Shadowman (Alabaster Penitentiary Book 5), page 62
We were each in our own bubbles… Velle and Rook giving in to their simmering attraction, Dash succumbing to his curiosity, and me and Luthor—my best friend, practically my brother—in a dark corner, leaning into it.
Literally. By the end, Luthor and I were sort of leaning on one another, biceps moving and flexing as we touched ourselves, together. It was confusing as fuck, like it always is at first. But I was burning. My brain was fogging up like car windows during a secret backseat dry-hump session, enough that my thoughts began to wander mischievously to other things…
Like giving my hands to him.
An orgasm rushed even closer as I wondered how it might feel… Trapping Luthor to the wall with my body. Grinding my erection into his.
Maybe kissing him a little… Just to see how it’d taste.
But most of all, how utterly, ravenously, mind-numbingly jealous it would make Ren.
I came in my pants before I could even give it a full minute of thought.
And then Luthor came by my side, shuddering through rough pants and gasps… It was hot as hell, something I can only admit here, amongst the bevy of my secrets.
I was still fizzling down from the heavens when Rook came—in Dash’s mouth. And I’m pretty sure Dash came in his pants, too. I don’t know why that’s so sexy… In theory, coming in your pants is supposed to be humiliating.
But there’s something to knowing that a person is so helplessly turned on, they can’t stop themselves from erupting inside their clothes. Head tipped back, eyes shut, lips parted and quivering…
It’s the ultimate unexpected loss of control.
The only one I’m not sure about is Velle. I couldn’t tell if he came or not. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if he made everyone in the general vicinity come except himself.
He seems like that type of dude.
So, there you have it. Concrete proof that storms are sexy, and secret kinks are much easier to accept in the dark. That would have been a perfectly tantalizing place for the night to end…
But we’re only just getting started.
Because in Alabaster Penitentiary, every moment of debauchery is a preface to something much more sinister.
Velle sent Dash to solitary for that little stunt. Arguably harsh, but the running joke is that Dash likes being in solitary. He’s down there more than he’s up in Gen-pop, which is disturbing to any of us who have spent time in solitary.
They don’t call it The Hole for nothing. It’s literally a hole where dreams go to die.
Wanna crush your spirit quick? Spend three days locked in a pitch-black, mold-ridden ten-by-ten tomb with no food or water and nothing but your every insecurity to keep you company.
I considered all of this while back in my cell, alone, lying in bed with the lights flickering in the row… Like living in a place where one minute, you’re slurping cum out of a relative stranger’s dick, and the next you’re isolated to a concrete box.
I couldn’t stop thinking about my friends and the forever-blurring lines of this prison. I thought about O’Malley, if he was okay in the East, and Ren, what he was doing and who he was doing it with. About Luthor—did he feel awkward after we came side-by-side? Has he ever had even a fleeting thought about fooling around with anyone other than Ren?
And then I thought about Dash. How effortlessly he’d slipped from angry and hostile to kneeling for a mouthful of cum.
There’s a lot I don’t understand about Dash. He’s an enigma, and I find him more interesting because of it. Because of them… His secrets.
Our secrets are the foundation of our true selves; the bedrock of what makes us us… Whether we choose to show it to the world or not.
Curiosity piqued in the darkness of my lonely cell. Pulling out this very journal, I read through some of my secrets and fell asleep reading one about me and O’Malley, and our shared bunk bed…
I awoke to fingers brushing through my hair.
On the edge of my consciousness, I could tell it wasn’t a dream. Naturally, my first instinct was to fight. Because someone had broken into my cell, and they were touching me.
But as quickly as the reflex came on, my muscles relaxed, and I gave in…
Just like in the hallway earlier, I leaned into it instead.
I was so tired of fighting. I’d been fighting so many things for so long… Being here meant that I could finally stop. Being a prisoner is to relinquish control. There’s no need to fight.
What’s the point when my life isn’t mine anymore…?
This realization felt so good; as comforting as the fingers stroking my hair, petting me like a precious kitten… It was all I really wanted, deep down, in the place where I house my secrets.
I want to be held down and fawned over. Fucked to the zenith of pleasureful pain and wanton humiliation, then cuddled and kissed and caressed like I’m everything.
The fingers felt vaguely familiar, unnerving, but somehow hypnotizing all the same. It continued to lull me into a trance… Until the rickety mattress dipped.
Someone was in my bed with me. Someone was… moving over me.
Forcing my eyelids open, I froze in fright at the pale skin and snow-white hair gleaming in the dark.
“What the f—”
My words were cut off by his lips on mine.
They were… uncharacteristically soft. Not that I’d ever imagined kissing him, but if I had, I wouldn’t have thought it’d feel like this…
The unexpectedness of it held me still, allowing him to pin me down and kiss me deeper.
What… the… fuck… is… happening? My thoughts pulsed with every thump of my heart.
Hands lying limp at my sides, my brain was running through a million questions and concerns about why The Ivory was in my cell and why he was kissing me. I just couldn’t process it. My head was spinning.
But it felt good. Despite what I knew about him as the Warden—a vengeful being who thrives on the chaos, discomfort and the sadness of others—the kiss was different. It was separate from all that.
Maybe it makes me weak, or maybe I’m too needy for my own good. But I remembered the way it felt with him, in his office that day… Under his desk. I remembered how giving in had settled me so profoundly.
When you’re so used to fighting the truth, giving up can get you high with a much-needed release of serotonin.
I couldn’t believe it was happening again, but against all will of my mind, my body took over once more and I arched up into it—into him. I gave myself over to the sensation of a softly ravenous kiss from this wickedly powerful man and opened for him.
Just like that, I was blooming. His tongue slid into my mouth, and the feel and taste sent a jolt between my legs, stiffening my cock. He licked deep and deliberately into my mouth, feeding me the distinct flavor of sweet mint, like wintergreen. His tongue was toying with mine in slow, feathering strokes that were scrambling my goddamn brain.
Why is he doing this?
Why am I letting him do this??
Why… does it feel so fucking good?
Without even realizing it, I reached out, for hair or a jaw to cling to. But as soon as I had it tangibly in my hands, it stopped. He took his mouth away, and the hypnotizing kiss was over way too quickly.
The abrupt end to it jump-started my furious confusion. The shame of how instantly needy I’d just become—for him of all people—turned to fast hostility.
“What the hell was that?!” I gasped—quietly, so no one outside of my cell would overhear. I scowled up at his face, shadowed by the lack of light, only just noticing how pitch black it was around me, save for a red glow coming from up the row. It meant the power was out, the generator running only back-up lights. “Why are you… why would you—”
“Shh…” The Ivory pressed his long finger to my lips. “No talking. Just wait.”
“Wait for what??” I grumbled, eyes flinging to the cell bars in sudden paranoia.
I hated how hoarse my voice sounded, how much I was shivering, and how hard my dick still was.
What if someone found out? What if someone saw me being so gay and slutty??
Oh, shit. My fucking journal.
Feeling around frantically, I located it under my blanket, breathing a sigh of relief. A humming chuckle echoed beside me…
“Silly shadow pet,” The Ivory spoke quietly, resounding like a bass line. “I don’t want to read your secrets. I want to watch you make them.”
It was then that I began to feel it. Something wasn’t right.
I felt… strange.
Blinking up at him, I tried to ask, “What’s happening to me?” But my tongue wouldn’t work. I physically couldn’t speak.
The Ivory grinned down at me, the glowing halo of his white hair shrouded in darkness showing him to me as his true self.
The angel of light… Lucifer.
Okay, what in the hell is going on? I thought. Why does everything feel weird??
“Come,” he commanded, then stood up, floating toward the bars of my cell.
Once I sat up, I felt it even stronger. That sort of hypersensitive awareness only narcotics can provide.
I knew right away he’d drugged me. That was the purpose of the kiss. He wasn’t sneaking into my cell to make out with me, or make me feel good because he liked me…
He literally shoved drugs into my mouth via his tongue.
Typical.
Manuel Blanco peered at me over his shoulder and cocked a brow.
Oops. I said that out loud.
Naturally, he wasn’t fazed. He simply stood there, waiting for me to slither out of my bed and follow him. Which I did, because I couldn’t not. I felt like I was tethered to him, on a leash that he was holding.
I’m not a drug-doer. Never have been. I tried things in high school and a couple of times in college, but only enough to determine that I’m far too desperate for control to let go of my faculties and get wasted. It probably speaks to why I am the way I am, but I was always afraid that being under the influence would cause me to accidentally reveal some inner part of myself I didn’t want the rest of the world to see.
The vulnerable part, where I hold my secrets.
The nature of the high was unlike any of the highs I’d felt before, from things like coke, or pills, or weed. This was an alternate reality, as if someone had cracked open my skull and all kinds of other things were being absorbed by my brain. Like a sponge, soaking up external sensations.
In that moment, I truly wasn’t sure if I was awake or dreaming…
Either way, I had no choice but to obey The Ivory by following him, wordlessly, through the long corridors. He eventually stopped in front of a large metal door. I looked around and registered where we were.
Solitary.
He peered in through a small plexiglass window.
“What are we doing here?” I tried to ask. “Why do I feel like this? What did you give me??”
But again, none of it would come out. I got the sense that he wanted me to be quiet, and what’s more, I wanted to be. Everything down there seemed still and silent. I felt like hearing my own voice would hurt my ears.
The Ivory reached into his pocket and pulled out a single key. It was peculiar-looking, antiquated brass with a bird at the top, within the crown. He stuck it into the lock and twisted. Even the sound of the mechanism unlocking the door with a metal clunk seemed loud. Once the door was opened, he nodded for me to go inside.
I didn’t want to. I really didn’t want to be in solitary, especially while trippin’ balls on whatever crazy drug he’d given me. But I also knew resistance was futile. He would get what he wanted, one way or another, because that was the nature of this whole thing.
We belong to him, prisoners and guards alike. He’s the omnipotent being with his hand around the joystick, controlling us and this island like his own personal video game.
For whatever reason, he wanted the Byron character in that cell. So in I went.
As soon as I set foot inside, he closed the door and locked it with another clunk. Gulping down my nerves, I looked around the small, dark room. There were a few candles lit on the floor by the wall, melted wax pooling and hardening beneath them. The only sounds that of the storm’s wind billowing from outside, and water dripping off in the distance.
Shadows danced on the jagged concrete walls, calling to me. Whispering…
You belong here. You are the Shadow Man.
Standing still by the door, I felt my presence melting into the darkness. I had become one with the shadows.
But something shifted, movement in the room startling me. There was someone else in the cell… A person, curled up on the tiny cot. Blinking through the haze of drugs in my system, I recognized him instantly.
Dash.
He appeared to have just woken up, eyelids heavy with sleep. He noticed me right away, but he said nothing. Simply stared for minutes in silence. Barely moving, the two of us watched one another, breathing to the tune of harsh winds and dripping water.
When Dash blinked, I felt something. I’m not sure how, or why, but I was overcome with a distinct notion that he didn’t recognize me as his friend, Byron Kang. He was seeing someone else… Someone he only saw in the dark. Someone he wanted to fear, though his yearning had piqued a lustful interest he didn’t fully understand.
I recognized it because I’d seen it before.
In that moment, he was Michelangelo.
Striding forward, an ease of confidence filled my extremities in an instant. I was moving the way I had so many times before, inside that townhouse. Sneaking around in the shadows, like a predator on the hunt for my unsuspecting prey, awaiting my soothe to his needy ache.
He gazed up at me, bright eyes shining in the glow of candlelight. We watched each other for many moments more, the warmth inside me spreading to a burning blaze. I took a seat on the bed next to him, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. Shutting me down.
And so, it begins…
“Let me touch you,” I growled into his ear.
“No.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
Things were moving faster, unfolding and unfurling before my eyes and my hands. It was electrifying being back with him.
In the corner of my mind, I doubted whether it was real. But whatever was flowing through my bloodstream was simulating the reality I wanted… I couldn’t make myself see past the scene splaying out before me.
I took our shirts off, then lowered his pants while he struggled and whimpered.
“I don’t want this…”
“Yea, you say that a lot,” I hummed, pinning his wrists. “But then you purr when you come, like a happy little kitten. So what should I believe, rich boy? Your words, or your actions?”
“P-please don’t…”
“Relax.”
Dazed and panting, I had him on his knees in the bed, face down and stuffed into the mattress, ass up and ready for me. Bringing down his boxers felt like the lid being lifted off of a gourmet feast. My mouth was instantly watering.
He was trembling, and I liked it. And while I didn’t have anything to restrain him with, he held his wrists together behind his back for me.
“Perfect…” I crooned as I spread him open. “So fucking perfect.
The next thing I knew, my mouth was between his cheeks, and I was eating him, slow and possessive. Lapping, sucking, and kissing… I was fucking devouring him just like I always wanted to. Like I needed to.
My dick was so hard, it had its own pulse.
“Guhhh… Fuck, what are you… doing?”
“I’m going to make you come from eating your ass out, baby,” I purred into his hole. “Is that okay?”
He nodded fast and groaned, clenching beneath my tongue. “God… yes.”
“Good. Now, relax your tight little hole so I can stick my tongue inside.”
For minutes on end, I was gone. Wandering lost in a lush forest of desire, licking and licking and licking until my jaw was sore and my tongue was numb.
“You like how I eat your pussy, baby?” I asked him, just to hear the way he’d cry and moan for me. “Your tight little pussy loves to be licked and sucked, doesn’t it?”
“Fuck fuck fuck…”
At the feeling of him tightening all over, I took my pants down and began beating my dick fast and rough. I held him open with my free hand while his fingers raked aggressively through my hair, stuffing my face deeper into him. He sounded like he was about to combust, and I knew I was too. The air in the room was buzzing.
I felt him letting go, because we were one. Holding myself up from collapsing into him, I groaned and growled along with his sobs of ecstasy. I slid my hand between his legs to feel his dick, shooting cum all over the bed, and it was too much.
“I’m gonna come, baby,” I breathed to my Michelangelo, sitting back, hands on his cheeks, spreading him apart.
I barely recognized the sound of my own voice. But seeing his tiny pink hole, all wet with my saliva, had me throbbing. I wanted to fuck him detrimentally. In that moment, the need was stronger than anything I’d ever felt before.
Easing the slick, swollen exposed crown of my cock up to him, I brushed it over that sweet spot, marveling at how small it was compared to my girth. I was amazed that I was ever able to get inside him… More importantly, that he let me in. It was like coming home; like finally having a place in the world when Michelangelo’s body welcomed mine.
He made space for me inside him. I so badly wanted to fit in someplace like that again.
Craving that first, most satisfying push into heaven—or maybe hell, based on how scorching hot it was—I moved my hips just a bit, all too ready to get in him and fuck. But before I could, my orgasm rushed to the surface, and I was coming. Hard.
Shuddering and breathless, I pressed the head of my dick into his hole, just enough to pulse cum inside, because I wanted to leave my mark. And he opened up for me. Wanting it, taking it. He let me feed my cum into his perfect little hole, whimpering the sounds of his own crippling pleasure into the bed while I quaked in blissful agony behind him.
