“That’s sensible.”
“Maybe, but if I’d had someone to go home to, I might’ve been less reckless.”
“Reckless?”
“Stupid. Whatever.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It doesn’t matter what you meant. I know what I was. What I am. I don’t need you to tell me.”
Luis spoke, as always, without fire and accusation. Just bland self-deprecation that made Paolo’s blood boil for the wrong reasons.
He sat up too. In the murky light from the hallway, Luis seemed like an apparition. Paolo had to touch him to be sure he was there. His palm hit Luis’s chest and ghosted over the smooth skin he found there. The tattoos were old, shadows in the dark. Paolo wondered what they meant but didn’t ask. His fingers found the silver bar in Luis’s nipple. He brushed his thumb over it.
Luis shivered, and goosebumps broke out over his skin. “I like that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“What else do you like?”
“Lots of things. I think.”
“How long has it been?”
“Since what?”
Paolo replaced his thumb with his teeth, nipping gently, hands free to roam lower and unbutton Luis’s jeans. “Don’t be coy, mate. I’m asking if you fucked anyone in prison.”
“Why not just say that then?”
“Cos I’m being coy.”
“Different rules for you?”
“Nope. I’m just a twat.”
“You’re really not.”
“Are you going to answer the question?”
“I didn’t fuck anyone in prison, but...”
Paolo looked up. Luis was watching him, eyes heavy, cheeks flushed. “But what? Did you hook up with your cell mate?”
“One-eyed Joe? No. It wasn’t an inmate.”
“A guard? I thought that only happened on TV.”
Luis snorted. “It happens all the time. Guards get horny for bad boys. It’s cliched bullshit, but it worked for me back then.”
“Man or woman?”
“Man.”
“Did you love him?”
