him, soaked in sweat and breathing hard from the heat. Shame had reared up in Quinn the first time he saw Zane. His attraction had been immediate, and obvious, and unprofessional, but in the back of the prison van, waiting to see what fate had in store for them, Quinn didn't care about being professional anymore. Even if they survived, he wouldn't be like this with Zane again.

They'd never be together alone again.

"It's going to be okay," Zane said softly. "We'll get out of here."

Quinn shifted, leaning forward, and brought his lips to Zane's. It was a gentle kiss, sweet, but Zane cursed like it was dirty and surged forward with an open mouth.

Zane moaned into the kiss, cupping Quinn's cheek, slipping his tongue over Quinn's bottom lip to take his mouth. Quinn let him. He welcomed his tongue with his own and drew back to suck Zane's lips.

"There was me trying to be good," Zane breathed against Quinn's cheek.

"I don't need good right now." Quinn nipped Zane's bottom lip. "I just want to feel alive. I want to feel you. I need to. Even if it can only be once."

Zane tore his mouth away, glancing at the top of Quinn's trousers. He undid them with a twist of his wrist, then yanked them down. Quinn didn't want the confines of his clothes, not like both times in the cell; he wanted his skin, all of his skin against all of Zane's and shoved down his trousers and boxers until he was bare.

"Fuck," Zane said, flipping onto his back. He made short work of removing his boxers, kicking them off to join Quinn's somewhere towards the front of the van, neither of them paying attention to where their clothes landed.

Quinn clambered over Zane, knocking his knees as he straddled Zane's thighs. Zane sucked on his bottom lip as he stared at Quinn sat on top of him. His gaze jumped from Quinn's blushing pink nipples to the thumping pulse at the side of Quinn's throat.

Quinn stroked a hand over Zane's damp chest hair, then followed the whirl around a nipple with his fingertip. Zane's hips flexed in response, and he moaned when Quinn rolled the nipple between his thumb and finger, tugging just enough to make the nub redden.

"No pixels," Zane whispered, smiling smugly.

Zane's cock was long and thick, arching against his belly. It was the first time Quinn had seen it, and he ghosted his fingers along the gentle curve. He rubbed the wet head, then leaned down to blow against the tip. Zane's thighs stiffened beneath him, and he sucked in a breath and held it. Quinn shuffled down and leaned forward to flick his tongue up Zane's shaft before sucking on the head. He sucked until Zane dripped onto his tongue and pulled back at the insistent tug on his hair.

Slack-mouthed, Quinn looked down at Zane. His cock was the same red as his pinched nipple. Zane exhaled the breath he'd been holding, chuckling slightly as he drew his knees up and reached a hand down for Quinn's aching cock.

Quinn groaned, leaning back against Zane's thighs as he was slowly stroked from root to tip.

Zane worked his caged fist over Quinn's cock, picking up speed. Quinn shook his head. Zane slowed his strokes down again.

"What is it?" he asked.

His voice sounded strained.

"If this is the last time we get…" Quinn wiped the sweat from his brow onto his shoulder. "Then I want you inside me. I want to feel you."

"I don't know if that's a good id—"

" Please, Zane."

"God, when you say my name like that, I'll do just about anything." He met Quinn's eyes. "We'll have to be careful with you."

Quinn's heart ached in his chest.

"We'll have to take our time getting you ready, understand?"

Quinn did. They didn't have lube, only spit, which shouldn't have been as much of a turn-on as it was, but when Zane sat up, dropping spit into his palm, Quinn shivered.

Zane pulled Quinn flush to his chest, then reached around him, sliding his finger down Quinn's crack to get to his hole. Quinn whimpered, dropping his forehead to Zane's slick shoulder as he was fingered open. It was slow, so slow Quinn nipped at Zane's skin in frustration, but Zane kept spitting onto his hand, kept working his fingers in and around Quinn's hole to loosen him up. One teasing finger became two, and Quinn panted wetly against Zane's skin, letting him take control.

Three fingers hurt. Quinn hissed, pulling his face from Zane's shoulder. Zane kissed his cheeks, his wet lips, and his sweaty brow. The wait got too much, and Quinn pushed Zane back down again until he was flat on the floor.

"Are you sure?" Zane asked.

Quinn nodded, spitting into his own hand to slick up Zane's cock.

"I'm sure," he breathed.

He took Zane into his body, shivering at the raw stretch. It was slow going; Zane's groan was low and rumbling as Quinn took him all the way.

"Holy shit, Quinn," he breathed.

Zane's eyes slid shut, and Quinn couldn't resist the weight on his own lids as he closed his eyes too and focused on the sensation of Zane being all the way inside.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he gasped, lifting onto his knees. "I'm fucking you, I'm fucking Zane Black."

"In a prison van of all places." Zane chuckled breathlessly.

"Yeah," Quinn moaned, dropping down on his cock. "In a prison van."

Zane's smile slacked as Quinn took him in again and again. "How inapp—"

Quinn slammed himself down, cutting off Zane's words. It hurt, more than he was expecting, but it was worth it to hear the catch in Zane's breath.

"Enough," Quinn said, and he couldn't resist leaning down to suck a mark into Zane's neck while riding Zane's cock in long, slow strokes.

Quinn whimpered, threading his fingers through Zane's hair.

"Kiss me," Zane demanded, lifting his hips from the floor and fucking Quinn back.

Their tongues rolled together, teasing each other. Their wet skin slid together. Moans were swallowed. Zane forced his arms between their slapping bodies, finding Quinn's cock. He took hold and began jerking him off. It was going to be quick. Quinn needed it to be, not from fear of getting caught; he just wanted to let go, bask in his orgasm.

Quinn broke the kiss to moan softly as he came between their bodies, cock jerking trapped in Zane's fist. He clenched down, enhancing his own pleasure as his insides quivered. Zane soon followed, throwing his head back and lifting his hips as he impaled Quinn. Zane's cock throbbed deep inside, lashing his load, then he slumped, and Quinn collapsed on top of him, gasping.

It was hard to catch their breaths afterwards. They shared a bottle of water between them, then rewetted Zane's vest to dab their skin. Zane found a sock to clean Quinn's sticky cum from his chest hair. He threw it out of sight, then collapsed beside Quinn, both of them still naked.

"You okay?" Zane asked.

Quinn shifted, wincing slightly. "I'm good." He licked his lips. "We should put our boxers on at the least."

"In a minute," Zane said, closing his eyes. "I kind of like being naked with you. It's comfortable."

"Or maybe we've just got heatstroke."

"There is that possibility too." Zane snorted, then threw an arm over Quinn's shoulders. He pulled him close and pressed a kiss to his temple. "If that's the case, then long let it continue. It feels pretty damn great."