14. Chapter 14

14

R ory peeked over Ollie’s shoulder. “Show-off.”

Ollie laughed and attempted to hide what he was drawing. “I’m sorry that I’ve progressed from stickmen, but you haven’t.”

Rory flapped his sheet of paper. “My stickman battle is epic.”

“It’s childish.”

“I wasn’t an art kind of kid.” Rory narrowed his eyes. “You said you failed at everything at school, clearly a lie.”

Ollie winked. “Everything except art.”

“Where you’re like a mini-Picasso apparently.”

“When I was drawing, or painting…or just creating, it made me feel good, and all of my troubles were gone, just for a little bit.”

Rory swallowed, then gestured to Ollie’s picture. “You’re really good.”

“Thanks… Do you think Teddy will like it?”

Ollie gestured to the front of the classroom. Sebastian and Teddy were sitting together, lounging in their seats as Mrs Mason waited for the room to settle.

“I think he’ll love it.”

“I’m going to give it to him after class. I hope it’ll make up for the maggots.”

Mrs Mason cleared her throat, but it had no effect on the chatter. They only fell silent when one of the officers yelled at them from the back.

Pauly sat a few tables away. Rory ignored his stare and focused on Mrs Mason. Art was supposed to lower stress, increase positive endorphins and offer an outlet for pent-up emotions. Those were the reasons it was offered as a subject in prison. There had been studies about its effectiveness.

Rory found each lesson more humiliating than the last, especially when he was sat next to the star pupil.

“Thank you,” Mrs Mason said. “This will be our last day on these pencil sketches.”

“Thank Christ for that,” Rory muttered.

“Have you volunteered to show your piece to the class?” she asked.

Rory’s cheeks flamed. “No.”

“Stand up and show us.”

“No, thanks.”

Ollie snatched his piece of paper and stood up. “Here it is. Rory’s piece. Or his attempt at one.”

“I hate you,” Rory mumbled with no real heat. Ollie stuck his chin out and lit up with a gloating smile.

Mrs Mason frowned. “And can you explain your picture?”

Rory gestured to it. “It’s nothing, doodles, a stickman battle.”

He blushed.

Sebastian laughed from the front, and Rory’s face filled with more heat.

“Who’s fighting in this battle?”

Rory shrugged. “Two armies, I guess.”

He’d not really given much thought to it, but the more he looked at his own work, the more it looked like everyone was fighting everyone, and it was a big mess.

“Where do you see yourself in the piece?”

Rory frowned at Mrs Mason, then shook his head. “What kind of question is that?”

“Are you in the picture?”

“No, they’re stickmen. They don’t represent anyone or anything.”

“I think Sebastian is in it.” Ollie snorted. He tapped the picture. “This one with the massive coc—”

“It’s a gun.”

Sebastian flexed his biceps. “I’ve got massive guns too.”

Mrs Mason narrowed her eyes and studied the drawing. Rory shuffled in his seat, and his hair stood on end. He didn’t have a clue why, but her judging his random doodles was unsettling.

“Jesus.” Rory smirked, trying for humour. “It’s only a stickman picture.”

Mrs Mason’s smile was full of pity. “Sometimes drawings are a window into our subconscious.”

“Only to crazy people.”

“Hey!”

Rory turned around and looked at one of the officers.

The officer’s arms were folded, and his eyebrow lifted when their gazes met. “Any more of that and you’ll be out, understand?”

“I’ll be happy to leave,” Rory said, snatching his picture from Ollie. He ripped the page in two. “Art never was my thing, and I’d rather not be psychoanalyzed for my lack of skills with a pencil.”

The officer came at him at top speed, grabbed his biceps, then hauled him to his feet.

“You’re going back to the wing.”

Pauly got to his feet. “I’m going too.”

The officer narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Got a bad case of the runs, and I’d rather not shit myself in here and ruin the lesson.”

“Fine.”

Sebastian stood up, but the officer pointed at him sternly. “No, you can wait.”

Rory walked out the door first, and Pauly quickly followed. They walked side by side back to the corridor but didn’t speak or glance at each other. They stopped at the gate, the officer opened it, then they were back on the wing.

“Interesting picture you did…”

Rory rolled his eyes. “Don’t you start.”

“You forgot to draw the red bandanas, though.”

“Whatever.”

Pauly blocked his path. “Do you want to know what my picture was of?”

“Not really.”

“I called it Splats .”

“Splats?”

Pauly hummed. “Yeah, blood splats, all that will be left of Sebastian once we’re done with him.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“And when we’re done with him,” Pauly continued, “there will be no one between me and you. We’ve got eight years together, and we’re going to have such fun.”

He patted Rory on the head, then walked off in the direction of his cell.

Rory hurried up the stairs, then hung his arms over the railings, watching the wing from the second floor. Metal grids stopped anyone hurling objects or people from the walkways, and Rory watched the inmates through a double cage filter.

He counted twelve bandana-wearing inmates and sighed in relief when he saw Captain, still not wearing one. They hadn’t spoken much in the last month. Each time Rory tried, Captain rebuffed him. It hurt. But watching him slowly deteriorate hurt more. He barely came out of his cell and had a gaunt look about him. The officers didn’t care, and neither did the majority of the inmates. They were happy as long as he was no longer screaming the place down in the night.

The gate opened thirty minutes later, and Ollie walked inside with his drawing pressed to his chest. Teddy followed him, tilting his head, trying to catch a glimpse of the picture, but Ollie laughed and denied him. It seemed to be a fun game between them, and Rory found himself smiling as he watched.

Sebastian stepped onto the wing and connected gazes with Rory. He didn’t smile but marched straight to the stairs. Rory went back to watching Ollie and Teddy.

Ollie ducked his head as he presented Teddy with the picture of the butterfly. He’d spent four weeks on it, and Rory hated to admit it was good, more than good. Ollie’s arrogant grinning was justified. Teddy gawped, took the picture, gawped some more, then he reached for Ollie, crushing the picture between their chests as he hugged him.

His lips found Ollie’s ear, and Rory thought he saw them move or press or something .

Hands tugged Rory back, and he didn’t fight against Sebastian. He let go of the railing just as Ollie and Teddy went into their cell.

“Pauly didn’t do anything to you, right?”

“No, he didn’t touch me.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he’s going to hurt you.”

Sebastian chuckled, and Rory turned to him with a fierce glare on his face. “You’ve got to take him seriously.”

“Why?”

Rory pointed to the ground floor. “Because those guys down there are taking him seriously.”

“Pauly’s all posturing, and no action. He won’t do anything, and when I leave, he’ll claim he was ready to take me on, but it was too late. It’s all talk.”

“He could hurt you, Sebastian.”

“Aww, you really are worried about me, aren’t you?”

He pouted. Rory shoved him hard, and his expression changed to one of shock.

“Of course I am,” Rory snapped. “Why do you have to be so good damn cocky all the time? Smiling to yourself like nothing ever bothers you.”

Sebastian blinked. “I get bothered by things, but nothing inconsequential like Pauly.”

“More and more inmates are wearing those red bandanas. Choosing his side over yours.”

“What’s to say they’re choosing his side? What’s to say some aren’t loyal to me and keeping me informed?”

“What?”

“I’ve got everything under control, trust me. Pauly isn’t a threat; he’s just trying and failing to look like one.” Sebastian pinched Rory’s chin. “Stop worrying your pretty little head about it and focus on other things. I loved your picture, very…simple.”

Rory shoved him. “Arsehole.”

“That picture took you three lessons? And did you really do it all by yourself?”

Rory’s glare cracked down the middle. He laughed. “I never said I was good at art.”

“Rightly so, because you’re shockingly awful at art. I bet your dad didn’t put your drawings on the fridge as a kid.”

“He did actually.”

“Out of pity.”

Rory’s mind went back to the fridge when he was a child. Covered in pictures of butterflies and unicorns from Erica, then his questionable squiggles.

He smiled. “Most probably.”

Sebastian laughed. “Shouldn’t have torn it up, I would’ve loved to spot which stickman was me… Ollie said I was the one with the massive weapon, right?”

He pushed Sebastian’s chest, but Sebastian caught his arm, yanking him close. Rory tried to struggle free, but Sebastian didn’t give him up. Rory turned his head back and felt stubble on his nose, the curve of a jaw dipping into a throat. He took a deep breath of Sebastian’s scent, and his stomach fluttered.

“Did you sniff me?”

“No.”

Sebastian ducked and pressed his nose close to Rory’s neck. “You smell good too.”

“I didn’t say you smelled good.”

“I’d better have a shower then.” Sebastian’s smile twitched. “Want to join me?”

Rory shivered at the suggestive tone. “No, I’m all right.”

Sebastian rested his lips against Rory’s ear and whispered in a husky tone, “Want to play chess instead?”

Rory shivered in Sebastian’s arms, and his heart picked up the pace. He licked his lips, then shook his head.

“Not…not right now.”

“Later.” Sebastian winked. “Maybe.”

Rory worked out until he couldn’t think of much other than the burn and overstretch of his muscles. The pain and exhaustion and the fact it was hard to hold a conversation while panting and heaving meant he could block everyone else out.

Ollie had lost interest in Rory trying to kill himself on the running machine and had left to find Teddy, which was perfect. Ollie was part of the reason he was tearing the fibres of his muscles to shreds. Out of nowhere, Ollie had called Rory his best friend before blushing and explaining he’d never really had any friends before and changed his statement to ‘only friend’ and ‘first friend’, and Rory had never wanted to disappear right there and then before, but he’d smiled, clapped his hand on Ollie’s back and tried to argue he had other friends in prison, not just Rory.

Ollie heartedly disagreed, which made Rory feel ten times worse.

He felt like a fraud, a liar, and no matter how things turned out with the assignment, he was going to hurt Ollie. He didn’t hurt people, he wasn’t cruel or malicious, but he was going to hurt one of the sweetest humans on the planet.

“Hey…”

Rory turned his head to look at Sebastian and almost lost his stride. “What?”

Sebastian had strolled in only minutes after Ollie had left, wearing a white tank top and gym shorts. Rory had avoided looking at him for a number of reasons.

“You’re done,” Sebastian said, reaching over to stop the machine.

“I don’t think so,” Rory said as he wiped his brow. He reached to restart the machine, but Sebastian caught his hand. It shook in his grip, for once not from Sebastian being Sebastian but from the shakes that had overtaken Rory’s body.

“You’re about thirty seconds away from collapse.”

“Thanks, Dad .”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes.

“What’s going on?” Sebastian asked.

“Nothing,” Rory snapped. He tried to pull his hand from Sebastian’s, but he gripped on tight. Sweat ran down Rory’s forehead and itched in his eyebrows. “I was working out.”

“The speed you’ve got this machine set to, and the gradient…” Sebastian shook his head. “You can’t keep it up.”

“Watch me.”

“No,” Sebastian said firmly. “I won’t. Get off the machine.”

Rory gritted his teeth.

“Now.”

Rory’s shoulders slumped, and he stepped off, only for his knees to almost give out. Sebastian caught him under the armpits and helped him stand up.

“I’m fine,” Rory said, pushing Sebastian away.

“You’re not.”

Rory ignored him and made his way back to the wing. His weak legs had enough strength to carry him, but they felt spongy, sluggish. Sebastian pursued at a close distance despite Rory repeatedly growling over his shoulder he was fine.

Back in the cell, Rory tried, and failed, to clamber onto the top bunk. He clutched the bed frame, panting while black spots danced in front of his eyes.

“Deep breaths,” Sebastian said, rubbing a hand against Rory’s back.

“I’m fine,” Rory said, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Not once have you convinced me of that.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“What?” Sebastian asked.

“Being in prison.”

“It’s supposed to be a punishment.”

Rory nodded.

“But running until you almost pass out is not a healthy way of coping.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were.”

“It…it felt good.”

Sebastian removed his hand. “Why?”

“Because I couldn’t think of anything else.”

With his legs pounding the machine, he’d been unable to think about betraying Ollie’s trust, and the pain at seeing Captain spiralling, the longing to speak to Erica, the one person in his life who knew and loved him, the deep feeling of failure when he spoke to Hamish and Sebastian… He’d blissfully been unable to think of Sebastian.

The very man stood right in front of him, enquiring about his well-being, the one Rory was trying to bring down. He was the most confusing thing of all.

Rory liked him, and lusted for him, but he was a villain, a danger to society.

While he was punishing himself, he’d been in his own bubble of pain and exertion, numbing him to everything else, and it had felt great, even when he’d begun to feel dizzy.

“It’s like when you—” He caught himself, unwilling to go further. They never spoke about what he and Sebastian got up to in the dead of the night. Some days Rory almost convinced himself it didn’t happen. Sebastian hadn’t trained him to get hard and didn’t stand at the side of the bed and watch him orgasm. It was some messed-up fantasy to do with stress.

“Like when I?” Sebastian pressed.

“When you take control.” Rory swallowed. “When you touch me while I touch myself. I can only think of you and my need to come. It’s not just a release; it’s an escape too. It’s just you, and it’s just me in those moments, nothing else.”

Sebastian nipped his lip. “It feels like that for me too. When I’m watching you, you’re all I can think of. It’s like the world stops for a moment and only resumes again once you’re coming across your chest.”

“I want…” Rory trailed off, shaking his head.

“What do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How do you know you can’t have it if you don’t ask?”

Rory swallowed. “I know I shouldn’t have it. That’s the problem. It’s a bad idea. What I want is a bad idea.”

Sebastian snorted. “What is it you want, Rory?”

“More.”

“More?”

“I want your hands all over me. I want you to touch me properly, bring me to orgasm with your fist, and I want to be able to touch you back. I want to use my mouth on you and make you come.”

“That’s quite a list.”

“I want you to tell me what you like, what you want me to do to you, and I want you to tell me what I’m allowed and what I have to do to get it.”

Sebastian stepped back. His gaze lowered. “You’re right when you said it’s a bad idea.”

Rory’s shoulders dropped. “I know—”

“But I’ve been here sixteen years, and my resolve isn’t what it once was, and if a pretty thing like you asks if he can use his mouth on me so we can both zone out for a while, it’s doubtful I’ll say no.”

Rory blinked. “What?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “It’s preferable to you almost killing yourself in the gym.”

Rory gaped, still unable to process. Sebastian reached for the pillow on his bunk and slipped it onto the floor. He arranged it with his foot, and at Rory’s questioning frown, he explained, “For your knees.”

Rory’s heart quickened.

“Right…now?” Rory asked, glancing towards the door. Sebastian hadn’t even pushed it shut when he’d come in behind Rory. It was open at his back, and Rory could pick out individual voices on the wing.

“Right. Now,” Sebastian replied. “Take it or leave it.”

Rory dropped his knees to the pillow. Tipping forward, he grabbed Sebastian’s hips to keep his balance. Sebastian didn’t steady him. He watched as Rory’s shaking fingers hooked the waist band of his shorts and pulled them down.

“Fuck,” Rory breathed, taking in Sebastian’s hard cock. He flashed a glance up to Sebastian’s face. Sebastian’s icy eyes had darkened, and when his gaze dropped to Rory’s lips, his heart missed a beat.

“Kiss me,” he said.

Rory was about to surge to his feet and press his mouth to Sebastian’s, but a firm hand on his shoulder kept him on his knees.

“Kiss my cock,” Sebastian said.

Rory leaned in and kissed the leaking tip. His lips slipped a little as he went back for more, parting his mouth so he could swipe his tongue against Sebastian’s slit. Rory’s cheeks were on fire, and he was overly aware of the open cell, the shadows and voices that passed.

“Rory,” Sebastian said, scratching his nails against Rory’s scalp.

Rory looked up at him.

“Open your mouth for me.”

He did.

Rory gazed up at him with parted lips, opening them the more Sebastian didn’t react until he flushed all over at how vulnerable he was making himself.

“Keep your tongue flat,” Sebastian ordered. “Stick it out if you need to.”

Rory’s tongue quivered.

“That’s it,” Sebastian said. His voice had dropped lower; he shuffled closer until his trainers were pressed into the pillow cushioning Rory’s knees. He took himself in hand and rubbed the crown over Rory’s tongue, slipping it into Rory’s mouth.

Rory moaned, digging his fingers into Sebastian’s hips as his tongue was coated in precum. Sebastian rocked his cock forward and back, forward and back over Rory’s tongue. The taste of Sebastian went straight to Rory’s cock, the masculine tang filling his mouth with drool.

He liked older men, always had, benefiting from their experience and confidence. They were direct in what they wanted from him, and Rory loved them taking control.

Sebastian Claw was fucking his mouth, pushing a little deeper each time and slicking up Rory’s tongue. He let Sebastian’s cock fill him until his nose was nestled in the hair at the base, and he inhaled his scent, growing dizzy with it.

“What a hot little mouth you have,” Sebastian groaned, pulling out. He wiped his tip around Rory’s lips, chuckling when Rory moved his head to get it back in his mouth.

“Suck the tip,” Sebastian said.

Rory sealed the head of Sebastian’s cock between his lips and sucked in leisurely pulses, loving the taste of Sebastian on his tongue.

Sebastian brushed his fingers through Rory’s hair, smoothing the wayward strands away from his face. Rory’s stomach fizzled whenever he looked up and they made eye contact.

“I’m going to dirty that mouth of yours.”

He moaned and sucked more of the masculine taste of Sebastian into his mouth.

“Look at me…”

Sebastian grabbed Rory’s face, hand on either cheek, squeezing while Rory sucked. Sebastian snapped his hips, angling his cock so it slid against the inside of Rory’s cheek. Rory’s eyes burned from the stretch in his cheek as Sebastian kept nudging, rolling his fingers on the outside.

“God, I can feel my cock in your mouth,” he said, pushing with his fingers. “It could split your cheek apart.”

Rory groaned and kept moving his head forward and back, rubbing Sebastian’s cock against his inner cheek while Sebastian rubbed the outside. He was huge, and the tightness stung, but it felt good. He didn’t care that his jaw was bound to ache the next morning, or that dribble dripped onto his chin.

“Make me come, Rory.”

Rory adjusted his technique, slid his lips up and down, as deep as he could go, and Sebastian started rocking into him. It took a few seconds, but then they found their rhythm and it was perfect.

“That’s it,” Sebastian panted, cupping the back of Rory’s neck. “Keep going. I’m almost there.”

Two more deep thrusts, then Sebastian tipped his head back, moaning as he unloaded. The sound vibrated down his body and along his cock, and Rory answered it with a whimper.

He swallowed everything, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and surged up for Sebastian’s lips.

Hands pressed down on his shoulders, keeping him at bay.

“No,” Sebastian panted.

“No what?”

Sebastian looked a little dazed as he said, “No kissing.”

Rory couldn’t hide his hurt, and Sebastian smoothed his thumb against the frown lines on Rory’s brow. “I don’t kiss.”

Sebastian sat down on his bed and beckoned Rory towards him.

“Drop your joggers,” he said.

Rory yanked them down, unashamed by the sticky mess he’d made in his pants. He hadn’t come, but he’d leaked profusely since the first taste of Sebastian.

“You’re going to fuck my hands, do you understand?”

Rory nodded, and Sebastian held one hand in front of the other, making a tunnel for Rory to fuck. Rory lined himself up and pushed inside. His lashes fluttered at the first thrust. Sebastian’s hands were rough and hard, but it only took two thrusts for them to be wet with Rory’s precum.

“Grip my shoulders,” Sebastian said.

Rory reached for them, holding them so hard it must’ve hurt as he began to fuck himself into Sebastian’s fists. They tightened around him, increasing the pleasure until Rory’s eyes rolled back. His body shivered with chills.

“I’m going to come,” he warned.

Sebastian didn’t tell him to stop, so he rocked his hips harder, losing it to the sensation as he cried out and spilled into Sebastian’s hands. His knees weakened, and his punishing gym session came back to bite him when he dropped down.

Sebastian made a sound of surprise and managed to catch Rory beneath the armpits with his come-covered hands, but he couldn’t stop Rory’s kneecaps from banging painfully into the floor.

“Fuck,” Rory exhaled. He panted and pressed his forehead to Sebastian’s firm chest.

“You good?” Sebastian asked.

“I’m good.”

Sebastian let him go, then got up from the bed to wash his hands. Rory used the remaining strength in his arms to pull himself up the bedframe and managed to crash down on his mattress. His joggers were still around his thighs, and his cheek ached from Sebastian’s cock, but he sighed in bliss and closed his eyes.

He slept through dinner that night.