Chapter Twenty-Two #2
I don’t think I’ve ever smiled this big in my whole life.
“How do you feel?” he asks quietly, dark eyebrow arching.
Amazing. “Good,” I downplay it. But then I clear my throat. “Really good, actually…” A long exhale brushes past my lips, becoming a soft chuckle on its way out.
Wow… I’m fucking bi. I said it, because it’s true.
So this is being honest, huh? It’s not bad…
Trevel pinches my cheek. “You look good.” I force a frown, yanking away and making him laugh. “You have a terrific smile, by the way.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, pursing my lips.
Straightening, Trevel stretches his arms over his head and sighs. But I can’t stop staring at him…
Where did this guy even come from?
How is it possible that he just showed up here, in prison, and became my greatest confidant??
Inherent cynicism tells me to remain skeptical. My mind flashes to Luthor and Ren, and how suspicious they were of him. Were they on to something? Or just determined to keep me in the shadows as the lovable sidekick?
I can’t deny that Trevel’s connection to The Ivory seems strange. I’d be stupid not to be wary of him. But then… No one’s ever opened me up like this. No one’s ever been dedicated to me .
Maybe he really is my Leo…
“Are you a witch or something?” I ask teasingly, but also dripping with wonder. “It’s a little alarming how you’ve managed to weasel this stuff out of me…”
“Maybe I am.” Trevel shrugs, grinning. “Or maybe I’m just the first one to show genuine interest.” The truth in that statement showers me in despondence. Of course he recognizes it immediately. “We’re very much alike, you and I. Even when surrounded by people, we manage to feel alone.”
My head cocks. “You feel that way?”
He nods. “I’ve always been alone. So much so that I…
” His voice trails, and he glances away.
“I was desperate for someone to confide in. As much as I hate to give him credit, Dr. Love helped me immensely.” Before I can inquire any further about this remark, he changes the subject back to me. Yay. “So, bisexual , you say?”
I rub my eyes. “Yes, Trevel…”
“I’m the only person who knows?”
“Officially?” I peer at him, and he’s bustling. “It would appear so…”
“You mean to tell me none of your mates had any idea?” He looks and sounds skeptical of this.
Rightfully so, because it’s a little crazy.
I sigh out loud. “Where are you going with this?”
“I’m just curious how even your nutty pal O’Malley, who apparently made this hole in the mattress for the express purpose of allowing you to suck his dick whenever the mood should strike wouldn’t have at least suspected —”
“You really don’t understand how prison works, do you?” I grumble. “The whole point of the hole was anonymity. Obviously, he knew whose mouth it was, and I knew whose dick it was, but we were pretending we didn’t.”
He blinks at me, eyes rounded in fascination that’s heating my cheeks something fierce. “Like a glory hole?”
My head falls back as I groan, “ Yes … Like a glory hole.”
“That’s wicked.” He claps his hands together in excitement. “Is that why you insisted that I not use your name when we—”
“Please, God, stop talking,” I grunt, finally slinking back down to my own bed, mainly to hide my obviously flushing face.
Of course, he doesn’t let up.
Trevel’s head swoops over the edge of the bunk, and he continues his pestering upside down. “Was O’Malley bi?”
I shrug petulantly. “How would I know?? He insisted he wasn’t, but who can tell around here?
It’s hard to differentiate between those of us who were already questioning things, and those who are really just bored as fuck, passing time with whatever hole is closest.” I remember what Luthor used to always say… “Lines get blurry in here.”
Trevel is quiet for a moment before he asks, “Did you and O’Malley ever…” I glance at his upside-down face, much more serious than a moment ago. “Go further? Than just the mattress glory hole?”
I shake my head vehemently. “If we had, it’d definitely be in the book.” Trevel looks relieved, and it does something weird to my gut that I choose to ignore. “O’Malley was a complicated dude. He had a lot of issues.”
“Don’t we all,” he huffs.
“I mean, like, undiagnosed mental problems,” I add.
“He used to fly off the handle at practically nothing. Had night terrors… He’d scream and throw fits in his sleep, and it was impossible to wake him.
” I can’t help but scoff at the memory. “I could beat the shit out of him in his sleep, and he’d just keep freaking out, totally unconscious. ”
“Wow. That’s… bonkers.”
“I know, right?”
“No, it’s bonkers that you’ve now wound up with two flatmates who suffer from trauma-related night terrors.”
My brows zip. “What?”
“Yea,” he chuckles. “I have night terrors myself. They’re not always that… aggressive. Sometimes, I find myself seeking comfort…” He pauses to bite his lip, face taking on some vulnerability. “Other times, it’s a bit scarier.”
Wait… is that why he keeps coming into my bed at night?
Why I keep waking up with him… next to me?
The curiosity is back, only this time it’s paired with empathy. “Is it because of… something from your past?”
He breathes out, “It would certainly appear so.”
I know I said I didn’t need anything from him in return for my sharing, but I do kind of want it. I’m extremely intrigued by him, and I want to know more.
“I’m… rather fucked up.” He swallows visibly.
Before I can ask him if he wants to tell me about it, he vanishes, pulling himself back up to his bunk. Shutting it down.
Whatever he’s been through must’ve been painful…
Something he doesn’t want getting out.
We stop talking for a while after that, until the lights go off in the row. I know he’s not asleep, though, because I can still feel him moving around up there.
Eventually, I curl up and close my eyes, attempting to get some rest. But his smooth, raspy voice, with that accent I’m beginning to rely on for comfort, comes back. And he speaks into the dark…
“Deep inside. Locked up tight… Far beyond the realm of fright.
Past the past, and dark of night… Farther down than seeker’s sight,
Is housed a perilous plight, yearning calls, surrenders fight.
It isn’t wrong, but not quite right,
For pleasure’s pain, and pain’s delight.”
Too hot.
I’m too… hot.
It’s stifling, the dense heat surrounding me. I don’t understand it… It’s never hot in here. Freezing cold is the permanent temperature in this prison.
Shifting, I try to move; kick the blanket off. But it doesn’t work. I’m being pinned down by something…
A body.
Awareness takes over, and my eyes shoot open, blinking again and again to adjust. I have one arm, but the other is tucked underneath something… Or should I say someone .
Sighing, I rub my eyes with my free hand. “Dammit, Trevel…”
He’s in my bed again. Lying on top of me, drooling on my chest.
Attempting to pry myself out from under him is difficult. He’s like deadweight right now. This must be part of his night terrors… Very different from O’Malley’s.
O’Malley never climbed into my bed to cuddle, that’s for damn sure.
Looking him over, I brush my fingers through his jet-black hair, slicked with sweat at the temples. Apparently, our bodies being pressed together is what’s creating this inferno right now. It brings my attention to his skin, soft and flushed, dewy where we’re connected.
We’re in only our underwear, which is how we both tend to sleep.
I prefer being shirtless as often as I can, but at night, I usually slip out of my pants and just rock the boxer briefs.
I guess Trevel does the same, except that his underwear is definitely more…
brief than boxer . And not that I want to think about it right now, but I’m sort of amazed those skimpy things can contain him.
His dick is… not small by any stretch of the imagination.
A shift of his body brings an involuntary hum from within my chest, along with a sheet of tingles across my exposed flesh.
He’s curled around me like a vine, and what’s worse, our crotches are sort of mashed together.
Even the slightest movement demonstrates how up close and personal our dicks are getting.
Fuck me…
I’ve been trying really hard to push past my obvious attraction to him and just be friends , because it’s what I thought would make the most sense.
But I can’t deny that I’m drawn, like a moth to the flame of his striking beauty, severe features and long, limber body.
I’m attracted as fuck to Trevel Fenwick, and I have been since the moment we met.
He’s pretty, and he has a hot voice, limber yoga body with perfectly taut muscles, and hands that can work you into a trance. Those facts never seem to be far from my mind.
Something huge happened earlier. I was trying to keep the pressure off of it, but in the middle of the night, alone in this dark cell with him lying on top of me, I have no choice but to confront it.
I’m bisexual. I finally came out, to someone else, and to myself. It’s crazy, but I told Trevel the one thing I’ve always been afraid to even say in my own head.
There’s no use hiding it anymore… I like his dick, and I like his body, and it’s all right here , lying in my bed with me. Like forbidden fruit that’s not so forbidden anymore. Ripe for the plucking. Sweet and tight and tempting.
And mine .
“Trevel…” I whisper-whine his name, brushing my fingers through his hair and down his neck, onto his shoulders.
I allow my curious fingertips to graze and explore, burning more and more with each pass. A timer has gone off, and suddenly I need him to wake up so I can get my fix.
God, I want it… I want more.
“Trevel, wake up.” I squirm beneath him, rocking my hips into his, my erection filling rapidly. I’m already rock hard, and I can feel him too; stiff and hot, aching me down to my core. “I want…” My voice is gruff as I swallow. “I wanna play, violet eyes.”