Finding out more about block C turned out to be extremely difficult. No matter who he asked, he was fob off with wild rumours or lies. He couldn't ask James. He wouldn't tell him anything, David guessed.
The days were suddenly quieter and therefore less fast. David used to visit Tucker at work every now and then without really doing anything. They talked about this and that. How Tucker's life used to be, that he was happy to be able to get out sometime, although he still had to sit for almost 2 years. The fixed daily routine felt good. Calm. Especially now that nobody died. Nobody threatened him. Nobody wanted to fuck him.
Except maybe James, David guessed after a while. They continued to meet in the showers every night. The conversations became fewer, the touches more. James kissed him again and again, but his cracked lip continued to hurt. So they just held each other and stroked their backs. David was content with it. It was far too long ago that someone had given him love in the form of touching and caressing. Sad, actually, considering that David had to go to jail first to feel the affection he had been missing for so many years. There was no sexual mood. Until James skilfully directed the subject to it.
"What was your ex-wife like?" James asked out of the blue, massaging David's hair with shampoo. They were sitting on the hard tiles, but the warm water felt good.
"Annoying," grumbled David, unwilling to talk about her.
"How long have you been married?"
David had to think for a moment. "Ten years."
"That's a long time," said James, sitting between David's legs. His penis touched David's stomach, but it wasn't stiff. "Why did you kill her?"
"She cheated on me," David said, closing his eyes so no shampoo would run into them. James had a pleasant way of touching him. But the subject bothered him uncomfortably.
"That was the reason you killed her?"
"... asks me the one who probably committed a lot more murders for much worse reasons."
He heard James giggle. "Touché."
The reaction troubled David somewhat. How many murders were on his head?
James’ gentle touches moved from his head over David’s neck, over his shoulders, to his back, arms and chest. Finally, he felt James hug him tightly and press towards him. "Did you like it?"
David kept his eyes closed as the shampoo ran down his face. "What exactly?"
"The killing."
He had to think for a moment what to tell. Adaptation was still the motto. But no clear yes came from his lips. He hadn't enjoyed it. It was just a necessity. "Hard to say."
"Because of your illness?"
"Yes," he said shortly, running his hands over James’ hips to his waist. Even with his eyes closed, David could sense that James was a strong man. The skin was soft, but there were firm muscles underneath.
"I think you liked it," James said softly, running the tip of his nose over David's cheek. "Just as I think you really like this too."
With spread legs, James sat on David's lap. The previously flaccid penis was slowly becoming stiff. He felt the glans move against his stomach.
David could neither confirm nor deny the statement. Instead, he washed the shampoo off his face with one hand. James hung on him like a monkey and caressed the back of his neck with the tip of his nose.
David let out a sigh. “You have a way of making people very docile. I'm not actually gay.”
James giggled again. He leaned back a little and looked deep into David's eyes. “Shall I tell you a little secret? I think I've got too much of what you're missing. Empathy is my strength. And if I want to, I can easily manipulate people. Basically, that’s what I often do. It helps me survive here.”
His grin, which sat so mischievously on his pretty face, made David press his lips together. "So are you manipulating me too?"
“In my opinion, being in such an environment in which we are right now, you cannot really avoid manipulating each other. But I try to be as neutral as possible, when it comes to you.”
"I don't believe a word you said," David huffed, raising both eyebrows. The shampoo flowed along his temples again.
James grinned and kissed David intensely on the lips. He seemed to ignore the excruciating pain in the laceration. Instead, he stuck his tongue into David's mouth and encouraged him to participate. Again, David wasn't sure what to do and if what he was doing was a wise decision. James was influential. He had something to do with Candy. This connection was dangerous. And David was sure that James knew more than he admitted. But meeting him was still the highlight of his day and nothing has been done against his will. That strengthened kind of the trust in this relationship. James seemed to give David some freedom to choose what to do and what not to do. After a week of meeting for almost an hour each day and having already committed murder, a French kiss was definitely okay.
David grabbed James’ hips again and hugged him tightly. Their lathered bodies felt good against each other. The kiss too. Sometimes David could feel the threads in James’ mouth with his tongue, which made him flinch. But none of them separated from the other.
Eventually David was getting stiff from rubbing.
"Should I do something about it?" James breathed into his mouth, already reaching for David's tight member.
"You don't have to do that," he whispered back, pushing James slightly away. He knew that he owed something similar to James afterwards. And he didn't know if he was capable of doing so.
"What if I want to?" James’ smile widened. "You are huge. I've always wanted a big cock. You'd be surprised how small some are, even though their egos say otherwise.”
David sighed firmly as James’ grip tightened. Slow up and down movements did not make it easier to resist his offer.
"I don't know ..." And David didn't know what he didn't know. Not having an orgasm in over a week had been borderline for him. This tiny bit of physical closeness already seemed to knock him out.
James kissed him on the lips again. Hungry and willing, but David couldn't warm up to the idea.
"Then just by hand, okay?" James grumbled against his lips. "Please."
Oh, a please. David hadn't heard that in a long time. At least not a sincere one.
"Okay," was all he said before gripping James's dick. It wasn't as different as expected. Just a little more uncoordinated and less efficient than with yourself.
But James’ sighs of satisfaction caused David's neck hair to rise. He clung to David's broad shoulders and did his best to satisfy him as well. His slight riding movements on David's lap really made him very horny. James probably made it on purpose to get David around next time.
"Oh, David," James breathed erotically into his ear as he came into David's hand faster than expected. His fingernails pierced into the back of his neck.
It took James a moment to get together and continue to massage David's cock. His head was placed on David's shoulder. "I want you to fuck me next time, David ..." he whispered dazedly, seeming to have to concentrate immensely on what he was doing.
"We’ll see," David grumbled, reaching for James’ hand that was on his dick to speed things up. Together they rubbed until David felt his climax. He came generously in both his and James’s hands.
Both stayed in their hug for a few more minutes until David broke away. The water washed off the sperm faster than expected. "We should go back."
James hardly said anything else and looked at the ground, almost depressed. When David asked him what was going on, they were already in the hallway, so James just smiled and said goodbye.
For the first time David stopped and watched his friend walk towards cell block C. James just stood in front of the closed door for a few moments until it opened from the other side. A lean man, very tall with glasses, opened it and let him pass. When he saw David, his eyes widened for a moment, but the door closed faster than he could have reacted. Nevertheless, David at least knew who Hank was.
The next morning felt strange. David had to think of James all day. How he lay in his arms, how he rode him theoretically and groaned his name. Considering that David wasn't actually gay, the event stuck positively in his head.
"Hey," Tucker said suddenly, pulling him out of his erotic thoughts. They had made themselves comfortable in the courtyard after breakfast. It was Sunday and actually too cold for David's taste to sit outside, but Tucker wanted to enjoy the fresh air and the day off, so David accompanied him. Together they sat on a bench, thickly wrapped up in winter jackets and blankets. Tucker smoked one cigarette after the other as David wondered if he should start smoking too. Simply because apparently everyone here did it. And the command to adjust was still deep in his bones. It would make things easier.
"Is everything okay?" Tucker asked after David didn't answer. “You seem really distant since the incident. I'm worried."
"That's cute," David said, typically monotonously, and pulled up the corner of his mouth. "I’m fine."
"I know you're more of a quiet guy, but sometimes you have to talk about what happened to you, you know?"
It was clear that Tucker was not talking about the murders, but about the alleged rape, which had never actually happened.
"Would you like me to talk to you about it?" David asked, knowing that his cellmate was very curious.
"No, no," Tucker dodged, flicking his cigarette away. That earned him a nasty look from a guard. “There is psychological counselling. You know? Like professional. Heard you can just go there.”
David thought about it for a moment. Was it frowned upon to go there? Would you be cut open right after the visit? Was there another catch? Or why did nobody go to this consultation when basically half of the inmates really needed a psychological interview?
"You can just go there?" David repeated bemused.
“Well, you have to register beforehand. You can do that in the infirmary. Then you get an appointment and go. That's all. Would be an idea.” Tucker lit another cigarette. “They also have to keep stuff confidential. They are not allowed to say anything to anyone. Neither the guards nor the director.”
That sounded like a big lie to David, because the whole prison didn't look that professional, but it might be worth a try. He could possibly learn more about cell block C. The Mafiosi who were up to mischief here. Or what happened to the undercover cop.
He thanked his friend and asked for a cigarette. The first hit was terrible. It scratched and hurt. But after smoking the whole thing, he had to admit it was soothing. So on the way back he got his own package.
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