Page 121 of Psychopath

Quinn reopened his eyes to find Zane watching him with concern. His participants had rubbed off on him, and that meant Zane had too. Seductive, confident Zane, who gazed at him, soaked in sweat and breathing hard from the heat. Shame had reared up in Quinn the first time he saw Zane. His attraction had been immediate, and obvious, and unprofessional, but in the back of the prison van, waiting to see what fate had in store for them, Quinn didn’t care about being professional anymore. Even if they survived, he wouldn’t be like this with Zane again.

They’d never be together alone again.

“It’s going to be okay,” Zane said softly. “We’ll get out of here.”

Quinn shifted, leaning forward, and brought his lips to Zane’s. It was a gentle kiss, sweet, but Zane cursed like it was dirty and surged forward with an open mouth.

Zane moaned into the kiss, cupping Quinn’s cheek, slipping his tongue over Quinn’s bottom lip to take his mouth. Quinn let him. He welcomed his tongue with his own and drew back to suck Zane’s lips.

“There was me trying to be good,” Zane breathed against Quinn’s cheek.

“I don’t need good right now.” Quinn nipped Zane’s bottom lip. “I just want to feel alive. I want to feel you. I need to. Even if it can only be once.”

Zane tore his mouth away, glancing at the top of Quinn’s trousers. He undid them with a twist of his wrist, then yanked them down. Quinn didn’t want the confines of his clothes, not like both times in the cell; he wanted his skin, all of his skin against all of Zane’s and shoved down his trousers and boxers until he was bare.

“Fuck,” Zane said, flipping onto his back. He made short work of removing his boxers, kicking them off to join Quinn’s somewhere towards the front of the van, neither of them paying attention to where their clothes landed.

Quinn clambered over Zane, knocking his knees as he straddled Zane’s thighs. Zane sucked on his bottom lip as he stared at Quinn sat on top of him. His gaze jumped from Quinn’s blushing pink nipples to the thumping pulse at the side of Quinn’s throat.

Quinn stroked a hand over Zane’s damp chest hair, then followed the whirl around a nipple with his fingertip. Zane’s hips flexed in response, and he moaned when Quinn rolled the nipple between his thumb and finger, tugging just enough to make the nub redden.

“No pixels,” Zane whispered, smiling smugly.

Zane’s cock was long and thick, arching against his belly. It was the first time Quinn had seen it, and he ghosted his fingers along the gentle curve. He rubbed the wet head, then leaned down to blow against the tip. Zane’s thighs stiffened beneath him, and he sucked in a breath and held it. Quinn shuffled down and leaned forward to flick his tongue up Zane’s shaft before sucking on the head. He sucked until Zane dripped onto his tongue and pulled back at the insistent tug on his hair.

Slack-mouthed, Quinn looked down at Zane. His cock was the same red as his pinched nipple. Zane exhaled the breath he’d been holding, chuckling slightly as he drew his knees up and reached a hand down for Quinn’s aching cock.

Quinn groaned, leaning back against Zane’s thighs as he was slowly stroked from root to tip.

Zane worked his caged fist over Quinn’s cock, picking up speed. Quinn shook his head. Zane slowed his strokes down again.

“What is it?” he asked.

His voice sounded strained.

“If this is the last time we get…” Quinn wiped the sweat from his brow onto his shoulder. “Then I want you inside me. I want to feel you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good id—”

“Please, Zane.”

“God, when you say my name like that, I’ll do just about anything.” He met Quinn’s eyes. “We’ll have to be careful with you.”

Quinn’s heart ached in his chest.

“We’ll have to take our time getting you ready, understand?”

Quinn did. They didn’t have lube, only spit, which shouldn’t have been as much of a turn-on as it was, but when Zane sat up, dropping spit into his palm, Quinn shivered.

Zane pulled Quinn flush to his chest, then reached around him, sliding his finger down Quinn’s crack to get to his hole. Quinn whimpered, dropping his forehead to Zane’s slick shoulder as he was fingered open. It was slow, so slow Quinn nipped at Zane’s skin in frustration, but Zane kept spitting onto his hand, kept working his fingers in and around Quinn’s hole to loosen him up. One teasing finger became two, and Quinn panted wetly against Zane’s skin, letting him take control.

Three fingers hurt. Quinn hissed, pulling his face from Zane’s shoulder. Zane kissed his cheeks, his wet lips, and his sweaty brow. The wait got too much, and Quinn pushed Zane back down again until he was flat on the floor.

“Are you sure?” Zane asked.

Quinn nodded, spitting into his own hand to slick up Zane’s cock.

“I’m sure,” he breathed.

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