CHAPTER 14 SHAWN—SHOWERS
Lockdown's third day, and the one good thing to come out of it is standing right in front of Shawn: showers running one cell at a time now, guard posted at the end of the hall instead of hovering the room, twenty minutes on the clock instead of the usual scramble of elbows and eyes.
Twenty minutes. Alone. Water hot enough to fog the mirror that isn't there.
Jorge steps in behind him before the door's even fully shut, and neither of them wastes a second pretending this is about getting clean.
"Guard just started his round," Jorge says, voice low, already reaching for the hem of Shawn's shirt. "Twenty minutes. Maybe less."
"Then quit talking."
Jorge doesn't need telling twice. Has Shawn's shirt off and his own gone right after, both of them stepping under the spray together, water sluicing down over old scars and new want in equal measure.
Jorge's mouth finds his instantly, hard, no buildup necessary after four days of stolen half-seconds, and Shawn moans into it loud enough that Jorge has to pull back and press a wet hand over his own mouth as reminder more than warning.
"Quiet," Jorge murmurs, water running down his jaw. "Even now."
"Trying."
Jorge doesn't wait for better than trying.
Drops to his knees on the wet tile, and Shawn's hand slaps against the shower wall for balance the second Jorge's mouth closes around him, no hesitation, no teasing, straight to the kind of pressure that has Shawn's knees threatening to give out in under a minute.
"Fuck, Jorge—"
Jorge takes him deep, water running down both their bodies, one hand gripping Shawn's hip hard enough to bruise while the other works the base of his cock in time with his mouth.
Shawn's fingers find Jorge's wet hair, fisting without meaning to, hips rocking forward on instinct until Jorge lets him, lets him fuck his mouth in short, desperate thrusts with the clock burning down behind both their eyes.
He pulls off just before Shawn tips over, breathing hard, and stands, spinning Shawn around by the hip and pressing him face-first into the tile.
"Fifteen minutes," Jorge says against his ear, voice wrecked. "Gotta be fast."
"Then be fast."
Two fingers, slick with nothing but water and spit, press into him without much preamble, Jorge working him open rough and quick instead of the slow patience of the first time, both of them chasing the clock instead of each other now.
Shawn braces against the wall, tile cold under his palms even with the water running hot, and pushes back onto Jorge's fingers with a groan he barely manages to swallow.
"More," Shawn breathes. "Don't have time for gentle."
"Wasn't planning gentle."
Jorge lines himself up and drives in with one hard, deep thrust, no easing into it, and Shawn's shout gets muffled against his own forearm just in time.
Jorge doesn't wait for him to adjust, sets a brutal pace immediately, water slapping between them, the slick sound of it lost under the spray but not lost enough, not with the guard's boots somewhere down that same hallway.
"Christ, you're tight—" Jorge's voice breaks on it, hips snapping forward hard enough to shove Shawn up against the tile.
"Don't stop. Ten minutes, don't you dare stop—"
Jorge doesn't. Fucks him hard and fast, one hand fisted in Shawn's wet hair and the other wrapped around his cock, stroking in time with every thrust until Shawn's shaking apart against the wall, orgasm ripping through him silent except for the broken sound he can't fully swallow, spilling over Jorge's fist and the tile both.
Jorge follows seconds later, grip tightening, thrusts stuttering off rhythm, groaning Shawn's name low into the wet skin of his shoulder as he comes.
They stay pressed together a second longer than they should, water running cold now, both of them breathing like they've run somewhere instead of just stood still.
"Five minutes," Jorge says, voice still rough.
"Plenty of time to actually get clean, then."
Jorge almost laughs, catches it, grabs the bar of soap instead and shoves it into Shawn's hand.
Neither one of them hears the guard's boots stop just outside the door.