Page 96 of Caged In

Coming down from his high is a task in and of itself. His mind floating back down. Grounding him to his body once more. To the prison. To the cell. To Sin . . .

“Thank you,” Izz murmurs in a tone riddled with sleep. His body slackening in Sin’s arms. Consciousness slowly seeping away from him.

30

Izz momentarily freaks out when he stretches and discovers he’s not sleeping alone in his bunk. His eyes shoot open as his heart jackhammers under his sternum. Until his eyes latch onto a wall littered with devil drawings, and he recalls the night before.

How is he still in Sin’s cell? The guards’ surely know, they do Count every night.

Izz groans at the thought of the Count guard seeing him passed out in Sin’s bunk. He hopes he wasn’t naked. He does have a blanket over him now, it would stand to reason Sin put it on them before the guard showed for Count?

Izz peers behind him, to a sleeping serial killer. He has to admit, Sin doesn’t look deadly while asleep. With all his features relaxed, his dark eyes closed. It’s easy to forget who he is. And everything he’s done to others.

Slowly, Izz extracts himself from the other’s arm, shuffling off the bed, to use the metal toilet—

Stopping short when he catches sight of his reflection. He is littered with bruises. Leaning into the fake mirror, he probes the ring of bruises circling his neck. His shoulder is likewise black and blue, turning at an angle he can see the purple and red bite mark Sin put in his skin.

His hips are showing the same treatment. Finger sized bruises—he hadn’t realised just how hard Sin had been holding him. He was aware the grip was strong at the time, but hadn’t expected to be heavily bruised from it.

Izz resembles someone who’s had their ass ploughed. There is no way to mistake the markings. If he went to the showers with the rest of the prison population they will all see them, and know exactly what happened. Well . . . Maybe not exactly. If he hadn’tknown better, he would think the bruises came from a victim who was forced into the act.

I was the opposite of forced.

Izz quite likes the bruises, they look hot on him. He loves wearing the claiming marks Sin has given him—

“You feeling alright,” Sin yawns from his bunk. Sheets flapping as he shifts around to a different position.

“Huh. Oh. Yes, I’m good. Was inspecting what you left behind,”and imagining what it will be like to add more to the growing collection. The bruises, the tattoo . . . He wants more.

“Regrets,” Sin questions in his usual way, a statement to be answered.

Do I regret them?

Twisting to get a better look at the bite on his neck, Izz runs his hand over the marred flesh.

Nah, he doesn’t regret any of them.

No, I definitely want more.

“No. No. Nothing like that. It’s actually pretty hot, if I say so myself. I’m looking rather fine,” Izz half jokes, splashing water over his face to wake himself up. He’s still pretty groggy, but not as fatigued as he usually finds himself in the mornings. As if for the first time since he arrived in this Hell-hole he’s had an undisturbed nights rest.

Although his ass is throbbing. A dull little tingle which has him remembering everything he and Sin did together . . .

“I’m sorry I passed out after you got me off. Do you want me to return the favour?” Izz asks, walking over to use Sin’s toilet. It would only be polite and he also sort of, kind of, wants to . . . He wants to see if he can make Sin feel as good as Sin made him feel.

The last part of their activities. Not the first bit. That hurt. Is still hurting. How is he going to be able to stand going the whole way with Sin? He can’t even handle taking half—

“No,” Sin’s response is short. Sharp. Almost bored.

“You sure? I could like . . .” Izz rubs the back of his neck, unable to look in Sin’s direction, “ . . . blow you—or something.”

Why is he so awkward and shy around Sin? It’s not as though he’d never been with anyone before. It just feels . . . different with Sin. For some reason. Though he can’t figure out why.

Is it because Sin’s so dangerous?—according to the other inmates. Or is it because they are in prison?

“No,” Sin repeats in the same nonchalant tone.

Is Sin mad at him?

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