11. Chapter 11

11

“ I hope you’ve got something for us,” Morris mumbled.

Another month had passed since they last spoke. A month of heavy breathing, slicked palms, and toe-curling orgasms. He couldn’t resist getting himself off whenever Sebastian offered him Vaseline, and on the nights Sebastian didn’t appear by his bed, pot in hand, Rory ached with frustration.

“Rory!” Morris snapped.

Rory bit his lip. “I…I heard him on the phone.”

“And?” Hamish grunted.

“I didn’t hear who was on the other end, but they were talking about Jameson’s farm. Sebastian wants someone to buy it, or a piece of the land or something.”

“Did you hear any figures?”

“He said 250,000. Could’ve been talking money, could’ve been talking about the minutes until he’s out. I don’t know for sure.”

Morris shook her head. “Jameson’s farm? Who the hell is Jameson?”

Rory finally pulled his gaze off the desk and looked at Hamish. His moustache was patchy, his skin was pale, and when he wiped his hand down his face, Rory noticed his wedding band had gone.

“I know who Jameson is,” Hamish muttered.

Morris gawped. “Who?”

“He has a farm near my house, owns the fields behind my garden.” Hamish gritted his teeth. “Bastard…”

“You think he’s buying the farm?” Morris asked.

“Maybe.”

“Why the hell would he do that?”

“To torment me, to run his shady deals opposite me.”

Morris looked at Rory. “You need to get that phone.”

“He doesn’t keep it in the cell. The officers have searched it twice more since I last saw you. It’s not there.”

“Well, he’s keeping it somewhere!”

Hamish picked at his moustache. “Did he say anything else, any hint who he was telling to buy the farm?”

Rory shook his head. “No, that was all he said, and I haven’t heard him on the phone again.”

“Shit,” Hamish hissed, pacing behind the desk. “I’ve got to stop whatever he’s planning.”

“That’s the problem,” Morris muttered, throwing her hands up in the air. “We don’t know what he’s planning.”

“You have to get hold of that phone, Rory,” Hamish said.

“I’m trying.”

Morris snorted. “Well, not hard enough. Ask him.”

“What?”

“Ask him if you can use it.”

Rory shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“You’re friends now, aren’t you?”

Rory flared his nostrils. “I can’t ask to use it… He’ll want something in return.”

“Then give it to him.”

“Morris,” Hamish said firmly. “Enough.”

Morris turned away.

“I’ll try, okay,” Rory said.

“Do more than try,” Morris snapped. “Get that phone.”

Rory hung his head as he was escorted back to the wing. He’d tried to be upbeat when he’d spoken to Erica, but she could tell something was wrong, and he’d cut the call short.

He released a slow sigh and waited for the gate to clunk.

He’d been there four months, and each week that passed, he felt more and more like a fraud. A fraud to Ollie, who waited eagerly for him each morning, a fraud to Captain, who worked hard to train him up, a fraud to Sebastian, who made him smile and offered his protection with no catch, and a fraud to inspector Hamish, who’d helped him in his moment of crisis.

His heart, and mind, and even his needy cock were tripping over each other, and he was betraying them all.

“Hey, we’ve got twenty minutes until art starts.”

Rory couldn’t raise his head to look at Ollie. “I’m not feeling it.”

“Oh, come on, Mrs Mason says we’re going to start something else today.”

“I’m feeling pretty rough.”

“We can stay down here instead. See if we can grab a pool table?”

Rory shook his head. “No, you go to art.”

“But—”

“You get on with those guys, Green and Jack.”

Ollie scrunched his face. “Yeah, they’re okay, but—”

“No buts, I’m not going to stay down here anyway. I’m going to lay down for a bit.”

“You sure?”

Rory didn’t reply. He squeezed Ollie’s shoulder, then carried on walking. He hurried up to the second floor and into his cell. He kept his head down and didn’t even glare at Pauly when he commented on how good his arse looked.

Rory lay back on the bed, linked his fingers over his stomach and closed his eyes. He listened to the muffled noise coming from the wing and could tell when lunch was served.

The excited chatter suddenly quietened, and then he heard the slam of cups and trays when it was all over.

“Ollie’s worried about you.”

Rory cracked an eye open and looked at Sebastian. “I’m feeling rough, that’s all. Did he get to art class?”

“Yeah, he went off with a big smile on his face, but he stopped by my table and told me you weren’t doing so good.” Sebastian pursed his lips and stepped further inside the cell. “And if Ollie’s worried about you, then so am I.”

Rory bit his tongue when another surge of guilt turned to acid in his stomach. “I’m fine.”

“First, you’re feeling rough, now you’re feeling fine. You had your visit with your lawyer today—is everything all right?”

Rory pressed his hands to his face and didn’t reply. He didn’t hear Sebastian come any closer, but fingers closed around his wrist.

“Hey…”

Sebastian eased Rory’s hands away from his face. “Talk to me. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “You always seem so anxious before he visits, and you’re miserable afterwards.”

Rory didn’t confirm or deny it. He tried to roll over, but Sebastian grabbed his shoulder and stopped him. “You don’t have any visitors…”

“What?”

“You’ve been here over three months now, and you’ve never had a visit.”

Rory blinked. “Neither has Ollie.”

“Ollie killed his dad… Makes sense his family might shun him, but what’s your story? You’ve only called your uncle once while you’ve been in here.”

“You know I called my uncle?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. I thought you’d have realized that by now.”

“My parents are dead.”

Sebastian nodded awkwardly, then mumbled, “No siblings?”

Rory hesitated, thinking of Erica. “No.”

“That explains the lack of visits.”

“My mum died when I was three, I can’t even remember her, and my dad died eighteen months ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Sebastian squeezed Rory’s linked hands. “Were you close to your dad?”

Rory didn’t look Sebastian in the eye. “Yeah. He was a good man, a great dad. I just wanted to make him proud, live up to the expectations he had of me.”

“How did he die?”

“Cancer. There wasn’t anything the doctors could’ve done.”

“Is that why you lost your way?”

Rory frowned. “What do you mean?”

“After your dad passed, is that when you started with the drugs, dealing? Did you spiral?”

Rory pulled his hands away from Sebastian’s and rubbed his fingertips into his stinging eyes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he murmured.

Sebastian tried to pry his hands away again, but Rory didn’t let him.

“He’d be ashamed of me if he could see me now.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“I’m an idiot, and a liar, and I’ve made a mess out of this.”

“Out of what?”

Rory shook his head. “My life.”

“We’re all in here because we’ve messed up, but most of us haven’t messed up our whole lives. You’ve got eight years, and then you can think of a way of turning it around, making your dad proud.”

He wanted that more than anything. His dad would want Rory to do the right thing. He’d want him to help bring Sebastian down before he could hurt anyone. Despite his heart and mind being tugged in all different directions, he knew what he had to do. He just hated the thought of doing it.

“And you’ve still got your uncle, right?”

“Right.” Rory bit his lip. “Sebastian…can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

Rory removed his hands from his face. “That phone…”

Sebastian checked behind himself, then came closer. “What about it?”

“Could I use it?”

Sebastian exhaled through his nose, grimacing. “Why?”

“To call my uncle. I’m all out of phone cards, and I…I don’t want our conversation to be overheard.”

Sebastian glared at him.

“Please,” Rory whispered.

“Okay… I can’t stand you sounding so sad.” He bent down, tugged up his pants, and retrieved the phone from his sock. “Don’t worry, they’re a clean pair.”

Rory snorted and took the phone. “Thank you.”

Sebastian tilted his head, then reached out and cupped Rory’s face.

He traced Rory’s cheekbone with his thumb, swiping away a stray tear, then mumbled, “No problem. I’ll stand watch outside. When I start coughing in a hysterical manner, it means you should hang up, hang up and come perform the Heimlich on me.”

Rory laughed, and Sebastian backed away. He pulled the door shut as he left, and Rory turned his attention to the phone.

No contact numbers, no messages, no call log. There was nothing left on it; Sebastian had covered his tracks. Rory huffed, tapping the phone on his chin. Sebastian was expecting him to talk to someone, and he thought about faking a conversation, but he needed to call someone .

He pressed in a number he knew by heart and bit his lip as he waited for it to connect. One day it wouldn’t, but he gasped when he heard his dad’s voice, telling him he couldn’t get to the phone right now and to leave a message.

The phone beeped.

“Hey,” Rory said, then scrunched his face up. “I really fucking miss you.” He slapped a hand to his mouth and, as if on instinct, blurted, “I’m sorry for swearing. I know you hate it. I just… I wanted to make you proud of me, and…I don’t think what I’m doing right now would. I’m sorry for not being who you want me to be.” He left a pause, not knowing why, then cleared his throat. “I love you, Dad.”

He ended the call and dropped the phone on the bed.

Sebastian started coughing outside the cell, and it got progressively louder. Rory snatched up the phone and hid it inside his pillowcase.

The door swung open on a stern-faced officer.

Rory placed his hand on his stomach. “Feeling rough.”

“You keep this door open.”

“I’m sorry.”

The officer glared at him, then backed away. Sebastian walked in a minute later, folded his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows. “Done?”

Rory handed the phone over, and Sebastian promptly crouched and slipped it down his sock.

“Feeling any better?” Sebastian asked.

“Not really.”

“Who did you call?”

Rory averted his gaze. “My uncle, but it just went to voicemail.”

“Next time maybe.”

“Do you…do you have people on the outside?”

“A few close friends that are eager to see me but no family as such.”

“What were you like on the outside?”

Sebastian snorted. “I wanted to make as much money as I could as quickly as possible.”

“And did you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sebastian winked. “I’m sorted for money.”

“Dirty money?” Rory whispered.

Sebastian leaned closer. “Absolutely filthy. Now come on, you missed lunch, but I had Vince save you a few bits. You’d better go down and eat them before we’re locked back in our cells.”

“You got someone to save me something to eat?”

“Sure did, now get down there and eat it. You’ll need all the energy you can get for our chess session later.”

Rory couldn’t help himself; he smiled.

Rory lay in bed and waited patiently for Sebastian’s cue. His heart beat harder and faster the longer he had to wait, and he did all he could to calm his breathing. Rory never knew when it was going to happen, but he was always ready, always hard, always listening intently to the bed below.

He didn’t know whether it was a night of relief, or not.

Sebastian was impossible to predict, but Rory longed for the nights he got out of bed, offered the Vaseline pot, then disappeared from view. Those nights were intense, and his cock ached with anticipation every time.

They stroked themselves at the same time, and Sebastian’s erotic gasps and grunts went straight to Rory’s cock. He held his breath and listened to the sounds from the bottom bunk for as long as he could take it, but his desire hung on a thread and he gave in, only needing a few pulls on his cock to send it off.

He was always much quicker than Sebastian, and his cheeks flamed afterwards, but Sebastian never commented on his eager dick.

“Night, Rory.”

Rory closed his eyes and scrunched the sheet in his hands. It wasn’t a relief night, and the alternative was worse. Rory had to convince his cock to go down. He had to ignore the fact Sebastian was lying underneath, naked. He had to lie in the dark and not think about how badly he needed to cum and how Sebastian’s breathing changed when he got closer and closer to orgasm and how sexy that was.

It was torturous.

Sure, he could still jerk himself off, but at some point, and for reasons unknown to him, he’d given Sebastian control over his orgasms. He gave Rory the go-ahead, and he also denied him. They never spoke about it, but that was the dynamic between them.

Rory’s eyes stung as he stared up at the ceiling, and his fingers went numb clutching the sheet. It felt like it took hours for his cock to soften, then he sighed, closed his eyes, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

The room was still dark, and Rory couldn’t understand why he’d woken. He was still tired and groggy, but his crotch tingled. He blinked in a daze, then froze when he heard it.

A slow scraping.

Not completely with it, he moaned at the sound of the pot being opened in a slow, deliberate manner. The sound had fed into Rory’s subconscious and gone straight to his cock, and he woke up hard.

The frustration, the ache, it was so intense Rory pressed his lips together not to sob.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Sebastian whispered, and he wasn’t beneath the bed but standing beside it, face close to Rory’s pillow.

“Sebastian,” he breathed, shifting his hips a little.

His boxers rubbed against his hard cock at the movement. Rory looked down at himself, not covered by a sheet but flat on his back with his boxers leaving little to the imagination. He moved his hand, about to grab the sheet to cover himself, but Sebastian’s eyes were hard and his voice was harder. “No.”

Rory swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

Sebastian’s expression softened a fraction. “Why are you sorry, Rory?”

He blinked, still not completely with it. “I don’t know.” He glanced down at his body, his twitching cock.

Sebastian lowered his voice. “Never be sorry for that.” He licked his lips. “I’m surprised that worked.”

“What worked?”

“Training your dick like a dog.”

Rory’s stomach fluttered. “You…you pulled the sheet off me?”

“I did, then I played with the pot and watched you stiffen up.” He sucked in his bottom lip, then let it go with a groan. “And it was hot as hell, and God , did I want to touch you.”

Rory weakly flexed his hips. He closed his eyes in a long blink, trying to get himself to calm down.

“Do you like that idea?” Sebastian asked. “Me touching you while you’re still asleep?”

“Yes,” Rory exhaled shakily. “But…”

“But what?”

Rory’s cheeks burned. “I won’t last long.”

Sebastian smirked. “I don’t imagine you will. But I can edge you.”

“Now?” Rory asked with a hint of desperation.

“Not now.” Sebastian grinned. “You’re awake. We’re talking about you being asleep, but I’m not heartless.”

He had the Vaseline pot and scooped some out, smearing it over Rory’s left palm.

“You can get yourself off as long as you don’t mind me watching.”

Rory widened his eyes. “You want to watch me?”

Sebastian nodded. “Don’t worry about putting on a show for me. I know you’re a quick finisher.”

The words didn’t sting like Rory expected them too. Sebastian was mocking him, but he didn’t care when his cock was aching and his fingers cramped with the need to touch himself, but no one had ever watched him before.

Something must’ve shown on his face. Sebastian frowned. “You’ve jerked off in front of partners before, right?”

Rory had jerked off others, sucked others, and they had done the same to him, but he’d never let them watch him use his fist on himself.

“That’s a no then,” Sebastian said with a snort. “I’ll leave you—”

“No,” Rory blurted before Sebastian could duck beneath the bed. “Stay, but I won’t… It won’t…. I’m not…”

“Just touch yourself, Rory.”

Rory whimpered and reached into his boxers—he couldn’t help it—and he pulled himself out and wrapped his hand around cock. He didn’t look away from Sebastian as he flicked his wrist, too wound up to do anything more than a fast up-and-down motion.

Rory gasped when he came, and the warm lines of cum decorated his chest. Sebastian didn’t look at Rory’s cock or his hand or his cum. The whole time his dark eyes were fixed to Rory’s, then he ducked beneath the bed with Rory still panting.

“Night, Rory.”

Nothing else was said.

Rory wiped his stomach with his sheet and tried to go back to sleep.

In the morning, Sebastian didn’t say anything about their midnight escapade, instead he gave Rory a look. His eyes sparkled, his lips twitched with smugness, and he oozed so much confidence Rory felt aroused and ashamed at the same time.

It was only physical, a needed release, completely natural. He reasoned with himself all day long but couldn’t reason with the fact he wanted more.

He wanted Sebastian to touch him.

He wanted to touch Sebastian.

His head, his heart, and his cock were all tugging him in different directions, and he was losing his mind with it.