Moving without a word, his ears track his boy trailing after him.
Izz practically skips down the corridor. Every bit the trusting fawn he arrived at Sandstone Correctional as.
“Care to share what your little stunt was all about,” Sinn'ous grips Izz’s elbow to still the jumping movements. Corralling Izz to his side to divert his boy from colliding with a wall. A giant inanimate object Izz had clearly missed seeing.
He bites back the sigh threatening to explode out his chest.
“They think I’m gullible and being manipulated by you into sexual acts I don’t want to do.” Izz’s brows crease into a confused frown, staring hard at Sinn'ous’s hand as if he doesn’t know when it got there.
They’re correct, in a way, the sex hadn’t been part of the plan.
The plan had been to kill you. But now, I don’t want you dead, I want you in my hands begging me to hurt you.
“You seemed pretty fond of what I was doing to you,” Sinn'ous spins the narrative back into his control. A neatly worded statement that places the answers into his boy’s head. That it was Izz’s idea. That he is in control. All fake of course. But that’s the whole point.
A submissive who thinks it’s his idea. Not the carefully calibrated influence of an outside force.
Releasing Izz’s arm, Sinn'ous moves to put space between them, but Izz steps in close, practically using him as a crutch to walk.
Those pain pills must be working.
“Oh, I am,” Izz sticks his hand into Sinn'ous’s pocket, and he gives his boy a look that he knows has cracks everywhere. But he can’t help the puzzled amusement the action brought out of him. “And I want to do them again. The guys were being dicks about it, that’s all. And no, you can’t kill them.”
At that, Sinn'ous genuinely chuckles, “wasn’t planning on it.” He hadn’t been. But he is thinking about it now.
“Oh, please,” Izz draws out the last word, voice dripping with played up sarcasm. “As if you wouldn’t spontaneously kill someone.” He rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath, “making out like you need a plan.”
His boy stumbles, tripping on nothing, and glaring at his feet.
Yes, those pills are definitely working. Perhaps a little too well.
“I think those drugs you took are working,” he advises softly, redirecting Izz from walking right past the cafeteria doors.
“What? Why? What makes you say that?” Izz lists to the side while he’s spewing his denial.
Raising his brow at the obvious signs to his drawn conclusion, he gives his boy a light shove at the cafeteria doors. Encouraging him to continue without using words.
Izz does, but not before waving a hand in Sinn'ous’s face, in a dismissive gesture. “Pfff. They are not. I’m completely normal.”
“Indeed,” Sinn'ous states flatly. Stepping into the cafeteria after his wobbling boy.
60
SINN'OUS
Their meal had been cut short, with Izz being called to visitation, but what they had shared had been more than Sinn'ous expected. He’d felt more than he expected. Almost . . . proud? Or perhaps something close to smug satisfaction in other men wanting what he has. Who he owns.
They had agreed to do it again. For a next meal. One where they wouldn’t be interrupted so soon.
Now he’s alone in his cell, waiting on Izz to return from visitation. Wondering what exactly he’s talking to his family about. If Izz has told them about him? And what exactly would he have said?
It matters not. They will soon know who he is, and that he is a stone in Izz’s life now. And absolutely nothing will shake him loose.
He’s casually seated on his bunk, propped up against the wall, when Izz enters the cell. And the look of adoration tells him instantly that the letter was shared.
He sent the letter in preparation to pave the way to Izz’s dependence on him once outside these walls. He won’t be a caged killer forever, very soon he will be free to hunt whomever he pleases. And Izz will be right there by his side. For better or worse, Izz will never leave.
It’s either he stays there of his own accord, or he stays in the basement until he no longer tries to leave.
