Page 4 of The Stay


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Ash wanted to get eaten alive by him. Burned by him in that uncontrollable fire that the guy seemed to possess, but had yet to master. Like an apprentice magician, unformed, unchecked, unschooled. Uncontrolled, with the power to unleash all the darkness of the universe, but so unaware of it. So blissfully innocent to the chaos he could unleash.

Ash liked that. He, himself, brought his own brand of chaos to the world around him. To his family. Kicked out of college for taking nude photos and submitting them as his coursework. They were consensual, but they were erotic and provocative. They were good fucking photos but the college had expelled him. And his family had sent him away. It didn’t help that the photos starred him and the girl next door. And the boy next door. At the same time.

Ash smirked at the memory. That had been a good threesome. But half his friends had thought he’d taken it too far. The neighbors on one side were old family friends, the son was the winner of the national math challenge four years running. The neighbors on the other side were business partners of Ash’s father, the daughter was dating the captain of the college football team, so the whole ménage à trois had not gone down well with anyone. His parents wanted a calm, academic and obedient, middle class son. One who would do a traditional subject at school, and go into the family’s accounting business. He would marry a good Christian girl who could bake, pop out some kids and live a quiet life. That wasn’t Ash. Ash was bisexual to start with. Or pansexual. He didn’t care for the labels. Ash kept his hair messy and long, like a teenage skater boy. He had a tattoo on his wrist that was visible even if he wore a long sleeve shirt. He spent all his allowance on a banged up old motorcycle that leaked oil onto his parents' driveway, frequently broke down and created way too much noise for their civilized suburban street.

Nix was Ash’s kryptonite. Everything he shouldn’t want. Everything he shouldn’t have. Ashhadto get closer. He had to. Even if it killed him.

But it wouldn’t. Because Ash wasn’t just a rebel without a cause, he was smart; calculating, observant, perceptive. He could read people, he saw things, he had a certain way about him. It had made him a good concierge, the summer job he’d been lured into working for free before he’d met Colt and April.

He grunted at the memory, working through the motions at the exclusive lodge retreat, his uncle’s establishment, pandering to rich guests wanting an ‘authentic’ woodland spa experience. Amusing himself by fucking the local tattoo artist, and undermining his uncle at any opportunity he could. Until April and Colt had shown up. Blasting into his life and changing everything. Saving him. Giving him space to grow and breathe.

Until he’d been locked up, of course. Another nail in the coffin of his relationship with his family. His little sister, he might be able to salvage a relationship with one day. They’d been close when they were younger. But his parents, fuck them. They were dead to him, as he was to them. No looking back. He’d cried his tears, and he’d come to terms with it. Now he only had the path ahead of him, no going back. But that was all he needed. That was all he wanted. He had the Black Coyotes MC, and April and Colt. They’d get him out. They had promised. Ash had faith in them.

Ash took a breath in, and levered his back off the bunk bed behind him, looking this new cellmate up and down, and up again. Ash got what he wanted in life. He pushed and he wheedled. He befriended when he needed to, he played hard ball when that didn’t work. He didn’t take no for an answer. He didn’t see impossibility. Ash only saw yes. He wouldn’t hear no.

He vowed to himself that night, that he would get a ‘yes’ to come out of this guy’s mouth by the end of his stay, if it killed him. He’d get a breathy, begging, desperate yes out of those beautiful plump lips if it was the last thing he did.

The guard pushedhim into the dark cell, and Nix gritted his teeth to stop himself from wanting to turn, yank his hands out of the guard’s grip, and headbutt him.

And then laugh cruelly as the guard crumpled to the floor.

He let the waves of guilt and shame crash against him, because he knew he shouldn’t be violent.

And he would float on the foam of the rolling mess that he left behind him.

That was the problem with Nix. That had always been his problem. He liked causing chaos. He liked getting into trouble. He liked getting a rise out of others. He liked getting punished. He liked feeling shame.

“Ash, we’ve got you a new puppy,” the guard mocked, dragging Nix into the cell by his handcuffed hands. Nix tripped over his feet on purpose, making it as hard as possible without overtly obstructing the guard. He couldn’t afford another stint in solitary. It was too fucking miserable.

“Mongrel, more like.” The guard snickered at his own joke. Oh, he was a fucking cock. The guard was under the mistaken impression that the name calling bothered Nix. He thought it degraded Nix, broke him down, broke his spirit. Fucking wrong. Nix grinned to himself. He ate shit like this for breakfast.

“Nix has been a naughty boy,” the guard carried on. “He’s made an enemy or two over on D block. Had to move him.”

Nix smirked. There was another guy in the cell but Nix’s eyes were struggling to adjust to the dimmer light. He kept his attitude up, he had no idea who he’d been put in with. He couldn’t appear weak. He didn’t want to get himself into another fucked up situation like last time. He caused trouble there, ‘cause he liked trouble. But it turned out the trouble was bigger than he was.

“He’s house trained. Barely.” The guard snickered at his own lame joke, again. “But a stray.”

This comparing him to an animal… Nix sucked his teeth slightly. He felt the flame of humiliation beginning to lick his ankles. He felt his face getting hot, his heartbeat pounding in his eardrums.

“Could do with a bath, filthy mutt,” the guard said, turning things slightly darker now. The guard didn’t realize this was the color Nix preferred. He thought this would shame him? Nix? Being compared to a dirty stray dog? Nix tried to swallow. He was hard. He felt the shame in himself. And it turned him the fuck on.

And he hated that it turned him on.

And that turned him on even more.

The other guy in the cell had said nothing, wisely.

“Oh, Nix, don’t think we are putting you up with Mr. Nice Guy here,” the guard said mockingly. “MC member, this one.”

Nix cringed inside. Fuck. Great, just his fucking luck, out of one gang member’s cell and into another. An MC no less. Some tough live fast, die young fucker? Some noble, ‘bros before hoes’, code of honor shit? Nix sighed.

“Our little jailbird here, doing time for his MC, for his daddy Prez.”

Nix still couldn’t quite see the face of the other guy. It was too dark and the guy’s hair was all over his face.

“Black Cougars or something, isn’t it, Jailbird?” the guard mocked.

The guy flexed his neck and Nix heard the tendons crack once, twice.

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