“Higher-ups are meeting again tonight,” he said. “Until then, your contact is provisional.”
I nodded once. “Understood.”
He studied me for another second, then shook his head. “Christ, Jace. You really don’t see how dangerous this is, do you?”
I did.
Just not in the way he meant.
“I see exactly how dangerous it is,” I replied.
Patel turned and walked down the hall, footsteps fading.
I stayed where I was.
Through the glass, Elior shifted in his sleep, a faint, restless sound leaving his throat.
My hand lifted before I thought better of it, resting against the window.
Mine, I thought calmly.
I stood there for a while, palm flat against the cool glass, feeling the faint vibration of the hospital’s ever-present hum through it.
Elior’s eyelids fluttered, his lips parting in a soft, needy whimper that twisted something deep in my gut. He was searching for me, even doped up on whatever cocktail they were pumping into his veins.
Good boy. That’s right. Feel me even when I’m not there.
Patel’s warning echoed in my head, but it was just noise. Ethics committee? Internal Affairs? They could poke and prod all they wanted. They didn’t understand.
Elior wouldn’t be leaving here with anyone but me.
Even if he’d been a bit resistant lately.
My gaze dropped to the IV line snaking into his arm, the steady drip of meds keeping him pliant and docile. If it weren’t for those damn cameras that I knew were watching, I’d push through that door right now. I’d lock it behind me, yank the curtains shut, and climb onto that bed. Press my body over his until he woke up gasping under me.
I’d start slow, just to tease him out of that haze. Trail my fingers down his neck, over the pulse jumping there, then lower, shoving up that thin hospital gown. Expose his pretty pale skin to the air, watch his little pink cock twitch and harden as I wrap my hand around it, my thumb circling the head until precum slicks my palm. He’d arch into it, moaning my name—Daddy—his hips bucking like he couldn’t help himself.
But I wouldn’t let him come yet. No, I’d pin his wrists above his head with one hand, the other sliding between his thighs. Spread him open, fingers probing that tight little hole, pushing in dry at first to make him whine and squirm. Then I’d lube up and fuck him open with two fingers, then three, scissoring them until he was loose and begging, tears streaking down his cheeks.
I’d flip him onto his stomach, ass up, face buried in the pillow. Pull his hips back and slam my cock inside him in one thrust, burying in deep where he couldn’t escape me. Pound into him hard, relentlessly, each snap of my hips marking him as mine. Feel his walls clench around me, milking my shaft as I growlpromises for the future in his ear.
Ourfuture.
I’d make him come like that, untouched, spilling onto the sheets while I filled him up, hot cum flooding his ass until it leaked out around me. Then I’d hold him close after, petting his hair, whispering how good he was, how he’d never leave me—because he wouldn’t.
Not ever.
The thought had my cock straining against my pants, throbbing with the need to do it now. But the cameras… fuck. I glanced up, spotting the lens staring back. Not yet. Soon, though. I’d get him out of here, away from prying eyes, and then I’d be able to do whatever I wanted with my precious possession.
Elior stirred again, his hand twitching toward the empty space beside him. I pressed my palm harder against the glass, willing him to feel it.
“I’m here, baby,” I murmured. “I’ll get you out of here.”
I just needed to get him to trust me enough first.
* * *
The next week was rough, to say the least—I was being kept away from Elior for all but twenty minutes a day, dependent on whether or not he agreed to see me. And during that small time allotment, I was always being monitored—no closed doors, no whispers, no lingering hands. Every interaction between us was carefully logged, then dissected.
