18. Chapter 18

18

T he kids in Rory’s class bragged about watching horror movies. They tried to outdo each other, claiming to have seen the most violent and frightening movies out there. Erica happened to be a horror movie lover and owned a bookcase full of scary DVDs.

Rory watched them with the volume down, the lights on and Erica within reach. His friends at school didn’t know that, but he acted brave and unaffected in front of them.

He’d foolishly bragged his big sister could sneak him into a screening of Saw . She’d worked at the cinema at the time, and the staff were allowed a few free tickets a month.

Rory couldn’t turn the lights on in the cinema or turn the sound down. Erica had sat beside him, munching popcorn and occasionally giggling at the mediocre quality and the godawful acting. Halfway through, Rory took hold of her hand and squeezed it so tightly he was surprised they didn’t somehow merge into one.

Between the violent flashes of lightning, Erica had turned to him with wide eyes. She’d seen how terrified he was, and without a word, she linked their fingers and pulled Rory from his seat. Rory squeezed his eyes shut, held his breath and trusted Erica to lead him out into the foyer.

They didn’t bring it up again until Rory passed twenty years old. She teased him. Rory accepted it because yeah, he’d been an idiot, claiming to like something he hated, but it was a good-natured ribbing.

Erica had got him out of there as soon as she realized he was in distress.

When he stepped into the morgue at the hospital and tracked his eyes along all the metal doors, he realized this fear that left him breathless was never going to leave him, and Erica wouldn’t be there to pull him away from the horror when it all got too much.

He was completely alone.

“I’ll give you a few moments,” Morris whispered.

Rory stiffened at her voice and gave her a dismissive nod. Hamish hadn’t come with him. He imagined Hamish was elsewhere in the hospital getting his nose fixed.

Rory took another step inside but refused to look at the trolley in the middle of the room. He wrinkled his nose, noted the room smelled clean, fresh, not giving away its purpose at all. The walls were painted white, and the metal doors were polished to a mirror shine.

It was cold.

So cold goosebumps ran down his arms and up the back of his neck.

The morgue itself didn’t fill him with fear, but the trolley did.

There was no creepy groaning, or shadows, or wolves howling, or people screaming.

Thunder didn’t rumble, and lightning didn’t flash.

This horror was real , and Rory took a deep breath before finally looking.

When their dad died, they stood side by side, hands linked. Rory’s fingers twitched, needing that connection, but no one was there to hold him.

True horror wasn’t screaming, bloodshed and fear. It was silence, and no movement. It was seeing someone you loved, there in front of you, but gone. It was holding your breath to hear someone else’s and hearing nothing.

Or pressing your fingers to their wrist for a pulse and nothing tapping back.

It was touching someone and expecting their warmth but shivering at the cold.

Part of Rory had still believed Erica’s death was a nightmare he’d been unable to wake from or a cruel prank by someone who must’ve hated him. Even with Erica in front of him, he didn’t believe it was her, not until he reached for her hand and had to part her stiff fingers so he could link his and hers.

Rory wanted Erica to drag him out of there. He closed his eyes, needing to feel the tug of her getting him to safety, but there was nothing, no pull except the hitch in his chest. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay on his feet for long, so he lay a quick kiss to her forehead with trembling lips and then let go. Rory walked backwards until he hit the wall, then slipped down to the floor.

At some point, someone wheeled Erica away, putting her back behind the mirrored door.

Rory didn’t look up. He sat with his back to the wall, knees up to his chest, and arms hugging them. He thought he’d cry, or scream, and a part of him was ashamed he hadn’t.

The overwhelming emotion was emptiness, a huge, endless cavern in his chest where his grief-poisoned heart had fallen.

“Rory…” Morris whispered.

He didn’t look up at her but replied with numb lips. “What?”

“Here…”

She handed him a coffee, and he wanted to hurl it, to shout at her, to cry tears into the cup and make it even more bitter, but instead, he took what Morris offered and cradled it in his hands. It didn’t fight off the chill. He was numb through and through.

“Thank you.”

Morris didn’t leave. “She looked peaceful.”

And that much was true. Erica’s cause of death had been blunt force trauma, but the blow had been to the back of her head. On the table, Rory hadn’t been able to see the injury. If it wasn’t for the shockingly pale complexion, Rory might’ve been able to convince himself she was sleeping.

“Is…is there someone I can call?” Morris asked.

Rory frowned. “I don’t have anyone. I’m on my own.”

“At least let me arrange you a cab.”

Rory glanced up. “Where would I go?”

“Home.”

“What home? I have no home. I have no one.”

Morris averted her gaze. “What if I… We could—”

“We? There is no we. You hate my guts.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” Rory cut in before she could say anything else. “The only people I’ve got left that mean anything to me are inside that prison, and that’s where I want to go.”

Morris shook her head. “You can’t go back there.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“Sebastian’s out next week. It’s over. You played your part—”

“I still have a week of feeling something before it all goes dark, before I truly have nothing.”

“You…you can’t be serious. Rory—”

“That’s what I want,” Rory snapped. “I can’t process any of this.”

“Being in prison won’t help.”

“Yeah, it will, and I’m sure Hamish won’t protest.”

“This isn’t a good idea.”

Rory shifted, no longer leaning against the wall. He kneeled in front of Morris. “Please. You kept this from me, both of you. The least you can do is allow me this small piece of happiness. Take me back.”

Morris cast him worried looks the whole drive back to the prison. He snorted at the window. If she was worried about him, he must have looked bad. It was dark, and the streetlights flickered like they did in horror movies, but strangely, it didn’t bother him.

If a monster burst from the darkness and took his life, he’d thank it.

It would be a mercy.

The car came to a stop. Morris turned to him. “Rory, you don’t have to—”

He got out of the car before she could finish, and she hurried after him. She grabbed his biceps and walked him to the door to reception.

“What do they know?” Rory asked.

“You were granted a compassionate visit to pay your respects. I’m your escort from another prison.”

Rory nodded, then slipped through the first gate. Morris didn’t leave his side, and he hissed at her to go.

“Wait…”

She took him aside by the gate that led to the hospital wing. “This is crazy. You are in shock. You need—”

“What I need is to be back inside,” Rory replied. He gestured to the corridor and the metal bars at the end. “This is home. It’s the only one I’ve got left, and I know you don’t understand that, but please don’t take it away. Don’t take them away.”

“Them?”

“The people in here. I’m not ready.”

“You are not a criminal, you are not in here for drug charges. You’re here to spy on Sebastian. You’re a police officer.”

“I’m not really one of them, am I? I’m a cheat, a liar, a deceptive arsehole, and I need to be in there, with the other cheats, liars, and arseholes.” He managed to smile, but it was brief and didn’t reach his eyes.

A prison officer strode around the corner. He paused, eyeing them. “Do you need some help, Miss?” he asked.

Morris shook her head. “No, I—”

“I’m supposed to go back onto the wing,” Rory said.

The officer nodded. “I’ll take him from here. He needs to be searched before he goes back.” Rory didn’t glance back at Morris, and she didn’t try to stop him from going.

The officer took hold of his arm and pulled him deeper into the prison, down corridors, through gates. He was strip-searched, then redressed to go back on the wing. Rory was numb to it but did as he was told.

The inmates were already in their cells, and the lights were off. It seemed like in the space of a blink, he was outside his and Sebastian’s cell door.

He was home.

The key clunked in the lock, and the door swung open. Rory couldn’t see anything when he stepped inside. The floodlight shone on his bed and the corner of Sebastian’s pillow. The door locked behind him, but he didn’t hop onto his bed. He waited.

Sebastian stood up slowly, then came closer. His eyes were wide and searching.

“Rory?”

That was the moment Rory allowed himself to cry. The concern in Sebastian’s voice, whether real or fake, was enough to break the dam on Rory’s emotions. He brought his hands up, slapping them into his face as he caught his tears.

“Come here,” Sebastian breathed.

Sebastian pulled him into a hug. Rory shoved his face into his neck, clutched on, and took a deep breath. Sebastian was warm under his hands, his heart was thumping hard in his chest, and Rory could hear him breathing, his soft voice repeating Rory’s name. He clutched Sebastian, and Sebastian held him back harder.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not,” Rory murmured.

Sebastian brushed his thumb against the nape of Rory’s neck. His eyes drifted shut at the sensation, then they snapped open. He didn’t deserve to feel nice; he didn’t deserve to be comforted, especially by this man, this man he was betraying.

He went from grabbing Sebastian to pushing him away, but Sebastian didn’t let go.

“Hey,” Sebastian mumbled. “Don’t…”

“Let me go.” Rory struggled. He managed to get a hand between them and shoved Sebastian’s chest.

“No,” Sebastian said firmly. “You’re staying right where you are. That’s where you want to be and that’s where I want you to be, so give it up.”

Rory sunk back against Sebastian’s chest and pressed his face so securely to Sebastian’s neck it hurt his nose. He didn’t care. He cried and only stopped when he felt wetness on his chest. His tears, and whatever else, had run down Sebastian’s front.

He shuddered. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine.”

Sebastian pulled Rory over to his bed. “Sit down.”

Rory did as he was told and shuffled back until he was against the wall. Sebastian offered him some tissue, and he wiped his eyes and nose.

“Thanks.”

Sebastian sat next to him, then pulled the sheet over their laps.

“Want to talk about it?”

Rory shook his head. “Not really.”

“That’s okay, we can sit for a bit.”

Rory closed his eyes when he felt Sebastian’s arm snake around his neck and tug him close. He couldn’t help himself; he leaned into the comfort offered to him. His puffy cheek came to rest against Sebastian’s chest.

“I’m on my own,” he said softly.

“No.” Sebastian squeezed. “You’ve got me.”

“Only for a week.”

Sebastian sighed. “Ollie told me you knew the girl in the article.”

Rory nodded. A sob threatened to choke him. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry you found out like that.”

“I should’ve known. I feel shit that I didn’t know.”

“If no one told you, how could you have possibly known?”

Rory shook his head, then tapped his chest, the place where he had a vast emptiness instead of a heart. “I mean, I should’ve known. I should’ve felt something, knew something was wrong.”

“You don’t have some sixth sense.”

“I guess not.”

Sebastian hissed in sympathy, then reached for Rory’s hand. “What the hell did you do to yourself?”

“I had an argument with the wall.”

“Who won?”

“The wall, but it was close.”

Sebastian laughed lightly and rubbed his thumb over Rory’s knuckles. “It’s going to be okay, Rory.”

“No, it’s not, it won’t be okay. I can’t think of a single way any of this is going to end well.”

“What are you talking about?”

“But I don’t have to face that, not yet. I’d rather think about the now , not the future.”

Sebastian dropped Rory’s hand, then pressed the back of his fingers to Rory’s forehead. “What’s going on in here?”

He shoved Sebastian’s hand away from his face and straddled him. Sebastian stilled, then he shook his head in disapproval.

“Rory…”

“Kiss me.”

Sebastian’s smile was pained. “Do you really think a kiss will make you better?”

“Not in the long run, but maybe for a little while. Please , just let me have that little while. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Sebastian eyed Rory’s lips, and Rory closed his eyes, waiting, but the only kiss he got was brief and on his tender cheek.

“A proper kiss.”

Sebastian exhaled. “I can’t do that.”

“Please.” Rory opened his eyes and clutched Sebastian’s shoulders. He pressed his forehead to Sebastian’s. “Please, I won’t ask ever again, I swear. In a week…in a week, you’re never going to see me again.”

“Rory—”

Rory swooped to connect their lips, but Sebastian’s hands shot up and caught his chest. “Stop…”

“Please, Sebastian.”

Sebastian shook his head, but his gaze dropped to Rory’s lips. His eyes darkened, and his hands slipped from Rory’s chest and found his hips.

“Please,” Rory murmured, getting closer. “I need this. I need you.”

Before Sebastian could protest again, Rory pressed his lips to Sebastian’s. Not kissing, there was no suction, their lips just rested together.

Short, sharp breaths left Rory’s nose, his heart punched in his chest, hard enough to make him dizzy, and the darkness in the cell seemed to make everything worse. Sebastian wasn’t kissing him, and he’d never needed someone to kiss him that badly in his life.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Sebastian mumbled.

His words vibrated off Rory’s lips, making them tingle. Rory didn’t reply; he stayed perfectly still, mouth touching Sebastian’s. Not kissing, but touching, resting, waiting. A tear ran down his cheek, but he didn’t move; he didn’t brush it away, and it fell between them.

Rory didn’t know how long they sat like that. There was nothing to judge time against in the dark. He wanted Sebastian to kiss him, to open his mouth and take the pain away, even if it only lasted a few minutes.

Sebastian opened his lips millimetre by millimetre until Rory’s bottom lip slipped between his. The first touch of Sebastian’s tongue on his lip made Rory gasp and reach for Sebastian’s hair.

Rory didn’t kiss but waited to be kissed, knew it was coming, knew Sebastian was weakening to his demands, to his tease, to the temptation he’d plastered to his mouth.

“Fucking hell, Rory.”

Sebastian’s lips shook Rory’s bottom one, his words caressing him without meaning to, kissing him with vibrations.

“Please,” he whimpered.

Their breaths mingled, and Rory’s left him in heaves, but Sebastian’s were calm and soft. Rory felt at home between Sebastian’s lips, but he wanted more. He wanted them to move, to bully his apart, for his tongue to slide in and tease him.

Sebastian’s hand shot up, gripping Rory’s jaw. He used his thumb on Rory’s chin, opening his mouth up for a deep kiss.

He knew Sebastian had brushed his teeth not long ago, but he didn’t want the minty freshness; he wanted the taste that lay beyond it, the taste of Sebastian, and Rory chased it.

He kissed harder and invaded the mouth against his. The heat and glide of Sebastian’s tongue sent pleasant tingles through his body. It needed to be hard, deep, and messy. The mint faded, and what was left behind was the pure, unfiltered taste of Sebastian. Rory didn’t know someone could taste so good. He was whimpering around Sebastian’s tongue, desperate for more as he ground his hips down on him. Rory was still dressed, but Sebastian only had his boxers on, and it was clear he enjoyed what Rory was doing to him.

“This”—Sebastian bit Rory’s lip—“isn’t a good idea.”

“I don’t care.”

Rory tightened and relaxed his hands in Sebastian’s hair, grabbing and releasing, confirming to himself he was really there, really kissing him and Sebastian was kissing him back.

“Tell me I’m good,” Rory whispered.

“What?”

“Tell me I taste good, or feel good, or something, please . I need to know I mean something to you. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

Sebastian pulled his mouth away. “You, Rory, mean a lot more to me than you know.”

He pushed Rory down to the bed, and he didn’t protest. He fell on his back, and Sebastian started on his clothes. He tugged at his T-shirt, and Rory lifted himself up so Sebastian could yank it over his head.

He ducked down for a chaste kiss, then got to work removing Rory’s pants, and then his boxers, even his socks. Rory shivered when Sebastian gazed down at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sebastian breathed. He pinched one of Rory’s nipples, and he jerked.

“Sebastian, I need—”

“I know what you need.”

He leaned forward, pressed his lips to Rory’s, then reached under the pillow for the Vaseline pot.

Sebastian encouraged him to bend his knees, and Rory tilted his pelvis, making it easier for Sebastian to prepare him. They hadn’t had sex in weeks, and they’d never had sex in that position, missionary.

Sebastian prepared him with fingers first, and that was almost Rory’s undoing. Sebastian’s gaze snapped between Rory’s face and his fingers pushing in and out. He bit his lip, sinking three inside. Rory squeezed against him.

“God, Rory,” Sebastian groaned. He removed his fingers and knocked Rory’s knees apart so he could lay down on top of him.

When Sebastian sank inside him, Rory’s eyes rolled, and he released a low moan. Sebastian eagerly swallowed the sound with a kiss, just as Rory’s hole swallowed his cock for the second thrust. He pressed his body close, slipped one arm behind Rory’s neck, and pinned Rory’s hand to the mattress with the other.

Rory turned his head and lifted his chin until he could see their hands. Their fingers were entwined, and it brought tears to Rory’s eyes. Sebastian held Rory down, subtly flexing his hand, squeezing Rory’s, a reassuring squeeze that lessened the hollowness in his chest.

Sebastian rocked into him slowly, brushing Rory’s prostate.

He lifted his face away, hovering over Rory’s. The beam from the floodlight shone on his expression—awed and hungry. Rory imagined he wore the same expression, but with his came another emotion. An emotion that should’ve never come to be there, but he couldn’t deny it. There was no powerplay, no games; it was two men, and it was sex, but it was something more too.

The way Sebastian was looking him in the eye as he pressed inside, and the way Rory answered that look with his own, had to mean something.

Sebastian’s cock slid deeper; the feel of it was too intense. His thick cock pinned Rory’s most intimate area, forced it to flutter until he couldn’t think straight. He wanted it to be faster and slower all at once.

Words left his mouth, pleas and begs.

Sebastian kissed them all away and slipped his tongue inside Rory’s mouth in time with his cock. He was utterly pinned, and helpless, and he loved the feeling of being like that for Sebastian.

Rory loved the sparks of pleasure jolting in his cock, and the taste of Sebastian in his mouth. He felt the building orgasm, the growing pressure in his prostate, and the tingle in his cock. Rory’s mouth went slack as he started to feel detached from his surroundings, and he was unable to reciprocate Sebastian’s slow kiss, but the taste of him registered on his tongue and the smell of him soothed each jagged breath through his nose. He couldn’t squirm; Sebastian pressed down on him, stopping him. He’d reached the point of no return, wanted to warn Sebastian, but his mouth was too busy being teased and tasted, and he couldn’t form the words.

His legs trembled wildly, and his knees pressed into Sebastian’s sides.

The physical feeling was enough, but when Rory linked gazes with Sebastian again, it was as if Sebastian reached into the hole in his chest and wrapped a hand around his heart and forced it to beat again.

He’d fallen for Sebastian Claw, and in that moment, he convinced himself he could see the same love looking back at him.

“Let go, Rory,” Sebastian murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Rory closed his eyes and gave in.

The orgasm was so powerful Rory saw white light behind his eyes. His whole body tingled with an intense rush, then the sensation imploded, collapsing away to one point, one sensitive point in his body that overloaded with ecstasy.

He moaned, long and deep, when he came, and Sebastian caught the noise in his mouth, then he eased off and waited for Rory to catch his breath. Their chests were covered in Rory’s release, and Rory found it oddly satisfying to see his cum dripping drown Sebastian’s stomach onto his.

“Do you want me to stop?” Sebastian asked, breathless.

Rory shook his head. He was still floating on the waves of pleasure, drifting out to sea, and he wanted Sebastian to join him. “No, I want you to finish in me.”

Sebastian’s plump lips crashed down on Rory’s, fighting them open. He didn’t hold back; he quickened his pace and dominated Rory’s lips.

Rory shuddered and gasped while Sebastian lapped at his mouth, stealing his breath. Rory’s hips found rhythm with Sebastian’s, and the cell filled with the sound of slapping flesh and pants and gasps. Sebastian kissed him hard, and Rory’s lips felt puffy and oversensitive, but he couldn’t get enough of Sebastian’s mouth on his, sucking, nipping, rubbing.

Sebastian stiffened, and Rory knew he was close. He grabbed the back of his head and crushed their mouths together so he could suck on Sebastian’s tongue.

Sebastian jerked as he came, spilling into Rory.

They panted in between kisses, and after Sebastian had slipped free of Rory’s body, he kept on kissing and clutching Rory’s hand, fingers firmly locked together.

Rory didn’t ever want to let him go.