Chapter 63
SINN'OUS
Sleep eluded him. Or it would have if he had tried to catch it. As it is, he dismisses the idea entirely, content to breathe in Izz’s scent and soak in his body’s warmth.
Being in Izz’s cell is a change in pace.
They have done this several times in his own cell, but this is, what?
The second time he has spent the night in Izz’s cell.
Not the first or even the second time they’ve fucked in it.
They have done that more than a dozen times.
And Reni had only stepped in on them once more, when Izz was on his knees and Sinn'ous was standing above him, cock buried in his throat. Izz’s back was to the cell door, he hadn’t seen, and still doesn’t know that Reni stepped in.
Watched for a very drawn-out minute, then slipped silently back out.
The jealousy clear on his disapproving face.
Night slid on and with it the slow stillness to the Wing. The soft drone of snores, jangle of keys, whispered words of passing guards. All the normal nightly noises of prison. Only this time it’s coupled in the light breathing of the delicate body in his arms.
Every ticking minute has Sinn'ous hyper aware of how close they are beneath the single sheet.
His resolve is crumbling, not that he has ever had much self-restraint to begin with.
He never denies his wants and needs, taking whatever it is his soul craves.
It usually consists of death in the form of sacrifices to Satan.
But right now he has other preferences plaguing his mind.
And he’s never been one to deny a good thing.
Temptation is pressed flush to him. His hands roam of their own volition.
One hand still tucked under the boy’s body and cupping Izz’s crouch, the other sliding under his shirt to drag up his moderately toned abdomen.
Each valley and ridge of undefined muscles passes smoothly under his fingertips.
He nuzzles into the side of Izz’s neck, gently nipping at his ear, and when the boy sighs and pushes back into him it takes everything in him not to shove him to his stomach and fuck him hard.
The only thing holding him back is the knowledge that they’re not alone in the cell, and Izz would resist if he tried to fuck him.
This doesn’t mean he can’t let off some steam. And relieving himself isn’t going to compromise his future plans.
He scoots his hips back creating a space between them so he can put his hand down his own pants.
Manoeuvring around to lay the thin scratchy sheet over the top of both of them, throwing a glance at the dark form unmoving on the other bunk.
Reni’s back is to them and the soft snores are an indication he won’t be a problem.
Back to the task at hand, Sinn'ous props himself up on his elbow. The clogging darkness in the cell hides most of Izz’s finer detail, but not the curve of his body, the slackened softness of his lips—an allure he is tempted to take, to kiss his way into that enticing mouth.
Sinn'ous shoves his pants under his balls, freeing his cock he strokes it in languid pulls. Staying as close to the boy as he can without touching, so he doesn’t accidentally jostle him awake.
Not that he believes that to be a possibility, the boy could sleep through an explosion set off in the same cell.
He takes his time. Prolonging the pleasure.
His skin tingles, sending shivers racing to his heart.
Each pump of blood from the organ is sent straight to his cock, creating a wave of lightheaded pressure in his skull.
Electricity races down his spine to join the slick slide of his hand down his cock.
The only lube he has is the precum beading from his slit.
Sticky and not quite enough to stave off the mild chafing.
Stuck on a cliff of no return. He has no intention of stepping back from its edge, he will take the leap—parachute be damned—and plummet down to whatever hard stop waits below.
A sucked in breath is the only outward noise to signal his collapse into oblivion.
Internally his wires are flaring to life, sparking white hot light over his eyes, clouding his vision to the point where he can see the pleasure he feels.
Describing it as a toe-curling orgasm is not appropriate, and yet it’s exactly what he is experiencing.
Right down to the spasms of his thigh muscles locking up tight.
He might have been shot in the chest. It’s the only way to explain the shortness of breath, and racing of his heart. The burn coursing through his veins, and into his chest cavity. And the resounding tingles it produces in his limbs.
Vision flirting back to him. He is able to catch his spunk in hand, wringing the last drops into his cupped palm. Body crashing and burning. A heavy layer of exertion blanketing him. In a way one would describe as medically induced fatigue. Like his body has been dumped full of paralysing drugs.
And through it all, his cock is still raging on. Hard as granite. Like he hadn’t just cum his soul out his dick.
Now comes a new issue—nowhere to place his cum.
And he isn’t about to get up, not when that means leaving Izz alone in the bunk.
Even if it would only be for a minute. Scrunching his nose he makes the sacrifice—licking his own hand clean.
It’s a little bitter but overall not so bad.
He sucks each individual finger into his mouth, then curls around Izz’s back and slips his still wet hand past the boy’s waist band to go back to cupping his flaccid cock.
It chubs a little when Sinn'ous repositions into a better position, but doesn’t do anything further.
And Sinn'ous does nothing to encourage the growth, he lies silent and unmoving behind Izz, going right back to watching the boy sleep.
He’s so engrossed in his observations the alarm startles him enough to hitch his breath. He usually isn’t one to neglect situational awareness.
Sandstone Correctional livens in an instant. Voices rising and falling, echoing through the peaceful place where he’d been holding his possession in his arms.
Turning shows that Reni is also awake, on his side facing Sinn'ous, and glaring hatred which is easily ignored. It’s a nuisance which is little more than a fly to swat away.