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He had been there since long before you began your job as a prison guard. 16, you have heard. Dangerous, a cold-hearted murderer, they cried. The Butcher, as he was so crudely named, was a notorious shadow that haunted the cold cells.
You had gone in prepared, hand on your metaphorical gavel with no intent for mercy. There was no need for it. A man so monstrous should be handled accordingly; like a caged beast.
All your thoughts were shot clear from your head when you peered through the glass of the metal door to his cell.
Never had your eyes gazed upon a man so beautiful.
He was tall; tanned skin and long hair, accompanying the deepest carob eyes that seemed to glare right through you. Underneath the unwelcoming expression he wore, he seemed almost tired.
It was a visage that burned into your mind and left you restless. You ached to see him again. Daily you'd find excuses to go: delivering his rations, leading him off to the shower rooms, even going as far as to call in fake fights in that Wing to get to him first.
Simon, as you learned his name was, seemed to grow just as dependent on your company. You never missed the way his gaze changed when he looked at you; warm and alive. His hands trembled slightly at his sides when you wandered close. Both of you clung to each other as though your lives depended on it.
Perhaps it was unethical, but you didn't linger on the thought. There was no one that could love you the way he did. Not one ounce of reverence matched the overflowing stream of it Simon carried in each word and touch.
He was not a bad man, at least not as bad as they claimed.
The prison was empty, aside from the prisoners and the few remaining guards scattered about. The late nights always brought about scarce amounts of other people. You were grateful for the lack of supervision.
Your boots hit the metal hard as you rushed down the cold corridors, hands fumbling with the keys on the ring that hung loosely on your belt loop. Grabbing the familiar key to Simon's cell, you stuttered to a halt in front of the door.
You didn't even need to peer through the window to know he was already looking. He was never subtle about it, piercing anyone who came too close. You slid the key into the rusting lock, listening for the quiet click of its opening before replacing your key back to its home and all but throwing the cell door open.
The words in your throat had no time to form, immediately being crushed by the feeling of your waist and ribs being squeezed tight; soft skin molding against muscle and head pressed hard against his collarbone.
He smelled deeply of sweat and iron, the sweater the prison provided torn and hanging limply off his frame; an intoxicating amalgam that you worked to burn into every one of your senses. The rough pads of his fingers worked against your lower back, grounding you back to reality as you attempted to slip an arm free.
“Simon… let me close the door before both of us get caught.”
Simon's small huff of annoyance ghosted across your scalp, reluctantly releasing you and allowing you to close the cell's door. The window in it did little for privacy, but the simulation of it was comforting enough. His arms returned to your body, stepping back with you and pulling you away from the doorway and into the cramped cell.
“I missed you.” He breathed, squeezing you impossibly tighter; a half-hearted attempt to merge your form to his. “You weren’t here as much today.”
“They had me running errands. I didn’t have as much free time as I normally do.” You explained softly, reaching a hand to the messy strands of hair that pooled down his face and combing through them. “We had to send another person down.”
Simon sighed, still keeping his hold on you as though you’d slip away if he let go. You had only briefly told him about sending the other convicts down for resources. The words of him going never left your mouth, sealed tight behind closed lips. To be honest, you were afraid their utterance would make them come true.
“I’m here now though, aren’t I?” You coo, still preening the taller convict. Simon only nodded in response. His white-knuckled grip on you loosened, letting you step back as his hands fell limply at his sides.
You let go of his hair, watching the way his brows furrowed with disappointment at the now full loss of contact. A leaden silence closed in on the cramped space, drowning the two of you under its waves. Clearing your throat, you reached down to gently take his hands, examining the calloused skin of his palms and fingertips and the faint red marks that encircled his wrists.
“Too rough with the handcuffs again?” You mutter, frowning as your finger hits the discolored flesh with a small grunt from the man before you.
“Always are. I feel like they make them too tight on purpose. Can’t risk me getting out.” Simon bleakly replies, watching your fingers play with his hands with a silent constancy.
You took a mental note to scold the other guards later. It was biased, you knew that much. You had never missed the satisfaction that burned in their glares when his name left their mouths; taunting and inhumane. There was an unspoken joy in watching The ‘Butcher’ “get what he deserved.” A flame of anger sparked in your chest, simply returning your focus to his hands.
“I’ll ask them to loosen the cuffs next time. I should be more present tomorrow, anyways. Most of the others are keeping track of the lower-ranked inmates.” The words you spoke earned another small nod.
“I hope you are.” Simon said feebly. “I miss you when you’re not around. It’s lonely.”
“I know. I miss you too Simon.”
You wrapped an arm loosely around his shoulder, allowing him to scoop you back into his hold once more. His face buried into your neck, facial hair scratching along the junction of your shoulder and earning a small, tickled huff from you. His hands cradled your hips, thumbs digging into the bone and massaging them ever so slightly.
The feeling of his lips briefly against your flesh coaxed a quiet gasp from you, instinctually leaning your head back to give him room to mark. Flowers of purple and red bloomed where he planted his mouth, a garden of adulation that was sure to show for days after. Each kiss trailed higher, coming to a rest against the corner of your mouth.
You turned your head to capture his kiss, hands tangling back into his hair to deepen it. Simon gave a low grunt, tongue gently prying past your lips to lap desperately inside your mouth. Another airy whine tore from your throat, tugging at the roots on his scalp and pulling a louder groan from him. His spit sweet against your tongue left you panting, pressing your hips against his own with thinly veiled perversion.
His need for you was clear and everpresent, pressed against your thigh as he tried to grasp at what little friction he could. You were merciful, one raised leg between his thighs to give him what he so desperately sought after; a string of breathy whines and gruff words following your actions.
“Please… let me-” A groan cut off his words before they came from his mouth. “Let me taste you.”
The words knocked the air from your lungs for a moment, slowly moving to stand on both feet to process them (much to the dismay of Simon in front of you). You had played around before, keeping the kisses and touches brief from the rest of the guards, but you had never truly had the time to indulge yourselves. The thought had taken root into your mind ages ago, and now that you had it in your clutch you would be a fool to turn it down.
“... Okay. Yeah, you can do that. Do what you wish.” Your words were faint, hands loosening their hold of his head.
Simon carefully sank to his knees, eyes glued to your face as you worked to undo your belt. Your fingers struggled momentarily with the leather strap, discarding it after a few frustratingly long seconds and proceeding on to your zipper. He remained patient, thumbs once again lovingly massaging your hipbones before helping you slip from the rough fabric.
You kicked it aside, allowing Simon to hook his fingers into the band of your undergarments. He hesitated, causing a brow of yours to raise as you waited for his next move. The convict swallowed roughly, playing with the elastic band as he finally strung his words together; meek and unsure.
“... Sometimes I worry that.. None of this is real. That you aren’t real.” He began, glancing down at the floor. “That this is all a dream and it’ll be taken from me the second I wake up.”
You remained silent for a moment, reaching to tangle your hand in his hair and tilt his head back to peer up at you. You kept your gaze gentle; steady and certain as you looked him in the eyes.
“Then let every cry of your name you pull from me be a reminder to you that I am.”
The air quickly left Simon’s lungs, his fingers working to tug your underwear down with newfound fervency. His chapped lips met the skin of your abdomen, leaving sloppy, open mouthed kisses down your heated skin. He took a moment to gasp in a breath, nose buried in your netherhair before delving his tongue to taste between your legs.
Stars pricked the corners of your vision as you closed your eyes, quiet curses and breathy moans waterfalled from your lips and buried themselves deep into the cell walls. Every lash of his tongue and deep, craving groans that were muffled by your form against his mouth led you ever so closer to the edge. He devoured you like a man starved, letting each noise you made spur him on.
“Oh, Simon… you’re so good to me, you’re so sweet…” You coo between whimpers, relishing in the loud, choked moan that slipped past his lips. He loved the praise, you discovered., especially when it was from you.
Your skin burned hot, veins coursing with carnality as you instinctively rocked your hips forward into his mouth; much to his delight. Simon rubbed his hands over your waist, swallowing around you and briefly breaking to kiss along the inner skin of your thighs before delving back for another taste.
You tapped the crown of his head, a faint signal to him that you were close. You were dragged quickly, one foot off the ledge that you so desperately ran to. Simon moved a hand lower, teasing a rough finger against your opening and finally letting you step off the tier.
You were immediately plunged deep, wave after wave drowning you and ecstasy engulfing your senses as you came against his tongue, lungs burning between gasps of air and loud, shameless cries of his name that were sure to be heard if anyone were around. Your vision grew hazed, head thrown back and hand keeping the convict pressed tight against you as you let your high run through your body. Simon swallowed, lapping up what he could of you as you finally released him from your hold.
“... You taste so fucking sweet. Fuck, you’re delicious..” He praised, finally peering up at you and licking his still soaked lips. Bits of your release clung against his facial hair, which he quickly wiped up with the back of his hand.
You managed to catch your breath, finally resurfacing and stepping to shore and simply nodding in response to his words. Your hands glided through his hair in a gentle pet, earning a pathetic sort of whine from the back of the man’s throat. You ushered him to stand. Which he quickly complied, maneuvering him to sit against his cot with a soft, metallic creak of its old, rusted springs.
“Thank you, Si. You make me feel so much…. Let me return the favor. Let me love on you, too.”
You punctuated your words by falling into the same position he was previously in, Simon immediately spreading his legs to accommodate you. He nodded, a silent signal of consent as you made quick work of unbuttoning his pants. You pulled them down enough to get to his boxers, tugging down the elastic band to free him from his restraints.
He was beautiful. Everything about him was perfect, from length and curve to the sweetly blushed tip that matched the pink hue of his lips. You were convinced he was crafted just for you, a body made to be touched and worshiped, You reached a hand forward to take him in your hold, listening to the faint hiss he let out at your skin against his; aching against your palm.
Leaning down, you let spit accumulate against your tongue, letting it fall against his dick before giving him a few slow, experimental strokes. Simon immediately tossed his head back, letting it hit the wall with a soft thump. His eyes fluttered closed, breath rapidly picking up as you gave him mercy and took him into your mouth and reveled in the taste of his sweat salted skin.
You inhaled sharply through your nose, gathering as much of him as you could and using your hand to caress what you couldn’t quite fit yet. Your tongue worked long, languid strokes along the underside of his shaft, the faint vibrations of each of your pleased hums sending the man above you into a fit of curses and cries. He reached down, brushing some of the hair from your face and gathering it behind your head.
You ceased your affectionate pets, taking him fully and letting the bridge of your nose bury in the black curls along his abdomen and the base of his dick, inhaling his scent before pulling back to lap at him once more. His grip tightened, shifting to press himself further into your mouth and briefly choking you.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… You take me so well, just breathe for me… Oh god, keep going.” Simon fawned, words honeyed and low as he continued his rhythmic bucking. You could have sworn you saw tears welling in the corner of his eyes.
You whined around him, placing both hands on his legs to keep yourself grounded as he continued his pace. He spewed praises to you between breaths, muscles tensing as he pushed himself closer to his own orgasm. Strands of his dark hair stuck to his sweat-drenched forehead, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut in bliss. He was captivating. You kept your stare on him, working to burn each expression he made deep into your memory.
Simon opened his eyes, catching your gaze and finally falling from the edge himself with a loud keen. The sapidity of his release painted your tongue as you drank it up, coaxing a faint, pleased hum from you as you pulled back to clean him up. Simon simply let you go, taking a moment to let the air return to his lungs with deep, sharp inhales.
“You’re so good to me, [...]. What could someone like me have possibly done to deserve you?” He murmured, trembling hands coming to hold the sides of your face and presenting loving strokes to your cheekbones.
“You’ve done so much, Simon. You deserve so much more than just me.” Your words were sure, coated thick in adulation as you reached up to place your fingers over the backs of his hands.
He simply remained quiet, gaze flitting across your face before he planted a chaste kiss to your forehead; the feeling lingering for a few moments as he stepped back. You opened your mouth, the question that you formed dying against the tip of your tongue as he tugged you down with him; body resting against his mattress with you ever so lovingly positioned atop him. His hair fell against his pillow in waves, black strikingly vibrant against the cream colored sheets that waved and curled under his weight.
Simon beheld your form, almost unblinking as he shamelessly let his line of sight trail over every inch of skin you were gracious enough to show him. You make slow work of your top, slipping it over your head and discarding it to the floor. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, hands steadying you as you leaned down to be closer to him.
His lips immediately took purchase of your chest, planting more colored buds against the skin as he let his touch wander along your waist and lower back. The fabric of his sweater was rough against your fingertips as you slid it up his torso, making the convict unlatch from you and help you toss it aside.
The flesh of his torso was scarred, painted in bruises and old wounds that never properly healed. You pet along his chest and stomach, feeling the muscle jerk and tense with each ghost of your fingers. Simon simply remained silent, but the brief furrow of his brows told more than words could.
“... You’re beautiful,” You murmured. “Scars and all. You’re not what they made you to be.”
Simon gave a small, shaky exhale; eyes returning to your face to check for any signs of dishonesty. How could someone truly love a man with blood stains on his hands? His breath faltered. He trusted you meant every word you said.
“Hey, let me…” He hoarsely called out, tugging you to sit on your knees above his chest.“Shit, we uhm…we don't have- I'm sorry. Please, tell me if I hurt you.”
You simply moved a bit to get comfortable, one hand against the wall and the other against his chest.
“You couldn't hurt me if you tried to, Simon.” You uttered, trying to gently coax the man to go about whatever he had planned.
Simon nodded, gaze turning down between your hips before snaking his trembling hand to his mouth, coating his fingers in spit before sliding them back between your legs. He teased a digit against your opening, gently pushing into you up to his knuckle.
A moan tears from your throat, forehead resting against the cold cell wall as you adjust to the new sensation. He immediately pauses, staring at you with widened eyes. You meet his gaze, giving a reassuring smile.
“You’re okay, I'm okay… you're such a sweetheart, you touch me so nice.” Your words were quick and quiet, trying not to come off as needy.
He nods, pulling almost all the way away before pushing back in, curling his finger against the spot that stole the breath from your lungs. He kept his pace slow and steady, loving strokes against your inner walls dragging out long whines from the back of your throat.
He slid another finger in after a moment, a strangled gasp catching in your throat. A quiet, illegible murmur tumbled past his lips, driving his digits quicker between each whispered word. Your vision burned once more, feeling yourself beginning to climb back up to that familiar ledge.
“Simon- please… not yet, want you.” You gasp, his motions ceasing before he fully pulls his fingers out from you.
He didn't say anything, simply staring for a moment and keeping you in his hold as you slid down to his lap; grasping him in hand. You gave him a few more loving strokes before letting yourself slowly sit down.
You could have cried. He fit perfectly, hitting every space you needed him the most. Simon gave a loud groan, tilting his head back against the pillows and gripping your hips as he squeezed his eyes shut. You kept your stare on him, and for once in all the times you had met, you saw he was truly smiling.
“You have no idea how long I've been wanting this… It haunted me. I dreamed of having you like this.” He babbled, chest heaving with each breath. “I finally have you, you're finally all mine.”
“You've always had me, Si. You always will.” You responded, taking a few more moments before experimentally rocking your hips against his own.
Simon hissed softly, taking initiative to grasp you tighter. He raised you up almost fully off of him before gently slamming you back down, a few obscene noises leaving the both of you. The cramped space quickly became filled with the sound of skin meeting and pleased wails, echoing off the metal walls and slipping through their cracks.
You felt the same familiar start to bloom in your abdomen, reaching both arms around his shoulders. He seemed to be quickly reaching his own end as well, pace growing desperate and unrhythmic. Simon's thumb dug into your hip bone, grinding into you to hit deeper.
“Simon-”
“I know.” He cut you off, giving a shaky moan between his words. “I am too. Just cum for me, you can do it… just let go…”
His words and the relentless pace he set quickly pushed you off the edge, nails digging into his shoulders as your vision burned white.
You had never been religious by any means, but you were sure this was the closest to heaven you would ever be. His name spilled from your lips like a prayer, a hymn that was accompanied by his sharp cry as he finally fell alongside you.
It took a moment for your senses to return to you, taking large gulps of air into your weary lungs as you settled against him. Simon simply groaned, softly rubbing your thighs and keeping you flat against him. Your legs trembled when you finally pulled away, the mess of his orgasm dripping down against your heated skin.
“... Thank you.” Simon called out, sitting upright again as you began your search for something to clean yourselves up with.
“For what?” You ask, getting your hands on a cloth from your pants pocket and using it to wipe yourself off.
“For this. For… being so nice to me. Loving me like this…” He began, stopping only briefly as the rag you had made contact with his still sensitive dick. “I haven't been touched like this in… gods, ever.”
He chuckled softly to punctuate his words, painting a smile onto your face as you finished cleaning him up. He had no need to thank you, you would choose to do this every time. You loved him like no other.
“Of course. I love you, Simon. You should know that.”
You felt his breathing stop for a moment, glancing up to see those carob colored eyes glossy with tears. He simply nodded, reaching to softly per your hair from where you were kneeled.
“... Yeah. Yeah, I love you too.” Simon exhaled, voice trembling slightly.
You made quick work of redressing yourselves (with Simon so lovingly abandoning his own clothing momentarily to help you get dressed), checking your watch and sighing.
“Shit. It's late, I have to go. I need to be back here by morning for my shift.” You curse, quickly slipping your boots back on as Simon finishes clothing himself.
“Wait- wait… You're just… Gonna leave?” He began, struggling to hide the disappointment in his tone. “I mean… of course. Yeah, you… I didn't want to get you in trouble. Uhm… I'll see you tomorrow then…
Thank you for this.”
You frowned. He was never too good at hiding how he felt, you had always noticed. He simply crossed his arms against his chest, tilting his head to the floor in hopes to hide his still tear-flooded eyes from you.
“... Come here Simon.” You coo, kicking your boots back off and ushering him back against his cot.
He immediately complied, falling back down against the hard mattress as you wrapped yourself around his broad frame. Simon’s hands purchased your waist, face once again back into your neck as he exhaled in relief.
The risk of being caught burned in your veins, being slowly overpowered by your desire to remain resting. You weren't too sure when your next encounter like this would be, if one at all. Closing your eyes, you listened to his breathing and felt the steady rise and fall of his chest; letting yourself soak up your final moments before finally giving in to sleep.
You could risk being found tomorrow. And you always would.