Page 21 of Fragments
I’m in a bit of a fog as Jasper finally stops, pulling out for good and getting up without a word. I curl up like a satisfied kitten, reveling in the sensation for as long as I have it. No more than a few seconds.
My eyes creep open, eyeing the man who just fucked me. Who isnotLexington Deon, unfortunately. I observe him as he redresses, fixing himself up.
“Fire,” I sigh with a smirk.
He shoots me an admonishing glare and grumbles, “I’ll give you one match.”
Stomping out of my cell, he slams the bars as I hum, “That’s all I need.”
I’m playing with the iPad I got from Rook when the sound of the door opening catches my attention once more.
I kind of enjoy having a cell near the door. It makes it easier to hear things that are happening on the other side. Of course, it would be nice to be closer to Lex… He’s all the way at the other end of our row. But as much as I hate being away from him, I know it’s for the best.
I wore him down once.Clearly, it didn’t go over well.
The real bummer about my current living situation, aside from the obvious fact that it’s in a disgusting prison, is that I’m alone. There are positives to it, sure. Like having extra space, and privacy when I’m using the bathroom, or giving myself enemas, which, yes, happens a lot. Not exactly something I’d wanna do in front of people…Been there, done that.
Some of my old clients back at The Edge were real perverts.
But the drawback is a lack of companionship. Parker, my cellmate and probably best friend, aside from Lex and Byron, has been gone a while. He was a good dude. Fun to talk to, and believe it or not, one of very few people in this establishment I never fooled around with. Mainly because of his condition, but also, because since the moment I met him, he felt more like a brother to me than a potential sex partner. I’ve never felt that before…
I’m an only child. When I was a kid, I desperately wanted a sibling, but I knew it’d never happen. My parents barely wanted one, and they were more than disappointed when the one they had turned out to be a worthless mistake.
I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t have a sibling…
One less body found in charred rubble.
Parker was a cool, though. He was troubled, like most of us are, but he didn’t make it anyone else’s problem. He was just kind of… sad. But he had every right to be. Because he was like me; another body, used and discarded. Only his was ultimately saddled with something permanent and devastating.
I miss Parker. A lot. I wish this place hadn’t taken him before his time. I wish I’d… been there to help him.
Guilt and sadness claw at my insides as I wander up to the bars of my cell, gripping them in my fists. I watch through them as Rook and Joy stomp into the row, tugging along a new sad soul, shuffling in his shackles.
This must be Dascha Reznikov.
Hello, candy-coated sex god. He’s fucking gorgeous.
I mean, really,trulystunning. Tall, all lines and angles of sculpted beauty, with fear and anguish decorating his perfectly symmetrical features in a way that makes him a million times sexier. I can imagine him in a thong and glitter, dancing on one of the platforms at The Edge. Or maybe on a stage, draped in leather and mesh, singing emo songs.
His head is recently shaved, as is to be expected, hair color very similar to Lexington’s. Light blonde, although his is more of a more platinum shade than Lex’s California surfer palette.
The new inmate is being pulled down the row, and I call out a quick comment to Rook, earning me looks from him and Joy. But not the pretty boy bank robber. His gaze is stuck on his shoes, shoulders visibly slumped in despair.
Shackle up, Dascha. This is just the beginning.
They keep moving, and I peer through the bars, watching them bring him all the way down to the end of the row. I gulp, squeezing the rusty steel so hard, my hands begin to hurt.
Is he going to Lex’s cell…?
Is he… Lex’s new cellmate??
My stomach tightens in distress, a palpable wave of jealousy crashing through me. It reminds me of when Lex got his last cellmate, Henry.
I might need to have the same conversation with Dascha that I had with Henry Landon… Let him know if he lays a finger on Lexington Deon, he better be prepared to lose it.
I spend the next few minutes pacing, yanking at my hair and mumbling to myself. I don’t like this…I hate it.
I hate him being so goddamn far away from me. I can’t even hear what he and Dascha are talking about down there. I have absolutely noideawhat’s going on in that cell, and it feels like blazing torture.
