Page 10 of Boyfriend on Parole: The Care of Broken Things Extended Epilogue (Breaking Free #2)

He tried to arrest the movement, taking hold of Nathaniel, holding up his weight by the armpits so that he wouldn’t continue to sink. But Nathaniel laughed—laughed!—even if it was a little breathless. “I said not bleeding. Not bleeding at all. Here, just a second.”

Nathaniel took hold of his shoulder, bracing himself as he shut his eyes.

He took a breath, another, and opened . It was a thing of deliberation.

A thing of practice. The difference wasn’t overtly obvious, but it was there, that asphyxiation-like tightness easing a little as the man forced himself to relax.

Again, the sinking resumed, and he realized in his distraction that he had allowed his support to wane. He stiffened his arms again and tried to stop it, but Nathaniel squeezed his shoulder, letting his face fall against his. “It’s alright now. Kiss me.”

He didn’t mean to comply, but Nathaniel’s mouth was right there and the kiss so soft.

It still had some of that urgency in it, the thrumming electricity coursing just beneath the surface, contained, not subsumed, but Nathaniel was controlling it, still forcing that relaxation and pushing it into him too.

He tasted him, that mouth making him pant with it, and another sound, softer but still audible in that small space, escaped him.

Nathaniel took him, that slow progression, until he was seated properly, all the way to the base, engulfed. “There,” the man said into his mouth. “How is that?”

He hardly knew what to answer. There was a terrible feeling in him. The urgency rising despite his best efforts to force it down, that animal inside him shouting move! “I’m inside. Inside you.”

It was the stupid thing—the obvious thing. There was no reason to say it except that it was all he could think, all he could bear. Inside. Not in prison. Not locked away or restrained or drowning in the fear, but inside Nathaniel.

“Yes,” Nathaniel said, the answer a kiss, the taste so sweet, the softness so sweet, his heart sloshing in the unbearable sweetness of it. “Inside. Exactly where I wanted you.”

He heard Eli’s exhale, slow and exasperated. “Reckless. So reckless. We should be doing this at home.”

“ You do this at home,” Nathaniel said, tilting his face a little to form the seal again, and kissed into Samuel.

He wished he could say he chose right. He wished he could say he proved himself.

But he was too young and too innocent to pleasure to resist it properly, and he lost himself, giving over as Nathaniel took his hands to place them where he wished, following helplessly with each murmured instruction as the man guided him, telling him, “Yes, like that. Take me just like that. So full of you. I love it deep like that. Like you’re coming up into my stomach.

I love it, so don’t stop. Push into me, Sammy.

Yes, push up deep. Don’t be scared. I won’t let you hurt me.

I won’t, so—oh, Sam. Just like that. Just like that, yes, baby.

I I love it there. Love it in me, oh god, just push up into me. Fuck me. Sammy, fuck me. Fuck me .”

And he did fuck him. First up into him, as he said, each push a slow slide into that deeper heat that only made that awful creature in him shout louder and louder to Hurry!

For fuck’s sake, hurry! Every slow movement another denial of that inner creature, but also capitulation, unable to stop or even to pause.

But it was creeping in, no, faster than creeping, and relentless, always, always, it was cranking up, and only propelled onward with Nathaniel’s encouragement of, “Yes, like that, more like that. I can take more. Fuck, Samuel, give me more.” So maybe he had to do it, like there was no choice, Nathaniel giving him no choice, or maybe he simply wanted no choice but to have him and have him, pushing up not enough, maybe, because when he pushed him, they fell back to the seat, and he remembered about how much better that was, how good it was to be horizontal where he could press down properly, his weight helping him to squash down on Nathaniel.

Pressing, always pressing, few clothes to impede them, and none on Nathaniel at all and oh, all that skin, the paleness of him, as light as Eli was dark, so light he could see the whole network of veins in his chest, the chords in the man’s neck straining as he pushed into him again and again to take him, oh god just to take him, to fuck him to death.

That kind of wording would have frightened him if he’d heard it, but he was hardly hearing anything anymore, the roaring in his ears too loud, his head swimming with too little air, needing to breathe better, but unable to pull away from that mouth.

More and more, without caution now as he sprinted toward the end, his hips snapping into him, his hand smacking into the opposite door, the only precaution he took to protect his partner’s head, and then it didn’t matter, that whiting out again, too far and too late to stop.

He didn’t know what he said or how he said it, only that he had done it, unable to feel the boundaries any longer and knowing he must have melded and solidified, no longer only himself, but a part of his partner.

Not Samuel, but Nathaniel now, and how much better that was. To be Nathaniel, and for always.

He wasn’t quite aware, still dazed as Nathaniel turned his face for him in time to take it, but as Eli finished, hovering there between the break in the seats, he took the spray of it over his face, his mouth half open, and then wider as he realized, midway through, what was happening, his heart slamming, waking up again to take it, wanting to take it, but mostly too late, he tried to reach, to close his mouth over the end of it, but too late.

With a groan, Eli took hold of his chin, but not to guide him to that place, only to hold him, to touch him, and then to lean in to kiss him, heedless of the mess.

He caught at the man’s shirt, thinking to pull him in, to just haul him over the hump between the seats to join them, but Eli’s other hand was planted on the headrest, and he didn’t go, laughing, a little, into his mouth. “Aren’t I criminal enough already?”

No, he wasn’t, especially if it meant he wouldn’t join them. Samuel couldn’t think of a single reason why he might not have him. Not even as Eli tossed his pants back at his husband and said, “before your parole officer catches wind of your escapades.”

It was only as Nathaniel pulled them on that it began to trickle in that it was over—the worst possible thing.

“No,” he said, pressing himself there between Nathaniel’s arms so he couldn’t put on anything more. “I want to—”

Nathaniel kissed him. “Yes, me too.”

“But—”

Eli turned his face again, but it wasn’t for anything good, only some wet wipes that he tried to attack with.

Samuel tried to jerk away from it, like a child refusing to go home after an outing, but Eli only laughed and pulled him back again.

“Do you think it’s over? I haven’t even touched you, and you think it’s over? ”

It did seem to be over though. Nathaniel was even pulling his shirt over his head.

With a jerk, he grabbed it away, a petty revenge, but Nathaniel didn’t much care.

“No shirt then,” the man said easily and reached over to pull his underwear off for him—something he was more than willing to indulge in.

But it was a trick. A lie. Because it wasn’t for good things, it was only because they had new clothes for him in a bag.

Underwear and some sweatpants and he was not happy, even when Nathaniel told him the things were Eli’s, which only made it a little better, but not enough when it meant getting dressed.

“At least the underwear,” Nathaniel said. “We’ll hit the toll booth soon.”

He didn’t want to, even seeing the need for it, he didn’t want to.

He was about to beg for just five minutes more when a car whipped by at something like eighty miles per hour.

Extremely fast. Far over the speed limit for what was still a relatively small road.

For someone who had not been properly outside for six years, it was extremely frightening, especially when he considered that the car had passed on Nathaniel’s side—Nathaniel, who really, when you thought about it, wasn’t much bigger than Hailey.

He snatched him up, his heart thrashing against his ribs. “Eli!”

Eli clicked his tongue. “Goddamn maniac. Than, get his seatbelt on, will you?”

Nathaniel said something soft to him he didn’t hear, his heart thumping too loud.

He didn’t want to let go of him, not for a second, but they needed to get home, to have Eli get Nathaniel safely home.

Worse, he was forced to consider that all year long Nathaniel had been commuting to the prison at least twice a week for over a year.

How many such maniacs he’d met on the road—and how many times he’d been put into danger, just to give him a visit when really a phone call would have sufficed. “We need to get home.”

Nathaniel had extricated himself and was trying to thread his partner’s legs through Eli’s underwear. “Put your foot through here. God, your thighs are like granite.”

“Is that good?” Personally, he thought they looked a little lumpy. He’d probably been working out too much, a side effect of his restlessness after Eli was gone.

“It’s fucking beautiful, is what it is. I just want to bite you all over.”

Even with the death careening around them, that was distracting. “You can do whatever you want.”

Eli laughed. “I wouldn’t give that whore of yours blanket permission. You have no idea how many weird things he’s into.”