Page 39 of Redstone
And it might be stupid, but Wyllovedthat Robbie was a babbler, he loved that he opened up and let go more and more when they had sex. Robbie was so closed off so much of the time, stern, almost severe; it was an intense and private pleasure to see him lose control of himself in their room. If that pleasure happened to belong only to Wyl, so much the better.
Wyl kept his mouth soft on Robbie’s cock, his suction gentle. Robbie smelled like stale sweat, a clear sign he’d been in uniform too long because those things kept you odor free for at least sixty hours before you had to clean them.
As soon as they were done with this, Wyl was going to book them onto a pleasure cruise and keep Robbie in bed for a week. He would fuck his husband in every configuration he could think of and some he would have to look up; he would take away his senses and gift him with new ones; he would edge him and toy with him and let Robbie possess him completely and do whatever he wanted to him, but now … right now … this was perfect. Just what they both needed, intimate and quiet and close, Robbie was already so close, his breath hitching as Wyl rubbed the calloused pads of his fingers over Robbie’s perineum, stroking the tender skin and curling his thumb over his sac.
Robbie stiffened, went perfectly still, and finally came in long, slow bursts, like his body was simply too tired to fight that hard against the artificial gravity. Wyl swallowed and lapped at the head of Robbie’s cock for a moment, just enough to make Robbie start to curl up from oversensitivity, then pulled off, reaching down to touch himself. He could stroke off fast; it would only take a moment—
“No, c’mere.” Robbie’s hands gripped Wyl’s shoulders, clumsily pulling him up Robbie’s body to lie flat against him, his hard cock pressed to Robbie’s still-slick, softening one. He wrapped his legs around the backs of Wyl’s calves and slowly pushed his hips up. “Like this.”
“Fuck,” Wyl said succinctly, becauseyeah, okay. This would be quick. He put his forehead down on Robbie’s shoulder and started to thrust, rutting hard and fast into Robbie’s groin, both of them sweaty now, but it was fresh and clean, and Robbie moved just enough to give Wyl the friction he needed, just enough to make it easy to come all over his husband, arching his back and gasping despite himself.
“Mmm, babe.” Wyl finally lifted up his head to grin at Robbie, who was—
Passed out. Completely passed out, clinging to Wyl like a fucking barnacle out of long habit but so unconscious that Wyl could already see his eyes swimming under their bruised lids.
Wyl sighed. So much for the afterglow. On the other hand, now that Robbie was sacked out, and Wyl’s own nervous energy was finally spent, he could dedicate some time to fixing up the device he’d need to get to Tamara. He leaned forward and kissed Robbie gently on the lips. “I’ll just clean us up, then,” he murmured and gently picked his way out of his husband’s embrace, then headed for the bathroom.
Chapter nineteen
Nearly all of life for prisoners in Redstone necessitated a waiting game.
They waited for food, most of them crowding around the troughs that opened in the walls like the pigs they were forced to imitate, the more powerful or the weakest ones hanging back to be served by subordinates or steal a bite when no one was watching.
They waited for a chance to get clean: the showers came on once a day, for five minutes. Cold to wet you down, briefly hot with a spray of soap to cleanse, then cold again. There were two rooms for showering, ostensibly divided by gender, but in reality, one belonged to Klia, one to Rory. There was a hierarchy of cleanliness as with everything, and if you weren’t part of a crew, you either had to beg a bucket from someone, find a new source for water, or risk getting naked in among the press of some of the worst humans the Alliance had to offer. Outrightrape was common and “voluntary servicing” in the showers even more so.
Prisoners waited for the most basic of amenities with wild-eyed fear, resigned acceptance, and feral, savage glee. Prisoners who ran the show made other people wait for them, but in the end,everybodywaited. The constant lack of occupation led to people making their own, mostly in the worst ways possible. Blood sports, gambling, sex, and murder: they were brutal pastimes, but at least they gave people something to do.
An unexpected side effect of his new, strange status in Redstone was that Isidore suddenly hadmorefree time than he’d had before. It wasn’t a welcome development. He was a master trader, the man who could get people things that worked in strange ways, in surprising ways. He could help piece together a revenge or soothe an ache or shed a ray of light into darkness so complete it felt like being inside a cold, dead womb at times. He traded for what he needed, and he had enough spare parts set aside that he could afford to trade for Kyle as well.
It took time to make all the things that people wanted, though, and that pleasantly occupied time had before now been the best part of his day. After coming to an accord with Rory, though …
“Hello, pet,” Pence purred as he suddenly appeared in their section of the hall. Kyle started, and the only reason Isidore didn’t jump was because he was welding something and had trained himself out of being surprised when he was holding the sort of heat that could melt metal. He turned his machine off and glared at Pence.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wished for a glimpse into the heart of the dragon, where you two darling boys have made your hearth and home!” he said with a smile. “I must say, it’s just as uncomfortable as advertised. How on earth do you stand the pull?”
“Willpower.” In reality, Isidore was so used to the way the iron tugged at his blood that he barely noticed it now. Kyle had so recently been in the tank that his body was still minimizing the side effects: the nausea, the headaches, the way the magnetism could make your skin crawl. Hopefully they’d be out of there by the time their surroundings really began to tell on him. “What do you want?”
“I came to deliver your offerings, of course.”
“What kind of offerings?” Kyle asked, trying not to show his sudden interest. What was occupation for Isidore wasn’t quite as entertaining for Kyle, who was a decent engineer but didn’t find inspiration in it.
“Pure and holy offerings of esteem and sacrifice, to the man who went to a one-on-one meeting with Rory and lived to tell the tale, little lamb,” Pence said, slinging a bag off his shoulder and laying it out on the ground.
“Don’t be an asshole,” Isidore said with a sigh.
“I can be a dick instead if that’s more your style, love,” Pence said instantly. Kyle almost smiled, which delighted the interloper. “Aw, your lamb likes me, Isidore. Doesn’t his regard soften your heart toward me?”
“No, not really.” There was only one way this was going to end, though, and that was with Pence making his presentation. “Fine. Show me what you’ve brought.”
“First, let me just say how utterly horrifying it was to be hunted down by representatives from the biggest sides in our never-ending battle and then told I was the perfect delivery boy,” Pence said, a frown coming to his ruddy face. “I didn’t think my favoritism was that blatant, but then, I’m not good at ignoring beautiful things, and you’ve not beaten me senseless yet, so I suppose people were bound to think we liked each other.”
“Which is wrong.”
“Oh, darling, don’t play coy. You know I adore you,” Pence said brightly. “If I didn’t, I would just have kept all these wonderful supplies for myself. Yet here I am, laying them at your feet.”
“You would never have held onto them by yourself,” Isidore retorted. “You’d have been mugged in a matter of minutes if you hadn’t brought this stuff down to me.”
