Page 29 of Possession

I don’t want to wear it in front of Lucas.

“Come on, big guy. Better while it’s my shift.”

He’s not wrong. If I don’t shower now, it might be Briggs who takes me. There won’t be extras, and I have Lucas to think about.

I get up from the mattress. Normally, I don’t bother dressing for the walk to the shower, but today I pull on my sweatpants. Then, crouching beside the mattress to block O’Neil’s view with my body, I hand Lucas his jeans.

Him coming with me is nonnegotiable. I won’t be separated from him. Maybe O’Neil already assumed that because he doesn’t say anything when I draw Lucas to his feet and make him walk with me to the bars.

I can feel Lucas’s eyes on me, but I don’t look at him as I grab the collar from the crossbeam. My stomach turns as I strap it around my neck with the prongs at my throat.

Fuck, why does it feel so awful? It’s not like I’m not used to it. It’s not even like Lucas has never seen me wearing it. I was wearing it the first time I laid eyes on him.

But it feels different now. I feel … fuck, I don’t know. I don’t like it.

O’Neil opens the cell gate and stands aside. I have to precede him to the locker room. Even with the remote for the shock collar in his hand, even with a gun, baton, and taser at his belt, he would never trust me at his back. He’s right not to.

I tug Lucas until he’s in front of me because I don’t trust O’Neil either. I don’t want him behind Lucas.

Lucas looks over his shoulder. I can tell he’s just uncertain, trying to ask what this is about, but I’m not prepared to have his eyes on me. I think I’ve lost the knack of schooling my expressions. Men who try to put up a front in places like this don’t survive. You only survive by actually becoming something else, something not human, and not-human things don’t guard their expressions.

I haven’t needed to for years because my expression has only ever been predatory. But now …

Fuck.

I don’t know what’s on my face, but it makes Lucas’s eyes soften. He reaches for my hand.

I pull away.

His face does something that I can’t interpret. He’s not angry, but he’s not happy either. He looks forward and starts walking.

“The hallway,” O’Neil calls out from the back when Lucas assumes incorrectly and angles toward the guardroom door.

We traverse the dim hallway that runs along the outside of the cinderblock guardroom until it ends at a steel door that’s propped open. Lucas glances back again.

I’m doing better now, so I’m able to nod at Lucas to tell him it’s okay. He proceeds into the stairwell. We climb to the top, where another steel door is propped open to let us into the shower area of the locker room.

A half wall contains the open bay of showers. I stop and strip off my pants, draping them over the half wall beside the waiting towel, bar of soap, and electric razor.

“Should I …?” Lucas asks incompletely.

Shifting to keep myself between him and O’Neil, I nod. The movement pushes the prongs against my throat, reminding me that I’m collared like a dog.

Lucas strips off his jeans and lays them beside my sweats, exposing the hickeys I left along his groin to mark him as mine. They soothe me slightly.

Lucas glances at me again then goes through the opening into the shower bay. Following, I hand him the electric razor.

He stares at it like he’s unsure what I want him to do with it. I gesture at his face. He can shave if he wants.

He struggles with it. He’s probably used to blades, but that’s not an option here. After a few minutes, I take the razor back from him. Gently gripping his jaw, I tilt his head and clean up the remaining light stubble from his face and throat. As I work, I soothe myself with the sight of the marks I left on his neck to claim him. No one can doubt that he’s mine.

His eyes drift halfway closed as I work. He relaxes. A little color blooms in his cheeks. I let my eyes drift down to his slightly thickened cock.

“Sorry,” he whispers when I’m done shaving him. “I don’t why I’m so … it just … it feels good when you touch me.”

My breath catches. I wish we were alone, but we’re not, so all I can do is reach out and pet his hair to show him that I like touching him.

I get to work shaving my own face. O’Neil is more patient than Briggs and the others, but it won’t last forever.

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