The Deal

When he'd been in jail, it was easy for Raymond to forget about Addy. He had to survive, to keep from catching someone's attention who'd tell him what pretty blue eyes he has and push him to his knees in the shower. He had to be smart and useful and something other than somebody's bitch. To be respected.

He wasn't quite sure how it happened. It. Curtis. Yappy little blond punk so fucking crazy that even the big guys stayed away, knowing that messing with Curtis would land you with a knife in your testicles. Yet from Raymond all he seemed to want was cigarettes, hanging around and making it quietly clear that Raymond wasn't to be messed with.

"Why are you here?" he asked one day, but Curtis had just smirked.

"Guys like us have to stick together," he replied, then tipped his head back and blew smoke rings towards the sky. "Don't you worry, baby blues. Not just waiting for you to drop the soap. That doesn't do it for me. I only fuck consensual."

Raymond tried to tell himself that he went to Curtis because that was how things worked, because there was no such thing as a free ride. But truthfully being behind bars did things to a man. Things that sometimes involved a quiet corner of the laundry, in his lips pressed hard to Curtis's, tasting cigarettes and feeling the strange tickle of the man's goatee against his skin. With Curtis's fingers tangled in his hair and his tongue licking into Raymond's mouth, he found himself kissed so throughly, so hungrily, that he couldn't help but forget Addy. There was only Curtis, strength and warmth and passion, pinning him up against the wall and covering his body with hard kisses and teasing bites until he was hard and aching.

Curtis was dark nights and silence, hands covering each other's mouths as they jerked each other frantically, because it was the only way to keep Curtis quiet. It was slipping to his knees and unbuckling Curtis's jumpsuit, licking him, sucking at the head of his cock and stroking him, listening to Curtis's whispered encouragements and little chokes of pleasure to learn how he liked it. Afterwards Curtis would just grin at him, wide and warm and appreciative, stroking fingers over his face and lips before returning the favor.

He would have lived his days in fear if it hadn't been for Curtis. When his parole was approved it almost seemed strange to think about leaving. He let Curtis fuck him, finally, slow and hot and intense, with Curtis pressed against his back, rocking deep inside him as he stroked Raymond's cock. "See?" he murmured, kissing the back of his neck. "This is the best way to do it."

"Look me up when you're out next month," Raymond said later, perched on the edge of Curtis's bunk. "I'll see if I can get you in with my crew. The boss owes me."

"Deal," Curtis replied, and grinned.
~~~