Shadowman (Alabaster Penitentiary Book 5), page 14
My stomach twists up like a contortionist as I peek at Luthor. His eyes are wide, unnerved, but curious as he nods slowly. “Okay…”
Ren locks his gaze on Luthor’s, taking a deep breath, preparing himself to drop a bomb. I’m not breathing. “Lex, I’m… sorry.” He blinks slowly, posture relaxing a bit, like a ton of bricks just came off of his shoulders.
Ren goes on with his apology, and I just sit across from them, staring. Listening to Ren confess this shit that the rest of us already knew, as if it’s some great revelation.
In a way, I guess it is. Because for him to actually admit this stuff and to be honest… It’s a big deal for our friend, the compulsive liar.
The way they’re gazing at only each other has me growing uneasy, shifting in my seat.
I shouldn’t be here for this…
This is a private relationship conversation. Why am I listening to this?
“So…” Ren clears his throat when he’s done with his monologue. “You have the floor. If there’s anything you’d like to, um… contribute. To this, uh… dialogue.” He’s fumbling, and it’s kind of adorable.
He has no idea how to have open communication. With anyone, really, but especially with someone he has feelings for.
I can relate.
Luthor’s lashes flutter. And then he glances at me, a brief, pleading look in his eyes, like he’s asking me for help. Like I’m a part of this conversation too, and it’s confusing as shit.
Here I was, thinking I should quietly slink away and give them space. But now they’re both looking at me, as if I have any fucking say in what’s going on between them. It’s weird, and fully verifying of my ongoing, very reluctant involvement in their tumultuous relationship.
I can do nothing more than give Luthor some telepathic advice…
Just be honest.
Clearly, it’s a do as I say, not as I do type thing.
“I guess I appreciate your apology,” Luthor says to him, reticently. “If it’s true…”
“It is.” Ren nods.
“I like that you’re finally acknowledging how batshit psycho you’d be if I did even a fraction of the stuff you do.” Luthor goes on, pointedly, slanting his head.
“I was never very good at math, baby.” Ren smirks, his hands slinking across the table, going for Luthor’s.
It’s one of his standard moves. Distract with physical contact to control the situation and avoid emotional intimacy.
But Luthor isn’t having it. He rolls his eyes, tugging his hands away. “Stop. I’m always the one who has to sit back and watch you doing fucked-up shit. I just wish you knew how that felt for once…”
I’m zoning out again until Luthor says, “Look at you and Kang, for example.”
My spine stiffens at mention of my name.
“You guys have sex, in the showers, right in front of me…”
Um… Am I supposed to weigh in?
Lips parting, I can feel heat rushing up my neck into my face.
“I’m pretending it’s you,” Ren whines in defense, and my jaw clenches.
Okay…
Luthor flips up his hand, dismissing Ren’s argument. “That’s irrelevant. It’s not me, okay? Everyone knows it isn’t. I mean, shit… What if I hooked up with Kang in front of you?”
My eyes widen, head slanting at the trajectory of this conversation.
“You think me just saying, ‘But baby, I’m thinking of you the whole time,’ would really make you feel any less murdery about it??”
I’m still just gaping at them, frozen in awkwardness. But I have to register that Luthor has a point… One that basically derails Ren’s whole proxy rationalization.
Sure, he absolutely does pretend his proxies are Luthor—I would know. But still, it’s a weak-ass justification for sexual infidelity.
Ren is squirming, and Luthor is clearly basking in his victory. Until Ren breathes, “Fine.” He winces, like he’s swallowing something gross. “You can… hook up with Byron. In front of me. And I won’t… interfere.”
Wait… What?!
For a second, I think I’m hearing things.
There’s no way he actually just said that, right?
I mean… He did not just volunteer my body to prove some kind of point…
Bulging eyes flinging to Luthor, I find the same shocked expression I’m undoubtedly wearing. It’s exactly the look you’d expect from someone whose boyfriend just told him he wanted to be cuckholded.
“Come again??” I burst into the conversation, because I cannot possibly stay quiet for one more second. This is entirely ridiculous. “We’re doing what now??”
As usual, Ren is nothing but casual, his nonchalance weaving me in tight frustration. “You two fool around, and I’ll just sit there and take it. So I’ll finally know how it feels…”
He’s still talking only to Luthor. They’re literally arguing, back and forth, about something that directly involves me… Without involving me at all!
What in the actual fuck?!
It’s driving me insane. I’m still so baffled, I’m not even listening to what they’re saying anymore. I’m just sitting, fuming, in my seat, rage bubbling up higher and higher.
Typical. This is so fucking typical of the two of them, I swear to God…
Always using me as some kind of bargaining chip, or buffer, or… fucking emotionless sex toy with no thoughts or feelings, here just to help them figure their shit out!
When I hear Luthor’s tone shift from appall to as if he’s actually considering it—the smart one!—I have to speak up again.
“Excuse me?! Do I have a say in this??” I glare at Ren. “Now you’re pimping me out to other people, too?? Unbelievable…”
Ren gives me one of those patronizing looks. “No one’s forcing you to do anything, Byron.” Gaslighting me with that charming fucking tone, like I’m a child and they’re my fucking parents. “I’m just saying, I think it might be helpful.”
For WHO?!
“Well, shucks. How romantic…” I snap sarcastically, my eyes damn near rolling out of my skull. “For you guys! I’m glad I can be of service, just offering up dick to whoever needs it for dumbass fucking experiments.”
I rake my fingers through my hair, amazed at the audacity of these two. That I’m even having this conversation feels completely ludicrous.
But then there’s this teeny, tiny flicker in the pit of my stomach… At the notion of being needed. It’s fucking psychotic…
But I mean, who else are they turning to for this shit?
Who else has what it takes to sit here and deal with these morons… The patience, and the composure, and the… sexual fluidity? Apparently?
“Dude, it’s okay,” Luthor scoffs. “This whole conversation is stupid. We’re obviously not doing it, so don’t worry—”
Oh, now we’re not…?
Because you said so??
“I’m not worried,” I hiss, jaw tight as I glare at him. “What, you think I’m afraid to hook up with you?”
Luthor is visibly stupefied. “Uh… no… I don’t think you’re afraid. I just know that you’re not—”
“Not what?” I growl, brow cocking. “Gay??”
Ren leans in and whispers, “Are you?”
Maybe. “No!” I snap. “But I’m not afraid of touching some dick. I’m not afraid of shit.” I launch out of my seat. Furious determination powering my actions. “In fact, let’s go. We’re doing it. Right now.”
Yea. Didn’t expect that, did you?!
They share a look of sheer disbelief, and it buzzes through my muscles.
That’s right. Your move, bitches.
“Wait, now??” Luthor gasps.
“Yes, now,” I grunt. A command. “I don’t care. I’ll save your stupid relationship. My dick is like the fucking Red Cross at this point.”
The more they protest, the more my stubbornness takes over, until I’m ready to do just about anything to prove how fucking casual I am.
This shit doesn’t affect me. I’m fine.
I’m so fucking centered, I’m basically magma.
They’re the babies. I’m a sexual Dalai Lama in this bitch.
They wish they could be on my level.
We’re doing this. Because they need me.
Luthor is fidgeting, making logistical excuses, but I flick my hand in Ren’s direction. “Work your Ren magic, bro. Have Jasper take us to your cell.” Without waiting for them to keep stalling, I grab my tray and storm off, barking at them over my shoulder, “Come on, chop chop! We doing this, or what??”
Dumping my trash, I saunter over to where Jasper is posted up on watch by the door, my head spinning with too many things. But the adrenaline is pumping, clouding me from overthinking, and it’s good. I need it.
I refuse to stop for one second, because stopping will give me time to second-guess this decision, and I don’t want that.
I want to win.
This is a game, after all. Everything Ren does is a game, using people like chess pieces. Controlling us, pushing us around the board in whichever way will benefit him the most.
Well, guess what, bro?? You exposed your weak spot… Bad move.
He brought this up, and now he deserves to feel all kinds of stupid.
I’m gonna mess around with the love of his goddamn life, and he’s gonna sit there and watch it, just like I have to sit back and watch all kinds of shit…
“What do you want, inmate?” Jasper grunts, because I’m just standing here, smirking to myself.
“Ren has a favor to ask you.” My grin widens.
Jasper rolls his eyes. “Great…”
Luthor finally gets up, hesitantly stalking over. I whistle and nod at Ren.
Let’s go, boss. You wanted this.
Ren’s face is the picture of miserable uncertainty as he convinces Jasper—rather weakly, I might add—to bring the three of us to his cell. Luthor is nervous, understandably. But he seems like he’s ready for it…
Whatever we’re about to do together in the name of making his possessive boyfriend jealous.
Much to everyone’s surprise, Jasper agrees. We set off walking, back to the row. And every step of the way, my heart is thumping…
We’re doing this.
We’re doing this.
Wait… Why are we doing this?
“Well, that was…” Luthor’s voice is raspier than usual as he sighs, “Crazy.”
“Uh, yea.” I’m vigorously chewing on my lower lip. I can’t seem to stop…
Maybe it’s because I’m trying not to focus on the salty taste of cum lingering on my tongue.
Cum that just so happens to belong to my two best friends.
It’s strange, but I can feel Ren’s in my stomach, and it’s making me all jittery.
He’s never been… inside me before.
Gulp.
How did we get here??
It’s all a blur, honestly.
I refuse to take responsibility for what just happened.
We’re blaming it on Ren. It’s all his fault.
“I had fun,” Ren chirps, as casual as ever. Permanently missing the awkwardness gene—the part of his brain dedicated to over-analyzing, and the receptors that dip your serotonin back down to normal levels when an orgasm wears off.
He’s forever up. Never down. It’s as fascinating as it is infuriating.
“What else is new?” Luthor grumbles, redressing and fixing himself up while I do the same. I’m much more visibly fidgety, but we won’t focus on that right now. “You weren’t supposed to be involved, remember?”
“You two weren’t doing it right,” Ren hums, reaching for Luthor, who yanks away from him. “I had no choice but to step in and sort you out.”
I scoff. “Everything’s always about you.”
He frowns up at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know damn well what it means,” I snap. “You couldn’t even let Luthor have his moment of getting back at you without stealing the show.” I peek at Luthor. “We should’ve made him stand outside the bars.”
Luth cracks a smile, but Ren is squinting at me. It binds my muscles with unease. I hate when he looks at me like that… It makes me feel like he can read my mind; see right into the vast expanse of secrets I’m keeping locked up in there.
It’s the same look I give him when I know he’s lying.
“Are you jealous now, Byron?” He smirks, cocking his head. My jaw clamps. “Because you wanted to be the star this time?”
“No,” I huff, sounding way too defensive to my own ear. “I’m not… I don’t…”
“Shhh.” Ren crawls to the edge of the bed, sticking his finger into the waist of my pants to tug me closer while I wriggle away. “No need to be so defensive, darling. We’re all friends here. And sometimes friends suck each other’s dicks. It happens.”
“You’re certifiable.” Luthor sighs.
“First and last time,” I growl with our eyes locked. “I assure you.”
He grins wickedly, tongue darting out to flick my lower lip. I grumble out of annoyance and shove him away from me by his throat. He tumbles back onto his bed, chuckling like the blue-eyed spawn of Satan he is.
Stomping and keys jingling most definitely mean Jasper has returned to bring us back where we belong. I’m actually glad. I need some time to myself right now.
He doesn’t bother cuffing us. Just opens the cell, shooting Luthor and me a bitchy look that says, Go. And we do, leaving the memory of a strange, ill-conceived threesome behind where it belongs. With Ren.
The beautiful, chaotic planet around which we all orbit.
“We’re good…” Luthor murmurs softly to me as we approach my cell, “Right?”
I glance up to find his light green eyes shimmering with concern.
“It’s not weird or anything…?”
“Bro, please.” I wave him off while Jasper opens my cell and I step inside. “I already forgot about it.”
Luthor smiles, and I give him a small one back, waiting until I’m sure he’s out of sight to let it slip off.
He’s so caring. Really, truly, just the best friend in the whole world, to all of us. We don’t deserve him. And for a moment, while I’m pacing around my cell, in the aftermath of a gay threesome I think I might have accidentally started, I wonder how he’d react if I told him the truth.
Maybe not all of it, but at least some.
That actually wasn’t my first time sucking a dick, Luthor…
I wasn’t completely straight before I got here. I’m not as ice-cold as I try to make it seem.
I’ve been in love before, I think…
I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but that I really enjoyed doing in the moment, and I think that’s why I keep doing them. Becoming someone else when no one’s looking feels… really fucking good.
Being my true self in the dark is what keeps me from losing my mind.
The thing is, I know Luthor, of all people, wouldn’t judge me. He doesn’t judge anyone. He’s good like that. Just a supportive, all-around awesome dude who wouldn’t bat an eye if I told him I think I’m… something else. Something other than what I’ve been claiming to be.
But it doesn’t matter. Because I can’t tell him. I can’t tell anyone.
They wouldn’t understand, because I barely understand it myself. And it’s no one’s business.
Yea. It’s no one’s goddamn business what I did in the past, or what I choose to do with my free time. Who says friends have to tell each other everything, anyway?? What would that even accomplish?
I like having secrets. I like keeping them stashed away deep in the hollowed-out cement box of my heart.
Head. In. The. Game.
Plopping down in my bed, I reach behind the mattress, feeling around for my stash spot. I move the big chunk of concrete aside, stuffing my hand into the wall until I feel leather.
Flipping the pages of my journal, looking for the next free page, I stop on my last entry… And the sheer enormity of seeing such intense, staggering truths written out on paper has my pulse thumping faster and faster, a chill of dreadful excitement creeping up my spine.
These are things no one knows… Things I’d never dream of speaking out loud to anyone, not even my best friends. But they’re here, in this small leather-bound journal that was given to me as a welcome gift.
I still wonder why me… I wonder it every time I hold this book in my hands.
Why would he give this to me, of all people? What is it about me that warranted such a gift? That warranted a gift at all…
I didn’t have to use it. And for a while, I had no desire to. I’ve never been a writer, mainly because I never had a story to tell. But after some time passed—I think around a year or so—I realized that maybe I do have something to say. A lot of somethings, in fact… Piling up inside me, desperate for an escape.
Maybe that’s why…
Clearly, they won’t be coming out of my mouth. I write in this book because I have to… Otherwise the secrets might eat me alive.
My fingers run over the words on the page. Another secret spilled like droplets of blood…
“Let me touch you,” I growled into his ear.
“No.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
Slapping the notebook shut, I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and counting to ten.
Some are obviously worse than others…
Blinking, I look around, reacquainting myself with reality. The good news is that I’m still here, sitting in my cell alone, not in some twisted, drug-induced hallucination. The bad news is that my dick is hard from reading that little passage… Which is always confusing.
Hey, whatever, right? As far as I’m concerned, it’s like getting a boner from reading fiction.
Hot, slutty, gay fiction…
No big deal.
Except that it’s not fiction, no matter how desperately I wanted to believe that one instance in particular was a dream. What happened the night the power went out…
Rubbing my eyes, I curl up in bed and allow myself to sink for a moment. What am I doing, man?? I’m out here acting like a…
