Chapter Nineteen
W armth surrounds me.
Like a sheet of serenity, it wraps me up. More than just my mind… My body too. It’s a heaviness, a pressure that mollifies me, and I pretend not to know why.
But I do.
I’ve been searching for this feeling ever since…
The last night I felt it. With him.
Easing into it, the sensation of being held down and cherished, I reach for Michelangelo. I run my hands up his frame, breathing out a soft sigh of relief because he’s here .
I got him back.
His soft breaths brush my chest, and I hum. “I missed you, baby…”
The fingers gently grazing my hip become less gentle. They grip me possessively. My brow furrows as consciousness slowly descends on my mind, blurring away the comfort.
A voice, distinctly not belonging to Michelangelo, hums, “Mmm… I’d hoped you would.”
Fluttering my eyes open, I see black hair, messily strewn about. But when his face lifts, I’m met with purple eyes, and I jump.
“What the fuck?!” I gasp, still hoarse, having just woken up. Yanking myself out of his hold, I scoot away and sit up. “What are you doing in my bed??”
Trevel rises onto his knees, pouting. “You just looked so warm and peaceful…” His violet eyes sharpen. “Who were you talking to?”
“No one. None of your business,” I bark, crawling out of bed. Unfortunately, I’m still on the tail-end of morning wood, and adjusting my visible dick in my pants isn’t really helping my cause. “I thought I said no cuddling.”
Trevel slides off the bed himself, stretching before me. In times like this, I hate that he’s a solid five inches taller than me. I don’t like it when he’s hovering over me, wearing that knowing expression, like he doesn’t believe a damn word I say.
“You’re awfully stubborn, you know that?
” He folds his arms over his chest, drawing my attention to his shirtless torso and how cut he is.
Not as thickly muscled as me, but he has that slim definition really working for him.
But I’m not trying to notice these things, so I force my eyes to remain on his face.
“Prison gets lonely, Raph. What’s wrong with a bit of shag-n-snuggle between mutually attracted mates, hm? ”
I’m gaping at him like he’s a mental case, but I think he likes it… It only serves to widen his grin.
It’s too early for this nonsense.
Releasing a relenting breath, I rub my eyes. “Whatever, dude. Just… don’t do it again.”
Turning away, I’m going for my toothbrush and toothpaste, ignoring him as he murmurs, “No promises,” behind my back.
I have to pause my morning routine to note all of Trevel’s things, which have joined mine, lining the sink.
That Kent guy showed up last night to drop off his stuff while I was fighting with my mind to stop running enough for me to get just a few minutes of sleep.
I only dozed off about an hour ago, but at least it was something.
Too bad I was woken up by my new cellmate, spooning me against my will.
I’m concentrating on brushing my teeth as Trevel skips over, nudging his arm against mine. I jerk away and peer at him.
“May I take a guess?” he asks. I give him a puzzled look. “About the purpose of the hole… in the mattress.”
My spine stiffens while he smirks.
I spit and rinse, then mutter, “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Why?” he chirps. “Are you embarrassed?”
“Why would I be embarrassed ?” I hiss, narrowing a glare at him.
“Well, because due to its position, you would have to be the… receiver . And I know hetero blokes can be a bit defensive about things like that.” His grin is downright menacing, and it’s making me want to punch him. “Mind if I use some of yours?” He picks up my toothpaste.
My jaw tightens. “Knock yourself out.”
He uncaps it and squeezes some onto his toothbrush, then winks. “Cheers.”
Obviously, he’s being extra flirty to get a rise out of me. I’m not stupid.
So we sort of hooked up… Big deal. I’ve sort of hooked up with lots of people at this point, and none of it means a damn thing. I’m sure I could hook up with Trevel again, just for fun, no strings attached.
But for some reason, it doesn’t feel as casual as I’d like it to be, especially now that we’re sharing a cell. I really don’t want to deal with him thinking this is something it’s not. Honestly, he seems like the type who becomes easily obsessive and codependent, which worries me.
We already have one of those in here…
“I’m simply wondering if its purpose is for the resident of the top bunk to feed whomever is on the bottom,” he croons, refusing to let this go. I’m shivering, but fighting against it tooth and nail. “Because I’ll say, Byron, if that’s the case, I can’t wait to give you a proper meal—”
“Alright, shut up,” I growl.
I really hate how warm and squirmy I am right now…
What’s the problem with just telling him the truth? Why am I so afraid??
So I used to occasionally suck my cellmate’s dick through a hole in his mattress… Who cares?
When I glance back at Trevel, he’s frowning, amusement dried up. “I’m sorry, Raph. I didn’t mean to upset you…”
I swallow hard. “You didn’t upset me. I’m fine . It’s just… whatever may or may not have happened through that hole is… done. It’s in the past.”
I breathe out slowly, and he slants his head. I can tell he wants to say a million more things, and it’s stressing me out.
Fortunately, he nods, accepting my half-assed explanation. “Understood. I apologize.”
“No apologies necessary,” I mutter, moving on to washing my face.
I get in there good, distracting myself from the awkwardness of me and Trevel— paired with the memories of slurping on O’Malley’s cock through the mattress —using some of the nice moisturizer Joy got me a while ago that I managed to hold on to despite the lockdown.
Everything is fine. Sucking your friends’ dicks is no big deal.
Sucking the Warden’s dick is no big deal.
You can suck as many dicks as you want, and it’s nobody’s goddamn business but yours.
“I knew you probably had a decent skincare regimen,” Trevel says. I cock a bemused brow at him. “Your complexion is stunning.”
I blink at him, baffled by the compliment. No one has ever said that to me before. No one’s ever noticed such a minor detail about me, and if they have, they never cared to mention it.
But he does; this virtual stranger who seems to notice everything .
I swear to God, when he’s looking at me, sometimes I can feel him scouring my every pore.
Every angle, every dip, every surface. He’s all up in it, and it’s only a matter of time before that scrutinizing violet attention starts seeping into my deeper places.
Gulping, I’m unable to fight the breathy, “Thanks,” that leaves my lips.
“You’re very welcome.” Trevel winks at me in the mirror I have up over the sink, fussing with tousled black locks that fall past his ears.
It reminds me that my own hair’s been growing in, and I run my fingers through, combing it back. “You can use any of my products… If you want.”
He spins to face me. “I appreciate that. You can use my stuff too. Sharing is caring, yes?”
I shrug and nod. Sure, why not.
Having a cellmate again is interesting, especially one who’s so different from O’Malley.
O’Malley was a whacko, but at least you knew what to expect.
As forthcoming as he portrays himself to be with certain things, Trevel Fenwick is still an enigma.
A quiet, calculating monster, as opposed to a stark-raving lunatic.
It’s an adjustment, having someone all up in my space again.
I find myself changing my clothes frantically to avoid being naked in front of him.
Not that he hasn’t already seen me naked— the joys of showering in front of everyone you know.
I just fear that lingering around the cell naked will seem like an invitation for my new roomie, the flirt with the wandering purple eyes.
O’Malley used to sleep naked, so he’d always be mulling around here, hanging brain. I mean, I’m comfortable with my body too, because I know it’s sick and I work really hard on it, even in here. But that doesn’t mean I just swing it around for no reason.
I do like being shirtless, though. If I never wore a shirt again for the rest of my life, I’d be totally fine with it.
I’m done changing while Trevel is still plucking clothes out of that large basket the Warden gave him, which he apparently uses to hold all of his things. And when he shimmies out of his pants, through no fault of my own, my eyes sort of go with them.
He wears briefs—rather skimpy ones, I might add—that fit him like a second skin. They look fancy, and my eyebrow cocks when I note the Versace around the waistband.
Are those from the Warden too?? Damn. And here I thought the ones from Skull and Bones that Ren scored for us were special.
I refuse to admit it out loud, but that underwear looks good on him. The simple black, yet obviously chic European style, with his pale skin decorated in black patchwork… He looks like a high-fashion model. I can picture him wearing only those, strutting down a catwalk in Milan.
I swear, I’ve never seen anyone like him in real life. He’s… a different kind of beautiful.
Okay… stop. Weren’t you just accusing him of being the gawking weirdo??
“Care to join me for breakfast?” Trevel asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.
Already dressed and digging through his basket again, he pulls out a packet of Pop-Tarts.
“Uh… sure.” I answer, mouth watering and trying to act like it’s not.
I’m not huge on sweets, but I do love strawberry Pop-Tarts, and I’m sure they’re infinitely better than whatever we’ll be getting in the caf.
“Shall we take our breakfast on the… veranda?” He arches a dark brow. “Or the terrace?”
It takes me a moment to register what he’s asking me, but when I do, my lips twitch. “Veranda is fine.”
“Marvelous choice.” He grins, trotting over and plopping down onto my bed.