Page 114 of Caged In

It takes him a moment to realise he’s right on the edge. He’s so close. “I’m going to cum—” He barely has the word past his lips before he’s biting the pillow under his face to muffle his scream. His body spasming with the intensity. His mind fogging and clearing, fogging and clearing.

He’s vaguely aware of Sin cutting into him. Slicing . . .

Izz sobs. His oversensitive nerves sending pain signals through his lust. “Please—”

“Hush, now,” Sin shifts above Izz, gripping his hips to sink in to the hilt. “You’ll beg when I tell you to beg. Not before.”

Izz complies, his breathing shallowing. Small gasps following each deep penetration, hitting the place within, sending sparks throughout his nerve endings. His pleasure building and growing with every push and pull of Sin’s cock.

Izz flinches at the kiss of the blade, running up his spine. The promise of what’s to come. . . What he’s begging for . . .

His breath hisses as Sin grabs his hair, tugging his head back, exposing his throat. His internal voice sparks with warning—warnings he ignores—flooding his body with adrenaline. His lips part and he does nothing to prevent the blade pressing under his jaw—

How many people have died under Sin’s blade? How many have felt the deadly pressure promising pain, promising death. Unable to move away, to pull back, their throats slit. Delicate skin giving way under a sharp blade.

Sin handles the weapon as if he’s performed this manoeuvre a thousand times. Confidently and with controlled purpose . . .

The pressure increases . . . A burning sting registering before the tell-talewarmth follows. Blood trickling free. . .

How deep is the wound . . . ?

How much blood is he losing . . . ?

How much can he afford to lose . . . before his body gives out?

. . .Am I going to die today. . . ?

“You’re mine,” Sin growls, pressing deep inside as he claims Izz at his throat and between his legs. “To do with as I desire. . .”

36

Izz moves slowly down the stairs. Using the railsto do the majority of the work of holding him off the floor. His body is aching and throbbing in various places. Including his thighs and ass.

Under his prison-issued clothes he wears an array of bandages. Sin is a rather good little nurse, with the patch-up job. Applying something which stung like a bitch, and is supposedly to prevent infections.

Izz had weakly accused Sin of using it out of pure sadism. He’d been teased for not being able to handle the pain. It had been a relief once the bandages were applied to the injuries to give them a reprieve.

Though it doesn’t help him walk. He also isn’t a baby, and he is starving. So here he is, gritting his teeth as he takes the final step off the stairs.

He feels like giving himself a pat on the back for making it without falling down.

He’s sporting a noticeable limp he tries his best to disguise. Shuffling along slowly with Sin by his side. The male slowing his strides so Izz can keep up. Glancing over at Izz every second to check on him.

“Quit staring. I’m fine. Just a little stiff.” And he is fine. Sure he aches somewhat, but it doesn’t take away from his enjoyment of what he and Sin have done.

Sin hums, not believing Izz for a second, “you sure you’re not bleeding or—”

“I’m fine, quit worrying.” Look at him, telling a serial killer not to worry about his health. Not a place he would haveenvisioned his life being at—to be comfortable enough to order around a serial killer.

What has my life become?

He never would have remotely guessed his life would have come to this. To be limping inside prison because his serial killer— . . . boyfriend . . . ?—has used his body as a carving canvas and Izz begged him to do it—

Is Sin his boyfriend? Or are they only fuckbuddies?

I’d like it to be more than merely a hook up . . .

“You keep grunting when you walk,” Sin grips Izz’s elbow when Izz wobbles to the left slightly more than intended on his next step.

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