Caged In (Caged Prison #1)

29

His whole body is agitated, restless, as Izz leaves the laundry room. Eating all those sugary treats hadn’t been a hot idea. His blood is pumping in his ears and he’s fighting the urge to sprint down the corridors for no reason other than to run.

Looks like I can still get hyped up on sugar.

He jogs back to A-Wing. Stomping his way over the second-floor platform to the cell at the end. Throwing his arms wide, “I’m home,” he exclaims at the empty Satanic cell.

Izz’s inner crazy is reviving. Now that he isn’t constantly glancing over his shoulder and worrying about someone shivving him, he is beginning to come out of his protective shell. To show his true colours . . . his true personality.

“Remind me not to feed you chocolate.”

“You’re just jealous ‘cause I’m having fun, while you brood around all . . . broody,” Izz grins, spinning to face the other as he steps backwards into his second cell. He’s sure he spends more time here than his actual cell. He has basically moved in—

Maybe he can? Sinn'ous doesn’t have a cellmate—

Nah, he likes living with Reni, the man is funny and a good friend—and what if mister serial killer is a sleepwalker, huh? He doesn’t want to wake up in those conditions, especially if Sinie kills in his sleep.

“I’m going to call you Sinie,” Izz declares. Practically bellowing the nickname in his excitement.

“You will not.”

“Ugh, fine. How about . . .” Izz taps his chin in thought. “. . . Sin? Yeah. That’s it. You are now officially Sin—”

Izz’s back hits the wall faster than he can blink. The side of his leg pressing up tight against the sleeping bunk. Sinn'ous’s hand pinning him to the wall by his chest. Holding him flat to the cold bricks—or whatever is under the whitewashed uneven paint job.

Swallowing hard, Izz tilts his head back staring directly into dark eyes. Watching the brown flecks dance within black irises. The sheer danger lurking at the surface . . .

Izz’s guts churn, his lungs constricting in their caged confines. His body terrified he’s pushed Sinn'ous too far. Overstepped.

“Are—” Izz releases a shuddering breath, “are you going to kill me?”

Sinn'ous’s head tilts to the side ever so slightly. A spark of excitement flashing through his eyes. “Perhaps.” He leans in, bringing his chest flush with Izz’s. “Or perhaps . . . I’ll do this . . .”

Izz can see Sinn'ous is moving in to kiss him. It’s deliberately slow, he is given enough time to turn his head away or tell Sinn'ous to stop. He doesn’t. He allows the contact. Allows the soft lips to press against his own. He would not have guessed a serial killer could have such soft warm lips.

He hums as the kiss deepens, opening up to the tongue licking over his lips for entry. Smooth and silky. Their tongues moving together as one. Like he’s been kissing Sinn'ous for years. Their tempo matching perfectly . . . Addictively.

Izz breaks the kiss, his body heating with anticipation. “I want it. With you.” Izz breathlessly whispers to Sinn'ous, gripping the male’s hips to draw him in closer.

“You sure . . .” Sinn'ous lazily stretches his arms out, caging Izz in against the wall. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll protect you either way.”

“I’m sure.” And he is, he has wanted it for some time now. “Hell, the first time I saw you I thought you were hot as fuck. I would have introduced myself, only my cellmate told me . . .” He gestures vaguely around with his hand, to indicate Sinn'ous’s reputation within the prison, “. . . You know.”

Sinn'ous makes a noise that could be anything from a ‘yeah I know what I did’ to a ‘yeah, those rumours are vastly over exaggerated’.

Izz’s starting to think maybe they are. He’s seen nothing but nice intentions from Sinn'ous. Surely he’s not all bad—

Izz gasps in alarm as he’s unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, bouncing on the mattresses as they protest his harsh invasion.

“Hey,” Izz yells, sitting up, “what did you do that for—”

He’s cut off by a hand wrapping around his throat, shoving him back into the bunk, pinning him down as Sinn'ous braces over him. Looming above him—he would be terrified at the look on the male’s face, if he doesn’t trust Sinn'ous with his life. Trust Sinn'ous not to kill him.

“You’re mine,” Sinn'ous growls, his hand tightening around Izz’s throat. “All mine. No one else can touch you.”

It’s difficult to breathe. Wheezing in shallow pulls to try to draw air inside his lungs. His mind screaming at him to give it more oxygen. His body begging him to arch his back and rub up into the heavy weight over it, to relieve some pressure—who knew being choked would turn him on so much.

Sinn'ous bites Izz’s lip, relinquishing the hold on Izz’s neck just enough so the smaller inmate doesn’t pass out, “you’re gorgeous when you’re helpless.”

Is he supposed to answer? Or is it an involuntary confession Sinn'ous didn’t mean to say out loud?

All he knows is he wants more, he craves it. “Please,” he moans, giving in to his body’s urge to arch. Digging his nails into Sinn'ous’s sides.

His head is forced to the side, a soft velvety tongue sliding over his hot flesh.

“Roll onto your stomach,” Sinn'ous murmurs into his ear.

Izz doesn’t hesitate to follow his order. Squirming his way over. Sinn'ous is no help, staying put, not budging an inch to give him room to move. He has to manoeuvre in the tight space between the prison mattresses and the male’s thick coiled muscles.

He’s a hundred percent a bottom. He loves this feeling. Loves the heavyweight pinning him down. Loves how dominated he feels. How overpowered, yet he isn’t completely helpless. He trusts in the male holding him down. Knows Sinn'ous will stop if he asks.

Izz grips the sheets above his head as his pants are slid down. Two large hands grasping his ass, massaging it roughly. He bites the bed to hold back his cries. He doesn’t need the whole prison hearing him fall apart. It’s bad enough he can hear their loud voices bouncing off the cell’s walls’, he doesn’t need them knowing what he and Sinn'ous are up to.

The hem of his shirt is tugging up, and he assists to throw the grey fabric across the room—to land wherever. All he cares about is it being off his body and out of the way so Sinn'ous has access to him. Access to all of him.

Frustration growing at his pants still clinging to his legs. Covering his legs. Blocking the skin on skin contact he desperately craves. Desperately needs.

Sinn'ous takes care of it. Shoving backwards to strip everything off Izz’s lower half. From his prison pants to his socks and shoes. The whole lot thrown off in one sweep. Leaving him completely bare to the male’s hungry eyes.

Izz nervously glances over his shoulder, feeling self-conscious—

His thoughts dissolve as he watches Sinn'ous removing his own clothes. Tattoos flashing in all their glory. Bright in the dim cell. Standing out against his flawless skin.

Whoa, I forgot how good he looks without his clothes on.

Izz had tried not to look at Sinn'ous in the showers. Tried to avoid studying every detail. Now though . . . he can take it all in.

The blood splatters littering Sinn'ous’s body. From the blood pools on each shoulder dripping crimson down his upper arms. To the deep red ink spreading out over the inside of his thighs—splattering, to dust the tops and backs.

Izz tucks his arms under himself, pushing his upper body off the bunk so he can turn over. He wants a better view of Sinn'ous—

“No,” a sharp order, followed by a hand pushing Izz back down, “I want you like this.”

“O-okay. . .” Izz surrenders, stretching his arms out once more. Keeping himself in the position Sin wants him in. He wants to appease Sinn'ous, wants to impress and do whatever pleases Sin.

Izz whimpers as hands tug his hips up, obediently keeping his chest on the mattress. His ass on display for the male behind him. He can’t see what the other is doing, he can, however, hear small clicking sounds—

Slickened fingers trail between his ass cheeks, telling him Sinn'ous has some form of lube. Something Izz completely forgot about in his strung-out state. At least one of them can think clearly enough to do the prep work. Because he sure can’t.

He tenses as a finger brushes over his entrance. He can’t help it. Yes, he wants this, but he’s so nervous—is it going to be painful?

“Relax,” Sinn'ous orders softly, his other hand massaging Izz’s hip to calm him down.

He tries his best, tries to be good for Sin. To do as he’s told—

All thoughts cease as a finger works its way into his hole. Pushing past the tight rim. The lube helping it slide inside with ease. It feels strange. Burning its way inside. His muscles contracting around it as he tries to breathe through the strange sensations plaguing his body.

The stretch isn’t painful. Tight and hot. But not painful. Sinn'ous is slow and methodical, gently pushing in the intruding digit. Rubbing Izz’s insides delicately with the smooth pad of his finger.

Working him into a frenzy. His back arching, his muscles relaxing to open up. Allowing Sinn'ous to enter with less friction—

The second finger sings, Izz hisses and tries to pull away—

A hand grips his hip, holding him firmly, keeping him still as the second finger slides in to join the first. The stretch intensifying as Sinn'ous slides his fingers in and out. Building to a rhythm which has Izz panting and rocking back to meet each intrusion.

“Don’t stop. Feels good,” Izz gasps, shifting his knees, widening his legs to move into a more comfortable position.

It’s over all too soon, the fingers retreating to pop free. He would have protested, if the mattresses didn’t shift. Indicating Sinn'ous is moving in closer behind him.

“Fuck. . .” Izz breathes out, his arms stretching out in front of him to grip the edge of the bed. His entire body shaking in anticipation.

This is really happening.

His ass cheeks are spread open, and a blunt head nudging at him. He tries his best to relax. To not tense. It’s harder than he thinks. His body automatically tightening in defence—

Izz grits his teeth as Sinn'ous pushes, the head popping past his first ring. A burning pain following the penetration. Heat radiating along his spine and down the insides of his thighs.

His grip tightens, white knuckling the bed below him. It’s a lot to take in. The burn, the stretch, his whole body lighting up to an inferno of sensations, making it hard to breathe.

“You alright.” Sin sounds as if he’s holding on by a thread. It must feel incredible to him, tight and warm.

Shit. Izz never realised how much it burns to be penetrated. Did it feel like this to everyone he’d been with?

“It burns. Can you—can you give me a minute?”

“Take your time. Relax. You’re doing exceptionally,” Sinn'ous flexes, shifting his position, which results in pushing him a little further in.

Izz rocks forward to ease the burn, to prevent Sinn'ous sinking deeper—but the grip on his hips keeps him locked in place. Holding him still as he tries desperately to relax. To stop his muscles tensing around Sin who is barely inside him.

“You’re taking me so well,” Sinn'ous praises. Pressing forward with his hips to slide in further. More of his length entering Izz.

“D-doesn’t feel like I am.” Izz grits out, his arm muscles shaking with how hard he’s gripping the mattresses. He feels as if Sinn'ous is beyond his capabilities to handle. Way too big, and he knows Sin isn’t even close to being halfway inside.

He hears Sinn'ous chuckle, feels the vibrations through the cock buried inside him. Sin fists his hands by Izz’s head, holding his weight off Izz’s back as he leans over him. Shielding Izz from the world, caging him in. Keeping him pinned.

“Get up on all fours. The angle change will help you adjust.”

Izz does. His back hitting Sinn'ous’s chest. He’s so much smaller than the other when he’s under Sin like this. He’s utterly aware of their size differences. Of how much muscle mass Sin holds over him. How easy it would be for Sin to take whatever he wants from Izz.

“It’s not helping, Sin . . .” Izz whines, as the change in position moves Sin deeper, tugging at his straining hole. A fire igniting its way through his stomach, twisting and flickering.

“Helps take your mind off it,” Sin sounds way too amused by this whole thing.

Izz scoffs, his arms shaking while trying to support his weight. His whole body damp with a sheen of cold sweat.

“Liar,” he accuses, letting his head hang on his shoulders, too weak to hold it up any longer. He feels as though he is going to collapse at any moment.

“Allows me to do this,” Sinn'ous bites onto Izz’s shoulder, causing Izz to cry out, the stinging pain at odds with the burning between his legs.

And Sin is right. The sting helps draw attention away from the cock breaching his entrance and rearranging his inside. But it doesn’t dull the pain. Doesn’t help the stretching.

He pushes up against Sin’s chest, trying to find an angle to help him cope. His body filling with a mixture of too many sensations to name. He isn’t sure if he wants to moan or start crying. Maybe a bit of both.

Turns out Sin is correct—somewhat—with the position change. The pain level is gradually subsiding, pleasure building to take its place, slowly becoming bearable. It may have more to do with his body adjusting to the stretch and not so much to do with his change in positions. He doesn’t mind either way, he’s just glad it isn’t a blazing fire anymore.

“You alright for me to move,” Sinn'ous licks over the bite mark he’s put in Izz’s shoulder.

A soothing gesture? Or possessive demand?

“Yes,” Izz breathes out. Choking on his breath as Sin shifts. Kissing up his neck to lick and suck under his ear. Is Sin trying to comfort or distract him? Either way, the affectionate touching is helping Izz deal with everything else.

“Let me know if it becomes too much,” Sin nips gently at Izz’s ear lobe, “I’m not into rape.”

Before Izz can decipher what Sinn'ous said, the male is rising to grip Izz’s hips. Starting at a leisurely pace. Rotating his hips with each shallow thrust. Entering slightly deeper each time. Inserting more of his cock with each forward thrust.

Izz’s skin is clammy. His body shaking. His mind fritzing out. He can’t determine if it is pleasure—or displeasure—to the unnatural sensations. His eyes drift back between his legs, to see his erection bobbing. At least his dick is taking the feelings to be pleasurable.

His mind isn’t so sure. He’s not sure he’s enjoying it. Is he overthinking it? Is it years of society saying this is wrong? Or is it his own mind telling him he isn’t into it . . . ?

But it feels so good. . .

Shit.

“W-wait. Wait,” Izz gasps. Sticking his arm back to grip Sin’s thigh. As if his weak noodle arm will stop anything.

To Izz’s relief, Sinn'ous stills, “you need a minute to adjust?” Sin asks, as he leans back over, to brace his fist on the bed. His other hand rubbing up and down Izz’s side, stroking. Trying to loosen him up.

“No—yes. I mean. I don’t know,” he doesn’t know how to describe what he’s minds going though—

“You feeling overwhelmed,” Sin nips at Izz’s neck, sucking on the delicate skin.

“A little,” Izz confesses. His muscles tensing as his mind and body fight to control his reactions. His body says yes, but his mind . . .

The caressing from Sin is helping him. Helping connect him to his body, keep his mind focused. But he still feels . . . off . . .

“We can go at your pace. It’s natural to feel overwhelmed the first time.”

Is it? He doesn’t know. How is it supposed to feel? His mind is splitting into two different thought processes. One screaming at him to keep going, to give in. The other one is huddling in the corner trying to hide away.

“I don’t think I like it,” Izz blurts, pinching his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to disappoint Sin. But he can’t shake off the weird feelings inside himself. “I mean, I do. But I . . .” How does he describe what is in his mind?

Sinn'ous kisses his shoulder blade, then shifts, carefully pulling free. Causing Izz to grunt as he slowly eases his way out. “You need time to adjust. Mentally.”

“But I—”

“I’m not angry,” Sinn'ous reassures. “Or surprised. We have time. I’m aware of who I am and how others view me.”

“I don’t see you that way,” Izz protests. He’s still relieved when he no longer has to battle with the stretching burn between his legs. Even as he sort of misses it, his hole squeezing around nothing but air.

He feels empty now . . .

Sin hums in answer. Which could mean anything from ‘I believe you’ to ‘you’re an idiot’ to ‘are you lying to me or yourself ’.

He’s not sure. He can’t distinguish his thoughts, they are too muddled. Too hard to read. He doesn’t know what to think. How to feel.

Izz and Sin lie down side by side. Sinn'ous tucking Izz into his chest, turning him into the little spoon. He doesn’t mind. Being held is comforting. He feels protected with Sin at his back. Safe.

It doesn’t mean he forgets about his erection. Or that the thing gives up on the idea of getting off and goes away. No, it stays right there. Demanding and hard as stone. Aching to be touched, not allowing him to forget its presence.

It’s making him restless. No amount of snuggling into Sin is giving him any semblance of relief. He’s trying his best to keep it to himself, so Sin won’t know.

But what if I just . . .

He discreetly slides his hand down, biting his lip to hold back his moan at the first contact of his hand with his hot flesh—

Izz fails to hold back the choked hiss as Sin grazes teeth over his throat. The arms caging him in squeezing tighter. Holding him flush against a solid chest.

“Would you like me to help you with that,” Sin’s deep voice murmurs from behind.

Yes, please pleasepleaseplease . . .

“I . . . But what about you?” He feels bad, calling it quits and now wanting to cum while Sin is no doubt sporting blue balls.

He doesn’t want to be greedy or weak in front of Sin. But he is horny and he is hard. Needy. With Sin pressing up against his back, it’s turning him on.

He might be regretting stopping so early.

Sin repositions behind him, unfurling his arm, letting his fingers slide down Izz’s bare stomach. “Don’t worry about me. Let me take care of you.”

“Yes . . .” Izz whispers, removing his own hand from his aching member. Closing his eyes to the sensation of Sin’s hand closing over him. Stroking him.

It’s incredible. He’s never felt something so good in his whole life—or maybe it’s because it has been so long for him since he’s had someone else’s hand on him—or his own for that matter. He’s been too stressed. Since he marched into prison, he hasn’t been anywhere remotely private or safe to touch himself. Hasn’t had the opportunity to let off any steam.

And never like this. Never with someone so . . . dangerous . . .

The slow unhurried motion of Sin’s hand is driving him mad. His breathing rapidly increases, to the point where he is close to passing out. His vision blacking around the edges.

“Mm, so close . . .”

To passing out, or cumming? He can’t tell. Doesn’t care.

He’s already needy and worked up. He can’t hold back. His body is on the edge of the cliff. And he doesn’t want to delay his free fall into bliss.

Within minutes his back is arching against Sin. His release thundering out of him. Coating Sin’s sheets. His thighs twitching with the pulsing pleasure radiating through him.

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.