Shadowman (Alabaster Penitentiary Book 5), page 28
A hand stuffing my face into the dirt…
Screams, and laughter, and pain.
And blood. Lots of blood.
“So what if I do?” Sniffing, I feel suddenly woozy.
I’m fighting to regain my witty nonchalance, but it’s just out of reach. I can feel trauma oozing from my pores. Tossing the nail polish into the basket, I ignore the way he’s gaping at me.
“Trevel, I—”
“I write poetry,” I cut him off before he can go there. “I’ve never been in love. And I talk to an imaginary version of my old teddy bear named Leo.”
Byron’s face turns flabbergasted. It’s kind of funny… How out of his element he looks. A chuckle bursts out of me, and he relaxes a bit.
Shaking his head, he scoffs while assessing his manicure. “You’re certifiable, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” I sigh out my amusement.
His movements stop, and he winces, pinching the back of his neck.
My brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m still kinda stiff from the other night,” he murmurs, lolling his head from side to side. I bite back a grin, and he rolls his eyes. “My muscles, creeper. From the fight. Sleeping on these terrible mattresses doesn’t help.”
My face lights up, a golden opportunity presenting itself. “I can give you a massage… If you like.”
He peeks at me. “Yea?”
I nod fast. “I was a massage therapist as well.”
“You were a yoga instructor and a massage therapist?”
“And a poetry teacher, and a bartender, and a dog-walker…”
“Okay, I get it.” He grins. “I’m fine, though. It’s not a big deal.”
“Listen, warrior.” I ease behind him, ignoring his obvious reticence. “You asked me if I wanted to make you feel good…”
His eyes widen, and it takes him a beat to breathe out, “Do you?”
Nodding, I slide my hands onto his shoulders. “Relax and let me work my magic.”
“Just a massage, though… right?” he grumbles.
All I want is to crawl on top of him and see where things go. But I compose myself, because we’re being friendly, and murmur, “Yes.”
He peeks at me over his shoulder, wearing a rather suspicious look. “No happy ending?”
I pout, running my index finger up the nape of his neck until he flinches. “Boring, but that’s your call.”
Sighing, he nods with trepidation. “Fine. Upper body only.”
“Yes, sir, Rapha.” I pluck the material of his shirt. “I’ll need this off, though.”
Humoring me, he whips the tank top over his head. And I’m momentarily very distracted, to an almost hypnotizing degree, by just how well sculpted he is. He’s like a statue of a Greek god.
And I really like his tattoos.
“Byron… can I just say one thing?”
“You’ve already said about five hundred things tonight,” he grunts. “Not that I could stop you, but what’s one more?”
Ignoring the way his grumpiness tingles my balls, I croon, “Your body is mouthwatering.”
He goes quiet, and I can feel his nervous squirming, before he mutters, “Don’t drool on me.”
Fucking hell. Grouchy, a little cocky, and feral for secret gay stuff… Why is that such an unbearably hot combination??
Taking a breath, I begin working on his shoulders gently. He is stiff, but I think it’s mostly because of the potentially awkward circumstances. Still, I can tell he likes it, relaxing and leaning into the sensation.
Squeezing harder, I knead his muscles, sticking to the shoulders, when all I want is to lie him down and touch every solid inch. But I don’t. I keep it professional, though it’s like mild torture, caressing him with firm force, driving down on pressure points with my thumbs.
Byron’s breathing shifts and slows, as if I’m working him into a trance. He’s melting before me, and I’m on fire myself, but for a different reason.
Wow… His skin is every bit as creamy and soft as it looks.
“Should I use some lotion?” I whisper by his ear.
“Hm…?” He sounds out of it already, barely processing my question as his head lolls back. “Fuck, that feels good…”
“Yea?”
We’re much closer now, my chest at his back and his impeccable body between my legs. I’m holding him up, caressing from his shoulder blades to his biceps.
“I’m just saying, I give a mean deep tissue,” I hum. “But you’d have to lie down on the bed and get naked…”
“Trevel… stop talking,” he groans softly.
“As you wish.”
In the grand scheme of massages, this one is pretty tame. I’m used to my clients being naked, covered only by a sheet or blanket, lying face down and at the mercy of my hands. Regardless, it’s clearly working for him. He’s releasing these little gasps and hums that are stirring my dick beyond belief. The feel of him turning to putty beneath my fingers is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
I still barely understand it, but since the moment I laid eyes on Byron Kang, all I’ve wanted is to worship him. To lick, and suck, and bite him. Bring him to the brink of ecstasy with my hands and my mouth… and my dick. My ass.
Any and all parts of me with any and all parts of him.
I don’t have any one default role in the bedroom. I’m down for pretty much anything, but I do tend to gravitate toward partners who take control. On the surface, Byron seems like the type to dominate. Yet, for whatever reason, I find myself fantasizing about how he’d react if I overpowered him. Maybe reigned some painful pleasure over this perfect body…
Something tells me he’d love it. But I’m not sure he’ll allow himself to admit that. Not yet, anyway.
“How’s this… pressure?” I rasp, and he purrs.
“So good…”
“Mmm… Tell me if you want it harder.” I brush my lips behind his ear.
Fuck, he smells so good. I wonder how he… tastes…
Without thinking, I press a soft kiss there. It just happens, and I hear him release a breath. But he doesn’t pull away or try to punch me. So I do it again, kissing him ever-so-gently while massaging his shoulders sensually, but with a firm grip. The next thing I know, I’m decorating his neck with kisses. And he’s allowing it.
I’m high in a flash. My cock is straining against my pants, balls humming as I touch this beautiful boy, kisses growing hungrier, from lush pecks to needy suction. My tongue slips out, tracing the shell of his ear. And because I have absolutely zero chill whatsoever, I take his lobe between my lips and start sucking.
“Fffuck… um, Trevel…?” He trembles my name.
“Mhm?” My hands have moved around to his front, cupping and kneading his juicy pectoral muscles while I release his earlobe to lick and bite his pulse point.
“What are you… doing?” he asks breathlessly.
Giving you a hickey, hot boy, what does it look like?
“Making you feel good,” I purr.
He shivers. “But you’re… kissing me.”
“You like it?”
“That’s not… the point.”
“Are you sure?” My hungry mouth moves up his jaw, going for his lips while my hands travel down his front, reaching for his dick. I make it to the abs, and the corner of his mouth, when he stops me, diving away fast.
“Dude, come on,” he pants, aiming a right foggy glare at my face. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Fuck the deal.” My fingers rush through my hair in an attempt to compose myself. “We’re alone in this cell, Byron. We both want to feel good, and you said it yourself… You hook up in here to pass the time. Pass the time with me. I promise, baby, it’ll give you what you need.”
His flushed face is painted with frustration. “Oh yea? And what do I need?”
“A release.” I give him a pointed look. “To clear your head and drain your fucking balls. Why are you making this a bigger deal than it has to be?”
He’s chewing vigorously on his lower lip, warring with himself. Not nearly as appalled as I’m sure he’d like to be. I snatch his hand, and he lets me, eyes wide. Holding his gaze, I extend my tongue to lick a purposeful line up his index finger. And then I suck it into my mouth.
“Mmff.” He shifts, watching me intently with a blaze in his eyes as I suck suggestively on his finger, barely a breath separating our mouths.
Byron looks astonished, and terrified, and so fucking turned on. No more dancing around this. I want to fuck him, in one way or another, and I know he wants it too, evident when he parts his lips and eases them up to mine.
Pulling his finger out of my mouth, I push it up to his. And to my own shock and awe, he sucks it between his lips. Sucking his own finger, with me guiding him.
“Byron…” I whimper, and his lashes flutter. “You are so fucking hot. Look at you, love… so unbelievably sexy, my cock is aching.”
He groans softly, whining while he sucks hungrily on his finger as if imagining it’s a cock. Maybe mine…
Tugging the finger out by his hand, I lick up the length of it again, this time not stopping until I’m flicking his bottom lip with my tongue. Then biting it.
“Fuck, what are we doing?” he mewls, fisting my shirt with his free hand.
“Who cares,” I rush out, shoving him onto his back and crawling over him. “Stop thinking.”
“’Kay…” he sighs as he arches up to me, gaze lidded and hungry. “Please touch my dick.”
“’Kay,” I growl, reaching between his legs. His cock is full, hard and huge, and now I’m massaging that, palming it over his pants until he’s quaking. “Baby, you’re so fucking big.”
“Uhh, shit… I think I just came a little,” he whimpers, and I chuckle breathlessly onto his mouth. “This is so hot… Why is this so hot??”
“What did I say about the thinking?”
“Sorry,” he rasps with his fists in my hair.
“Be a good boy and rub that big cock on me, Raphael,” I breathe, thrusting between his legs.
Like the other night while we were fighting, only so much better. Deeper, hotter, greedier. His long, rock-solid dick is trapped between us while we move together, grinding, working our hips to dry-fuck like it’s going out of style. I can’t even fathom how phenomenal it feels as my hands glide around to possessively palm and squeeze his ass.
“Ohhfuckyeaa…” He shivers.
“You like that?” I growl, head floating off my body. “My hands on you…”
He nods fast, tightening all over.
“God, Byron… Let me fuck you, baby. I want to get you soaking wet and slide in you so deep…”
And suddenly, he’s shuddering. “Mmfffuuck… Oh fuck, Trev… Trevel.”
Is he… coming??
I think he’s coming!
Bloody hell… now I’m coming.
Out of bloody nowhere, my balls burst, and I shoot all over the inside of my pants while clutching Byron’s trembling body. Holding his hips, I press my throbbing cock into his ass so that I can come on him through our clothes. Even like this, it’s pure euphoria.
“Baby, I’m coming for you,” I whisper, inhaling his ragged breaths.
“Jesus Christ, oh my God…”
“Ohh… Mmm, tell me about it.”
Fluttering down from the most unexpected mutual orgasms ever, we’re both panting like we just swam ten laps. Lips together, brushing. It’s nothing short of astonishing.
“So ridiculous.” Byron rests his forehead on mine. “That was like… some high school shit. How the hell did that even happen??”
“I don’t know, but I think I wet your pants through my pants.” I chuckle.
He snorts, then exhales a jittery breath. “I’m all sticky…”
“I think you’re perfect…” I sigh dreamily.
Pulling back, he locks his eyes on mine, staring as if he’s trying to find answers in my irises. I highly doubt that’s what he’ll find…
“We’re just friends… Okay?” he says softly. Not angry, or even scared anymore.
It almost sounds like he’s saying it because he thinks he’s supposed to.
I’m taken aback by that comment, though I’m not sure why either. And because I don’t have the brain capacity for anything else right now, I simply nod. “Of course. What else would we be?”
He bites his lip. “It’s just… a release. Like you said.”
“Right.”
Seemingly placated by my response, his fingers brush tenderly through my hair. An affectionate gesture that swells my heart until it aches.
“Thank you for… inviting me over.”
I blink at him, lips curving. “My pleasure.”
Peeling off of each other, we both stand slowly, exchanging timid glances while adjusting our cum-stained clothes.
“Hey, Trevel…?” he calls out, uncharacteristically soft, and I glance up.
“Yea?”
He shifts. “My favorite actor is Jared Leto. I can’t even look at frosted animal crackers because once when I was a kid, I ate too many of them and threw up…” I chuckle, and he bites his lip. “And I really… hated what we just did.”
The timid look on his face is killing me in the best way. I take a step forward, needing to kiss him at least once because, fuck me, he probably tastes like candy. But footsteps approaching shut it down before I can get to him. Byron backs away fast, clearing his throat.
And although I’m not ready to give him back, I have no choice but to let him fight me…
For now.
“What the fuck is this?!”
A roar that would normally stop everyone dead in their tracks is swallowed up by the noise. The sheer pandemonium is overwhelming these dank halls.
It’s loud, echoing more turmoil than usual. Shouting and banging coming from all sides framing the clomps of an organized march… One we’re not a part of.
My head flings around general population, watching on with wide eyes as unfamiliar faces stomp past us like we’re nothing. I’m used to being invisible… But clearly, Velle is not.
And he’s fucking pissed.
“Yo, what the fuck is going on, man??” Peters gasps, charging over with Jasper by his side. We’re all just standing around—myself, Trevel, Luthor and Ren being sort of shielded by a visibly edgy Rook, Joy, and Velle. “Where did these pricks come from??”
We’re all looking to Velle for any indication of what’s happening right now. It’s not even a choice; it’s a reflex.
He’s visibly fuming, of course, with that crazed twitch in his eye he gets when he’s about to crack skulls. But apparently, this is havoc even he can’t scowl away.
I thought it was odd that Dr. Love showed up in the rec room while we were down there, having our depressing version of “yard time.” I figured he’d just popped in to see Darcey, since the two of them are also disgustingly obsessed and inseparable. But only a few minutes later, Rook and Velle came hustling into the room, and the four of them—the dynamic trio plus Dr. Love—huddled off in the corner for some bizarre meeting.
It was weird, and I was just about to subtly harass Trevel for more details on his history with the surly doctor, when voices came bellowing from across the room via the walkies—their cohorts hollering about some commotion up in Gen-pop.
It was immediately Defcon 1.
Like Disaster Dominoes. As soon as the first one fell, everything fell apart, quickly, uniforms toppling.
Rook, Velle, and Joy hustled us prisoners back up from the rec room, leaving Darcey and Dr. Love to return to The East. And we arrived to what can only be described as a coup.
The entirety of general population is being flooded with strangers. Not just any strangers, though. New muscle.
A whole-ass SWAT team of huge men is patrolling the halls, causing an uproar of mass hysteria. I have no idea who they are or why they’re here, but I remember what Peters said over the walkie… Something about new guards brought in by The Ivory.
Okay. This is it.
We’re officially screwed.
“He didn’t say anything to you?” Jasper asks Velle, keeping his voice down while we stand still, eyes shifting nervously like we’re being circled by sharks and we need to refrain from making any sudden movements.
“Is that a real question?” Velle grumbles, uncharacteristically unnerved.
As much as you want to hate the guy, when shit goes down, he’s the barometer. The constant presence of stability in the form of his ever-present macho, haughty arrogance. If Velle is posted up, arms folded, lips pursed, and that damn smug eyebrow cocked, you know things will probably be alright. As alright as they can be, anyway.
The last time something crazy and fucked up happened, Velle was nowhere to be found. It was troubling.
But this is worse. Because he’s right here, and every bit as uneasy as the rest of us.
“Get them back to their cells,” Velle says to Rook, then turns to Joy. “Round up the rest of the team. We’ll meet at the spot in twenty.”
Everyone scatters in different directions, except Rook, who stays with us. I don’t want to admit that I’m anxious as hell right now, but I am. I don’t like this… It’s not the good kind of excitement.
Glancing right, I meet Luthor’s glistening green gaze, his brows zipped in worry. But I look away fast, swallowing a lump in my throat.
Yea, things are awkward right now.
Nonetheless, I might need to buck the fuck up a little. As dramatic as that field trip was, what’s happening up here now is an epic shitstorm of glorious fuckery that makes our petty squabbling seem pretty damn childish.
I’m glad I was able to get in one last sparring session with Joy. Something tells me we won’t be doing that again for a long, long time.
“You,” Rook growls at Trevel, who points to himself. “Hands on that wall. You move, I shoot you. Got it?”
Trevel says nothing, casting me a puzzled glance before placing his palms flat on a nearby wall. Unfortunately, the rest of us barely make it a step through the doorway to the row before we’re ambushed by three huge assholes I’ve never seen before.
One of them immediately cuffs me, without a word, giving me a hard shove to the back until I stumble. My glare goes unnoticed. He just keeps pushing me toward my cell with my hands cuffed behind my back.
