Page 20 of Endangered Species
Cy groaned. “You can’t just say that stuff.”
“Why?” Webster asked, sliding his hand down to feel Cy’s semi-hard cock.
“You know why, you little tease,” Cy growled, pushing himself up into Webster’s touch.
Webster knew their conversation was important, life or death even, but he never wanted to stop touching Cy. He rolled on top of him, a whine catching in his throat as their cocks slotted together. He dragged his lips over Cy’s, tongue sliding out to taste him. “I can’t help it. You always smell so good. You feel so good. Think I can make you come again before the second bed check?”
Cy flipped them, catching Nicky’s hands and settling between his open thighs. “Uh uh. My turn.”
Webster’s legs came around his waist, rocking up into him, his breath leaving him in a gasp as pleasure arced along his nerve endings. “Oh, fuck. That feels good.”
Cy buried his face in Webster’s throat. “You like that?”
“Fuck, yeah. Keep going.”
Cy’s low chuckle raised goosebumps along Webster’s skin. Cy was the only good thing about this godforsaken place. He was truly the only good thing Webster ever remembered in his life. He had friends and a job, but relationships had never been for him. Nobody really got him. They didn’t understand his need for distance one minute and his fear of abandonment the next. They didn’t understand wanting to belong only to one person while living every minute in fear they’d be ripped away from you. Cy did. He’d lived through it with Webster.
Webster clung tighter, his mouth sliding against Cy’s, his tongue pressing past the seam of his mouth to lazily invade it, matching his movements to the frantic rocking of their bodies. He ripped his mouth away, biting at Cy’s earlobe, as he felt his orgasm build. “Fuck. Just like that. I’m so close.”
Webster dug his heels into Cy’s ass, spurring him to move faster, go harder. He was teetering on the brink; he just needed one more thing to push him over the edge. “Tell me I’m yours.”
“You’re mine,” Cy growled in his ear without hesitation. “You’ve always been mine. Mine to protect. Just mine.”
Webster cried out as he came between them, his release coating them both, easing the friction of their bodies as Cy rutted against him. “Yeah, that’s it,” Webster crooned, his hand running over Cy’s sweat-slicked body, before kissing his throat, tasting the salt of his skin.
Cy’s whole body tensed as he went up on his hands, looking between their bodies as he thrust two more times before painting his release over Webster’s stomach and chest. He then collapsed back on him, trapping the mess they’d made between them.
Webster grimaced, then laughed, weirdly euphoric considering the pit in his stomach. “Do you think we’d get along on the outside?” he asked eventually. “Like, if you’d met me again in my dorky black polo shirt and khakis and I spent my days talking about comic books and pop culture, would you still want me, you think?”
“Will you still want me when I get out next year and I come home every day smelling like a kennel from cleaning dog cages and I want to adopt a hundred stray dogs and I make barely enough to feed us?”
Webster smiled. “Is that where you go when you’re not working in the laundry? Is that why you sometimes smell like a wet dog?”
“Yeah, I train service dogs. It’s a special program. My dog right now is Rosie. She’s a pitbull, and she’s really stubborn.”
“My friend Robby and his husband live on a ranch, and they have tons of rescue animals. I’d be okay with that life. Besides, I make enough money for both of us. My boss is very generous.”
Neither of them was willing to mention the reality of their situation. They didn’t know each other anymore. They were practically strangers. That maybe this was just a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. That there was a good chance that one or both of them wouldn’t ever walk out of there. It was just too fucking depressing. It felt like the entire universe was aligned against them, and, for once, Webster wasn’t just being grandiose.
Once they were cleaned up and dressed, each of them in their own bunks, Cy asked, “Does anybody know what you know about your computer program? Has anybody else seen the information?”
“I’m not really sure. Why?”
“Maybe they wanted to discredit you first. If you look like a hacker, a criminal, then you’re just like us. Untrustworthy. Maybe they don’t just want you dead, they want your reputation ruined, too.”
“Yeah, maybe. But my boss has the data, and he’s not just going to let this go, even if I end up dead. Especially if I end up dead. And Elite’s got resources and connections way bigger than some cops and the warden.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Nicky. It’s not just the cops or this place. It’s judges, court clerks, senators. A lot of people have their fingers in this pie. If your boss knows this information, then he’s in danger, too.”
That was the thing about both Linc and Linc’s boss, Jackson. They considered their employees family, and they wouldn’t stop just because there was something dangerous happening. Shit, if anything, they’d be like a dog with a bone.
“They can’t kill us all. They can discredit me. They can kill me. But if my entire team starts to disappear, it’s not like people aren’t going to start asking questions.”
The metal framed creaked as Cy moved, peeking over the edge. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Webster gave him a half smile. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, either. You’ve already lost twenty years of your life because of me.”
Cy shook his head then disappeared. “No. I lost twenty years of my life because of Phoebe. She killed my father. She framed me. You were a baby. You tried to tell the truth on the stand, and they tore you apart.”
