Watching the needle penetrating Izz has Sinn'ous’s raging hard on straining to be freed. He wants to be in that. Wants to be stuffed inside Izz while he watches the needle penetrate again and again. His cum mixed in ink, marking Izz good and deep.
Good and permanent.
Each lift of machine to ink cap and back allows for an inky swill of blood to surface, before it’s scrubbed away leaving the skin red and raw. He’s right at his breaking point. It’s taking everything in him not to kill Matvey and pounce on Izz. He needs no witnesses when he cuts the clothes from Izz and replaces them with his own body. Skin on skin. Moan for moan. The penetrations of his cock in that tight heat waiting for him. Him, and only him.
Fuck. It’s a gasped desperate sound even in his own head.
What he wouldn’t give to see Izz bending over of his own volition. Begging Sinn'ous to fuck him. To hurt him. To use his ass hard and deep. To cut his skin and make him bleed.
To bleed Izz while he fucks him . . . That is the dream.
No. Not dream. The future.
He’s so engrossed in his head that it’s as if he blinks and the tattoo is completed. The small laugh the boy lets out startles Sinn'ous back into the cell, washing down his sexual fantasies.
The boy sends him a smile in the way he seems to be fond of doing. And it has the effect of pressure in his chest, a tightening to his organs. A threat that they’ll be crushed. Whatever the feeling is, he stuffs it down and out of reach.
He misses the exchange between Matvey and Izz, but he does not miss the way the boy looks as his shirt pulls back on. He’d rather the boy be completely nude, but at the same time he’s not in the mood to share the sight of Izz. He wants to study every dip and curve before he allows others to see when he takes the boy.
They can look. But they can’t touch.
41
SINN'OUS
“It suits you, Beautiful.” And it does. The ink. The mark. The prospect of what it all means.
All mine.
Seated on Izz’s bunk. The sounds of the active prison Wing forgotten for the raging heartbeat he can hear in his ears and feel in his body. His skin is abuzz in a sensation rivalling that of an adrenaline hit.
“Thank you,” Izz shifts rocking the mattresses which dips him closer to Sinn'ous, body heat crashing into him.
I need to kiss him.
The thought is fleeting, new and welcome. The origin of it may be unknown, he has never wanted to kiss another, but it is not unwelcome.
“I like it—” Izz’s words roll off his back and he doesn’t let them stop him. In fact, he scarcely hears them over the drumming noise between his ears.
The kiss is sharp and brief. A peck more than anything else. A snap in his always controlled state. A crack that leeks and the result is breath taking. Robbing his long-term memory and turning everything into a short burst of the here and now.
Over in a second when his thin reserve of control snaps back in place, and he breaks away from the connection. Missing the smooth press of lips as soon as it’s gone.
The dazed, heated flush to Izz’s cheeks nearly has him folding and giving in.
He stamps the urge down.
“Forgive me. You’re perched there delectably, I couldn’t help myself.”
Izz’s eyes dart, wild and lust torn, pupils dilated and locked on Sinn'ous.
The lean in is instigated by the boy, and their mouths find each other in a danced tangle of delectable fulfilment. Hands dig into his hair, deepening the kiss, and it’s everything in him not to take the offered hunger and match it to his own. He could so easily throw Izz to the mattress, tug down his pants and shove his cock in.
And why should I resist?
The startledgasp is all Izz does when Sinn'ous flips them, shoving Izz down into the mattresses. Their chests flush, their lips locked in a deepening battle, Sinn'ous’s tongue delving in to explore. Tasting the sweet heat of Izz. Eating his soul through his mouth.
Satan, have mercy.
