Cassidy lounged on his bunk, a book balanced lazily in one hand, the other tracing idle patterns along the page. The cell was quiet except for the occasional creak of pipes overhead. Then—metal clanged.
Davis’s knuckles rapped hard against the bars.Cassidy’s gaze lifted, slow and sharp. He set the book aside, got to his feet.Davis held up a plain-wrapped parcel.“This came for you. From Nathaniel.”Cassidy’s lips curved, all teeth and slow amusement. He took the package without a word, his fingers brushing the paper like it was something alive.Back on the bed, Cassidy peeled away the wrapping with patient precision. Inside: the compact black frame of a camera.The charger was there too. Nathaniel had delivered more than he asked.Cassidy turned the camera in his hands, thumb grazing the lens. He didnt know how revealing the footage was... But the fact Michaelis had fought so hard to bury it? That alone made his pulse hum.Curiosity… and maybeDays had passed since their first encounter, but Cassidy didn’t look like a man willing to let a power trip fade. He arrived at Michaelis’s office without warning, not even knocking.Michaelis looked up from his desk, expression turning instantly glacial."How the hell did you get past my officers?"Cassidy smiled like it was a stupid question. "Told your receptionist I had a meeting with the warden. You know, the sort of meeting you don’t put on the official schedule."Michaelis set his pen down with exaggerated care. "You’re testing my patience, Cassidy.""And yet you let me in." Cassidy stepped forward, shutting the door behind him. "So… what’s on today’s agenda? I was thinking—" he leaned against the wall, casual and predatory—"—a blowjob."Michaelis’s eyes narrowed. "You could have any inmate you want. Or a woman, if you still cling to the illusion you have standards.""Don’t want them." Cassidy’s voice was soft but sharp, cutting right through the a
Michaelis held back a scoff, lips curling into something halfway between a smirk and disgust,"You what?"Cassidy’s eyes glinted, his smile slow. "A blowjob."Michaelis leaned back in his chair, gaze slicing through Cassidy like he was some pest that had wandered in. "Do I look like I take orders from gutter trash? You think because you run your mouth like some street pimp, you’re worth my time? I’ve got paperwork here more important than you’ll ever be."Cassidy started pacing, slow, deliberate, like a predator deciding where to bite."Mhm… but that paperwork doesn’t moan your name, does it?" He tilted his head. "I never imagined a warden could be such a good bottom. Spread so well. Suck even better. Hell… you take cock like it was part of your job description."Michaelis’s jaw tightened, his pen snapping against the paper."Watch yourself."Cassidy’s grin widened, the words coming softer, darker. "You know, I still have that video… The one where you’re o
Cassidy lounged on his bunk, a book balanced lazily in one hand, the other tracing idle patterns along the page. The cell was quiet except for the occasional creak of pipes overhead. Then—metal clanged.Davis’s knuckles rapped hard against the bars.Cassidy’s gaze lifted, slow and sharp. He set the book aside, got to his feet.Davis held up a plain-wrapped parcel.“This came for you. From Nathaniel.”Cassidy’s lips curved, all teeth and slow amusement. He took the package without a word, his fingers brushing the paper like it was something alive. Back on the bed, Cassidy peeled away the wrapping with patient precision. Inside: the compact black frame of a camera. The charger was there too. Nathaniel had delivered more than he asked.Cassidy turned the camera in his hands, thumb grazing the lens. He didnt know how revealing the footage was... But the fact Michaelis had fought so hard to bury it? That alone made his pulse hum.Curiosity… and maybe
Clark left the warden’s office without another word, the faint click of the door neat and final.Back in the main hall, the background noise of shuffling feet, clinking keys, and muted conversations wrapped around him. He crossed to the general reception desk, where a uniformed clerk looked up with the kind of practiced disinterest found only in long-term civil servants.“Clark Brown,” he said, offering a brief flash of his ID as he rested it lightly on the counter. “Legal counsel for Cassidy Hills. I’m here to see my client.”The clerk’s expression shifted just enough to acknowledge the weight of the title. She typed something into the terminal, eyes flicking to the screen. “One moment.”After a short pause, she nodded toward the side door. “Officer Miller will take you through.”A tall corrections officer appeared from the corridor, keys jangling at his belt. “Mr. Brown, this way.”Clark followed, his stride even, hands resting lightly on the handles of his
Cassidy sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor like he could burn a hole through it. The cell reeked faintly of bleach and stale air.The metallic rattle of the door broke the stillness. “You’ve got a visit,” the guard said, voice flat.Cassidy rose without a word, smoothing his shirt as if every wrinkle mattered. His steps down the corridor were unhurried, deliberate — the walk of someone who owned more than the space he stood in.In the visiting room, Nathaniel was waiting.“Nate.”“Sir.”They clasped hands across the table — Nathaniel’s grip strong, Cassidy’s tighter.Cassidy leaned back in his chair, studying him with that flat, unreadable stare. “How are you… after everything?”“I’m good.”Cassidy’s gaze didn’t blink. “You didn’t come see me.”Nathaniel shifted, the muscles in his jaw working. “Clark told me not to. Said the first days weren’t smart.”Cassidy’s lips curved, but there was no warmth in
Masahiro slid the door shut behind him. The apartment was still, the kind of stillness that made sound carry.A soft thump broke it — Clyde padding into view, tail high. The cat gave a chirp and circled Masahiro’s legs.Masahiro crouched, running a hand along the sleek fur, feeling the low purr through his palm. For a moment, the warmth in that simple contact almost erased the heaviness hanging from last night. Almost.When he straightened, movement caught his eye.Matthew crossed the living room, heading toward the kitchen. His hair was damp, sticking to his temples, water tracing down his neck. Barefoot. Shirtless. Loose black pants slung low. Blue eyes flicked to Masahiro, held for less than a heartbeat, then slid away. He pulled the freezer open, letting the cold spill into the air.“Good night,” Masahiro said.The only reply was the quiet glug of water leaving a bottle. Matthew drank, gaze fixed on the far wall as if Masahiro weren’t even in the room.A sigh slipped out before M