The Prison (Book 1)

Yes!

This chapter contains mature content. Read at your discretion.

Yes!

"I was hoping you would remember yourself." Schneizel got off the bed and I instantaneously missed his warmth and his masterful touch. "Without having to remind you myself."

I detected a foreign note in his voice that I'd never heard before. I sat up in bed and watched him climb up into his bunk. My eyes were drawn to his swinging dick as he did, colored a furious shade of red, fully erect and clearly angry for having been denied its release. The upper bunk sagged under Schneizel's weight.

Oh, no. I'd killed the mood with my stubbornness again! My stomach sank. I tensed, back straight as a ramrod, cursing myself for my incredible stupidity and naïveté. What had I been thinking? Did I really think that I'd corner Schneizel into confessing something, and offer myself in return? I was hardly a sex siren. Heck, I wasn't sure what he saw in me—

He leapt off the upper bunk onto the ground, landing agilely onto his two feet, then swung around. I gulped, feeling my throat suddenly go desert-dry. Talk about a man who was comfortable in his own skin. And who could blame him? The man was a sex god, with a body like that of a Greek or Renaissance sculpture. No artist would do him justice. He was all hard lines and powerful masculinity, a work of art made by divine hands.

With great effort, I tore my gaze from him and looked at whatever it was he was holding in his hand. It was a piece of paper. I looked up from it and met his eyes. I was immediately hypnotized by the darkness of his eyes and the thickness of his lashes. There was something in them that I immediately recognized, like it was calling out to me. He'd looked at me with that very same look many times before. It was now that I was starting to understand it: Schneizel was looking at me with longing. With desire.

He held out the piece of paper. I took the paper with both hands, feeling my nervousness mount. It turned out to be a photograph; slightly crumpled, its edges frayed from the years of being handled. I stared down at the two small figures that innocently and playfully grinned back at me. One of them was very familiar. In fact, it was myself, only over a decade younger, though I couldn't remember what age exactly. The other figure was... I stared, shocked and confused.

"We've met... but... how?"

The other figure had to be Schneizel, also ten years or so younger. A memory resonated in my mind so strongly, so powerfully, I was glad I was already sitting down because my head started pounding. A powerful shudder gripped me.

My family and I had visited my now deceased, well-off uncle for the weekend over a decade ago. I'd gotten bored after a day of grownup talk and had decided to go out for a walk in the neighborhood. I recalled how significantly cleaner the neighborhood was, and how the houses were better called mansions. In my stroll, I'd come across the neighborhood's park, where I'd met who I now realized to be Schneizel for the very first time in my life.

While the rest of the children had been playing with the seesaw and swinging from the swings, he'd stood by the trees, seemingly an outsider watching and wanting in. He'd looked all alone to me that it had tugged at something deep within me. And so, I'd gathered my courage and had gone to him with a proposal in mind. "I'm visiting my uncle down the road for a couple of days. Wanna play with me and show me around?" I'd suggested, holding out my hand.

After a moment of hesitation, the blue-eyed boy had accepted it.

"Where did you keep this?" I asked unthinkingly. I skimmed the faces with the pads of my fingers, feeling the smooth paper.

"Under my pillow."

"W-Why?"

"I like to keep things that I consider precious close to me at all times."

Things that I consider precious.

I was stunned into speechlessness by his answer, taken aback by how unabashed he was about confessing something that others would consider deeply personal and private. I tore my eyes away from the dark-haired boy, the spitting image of Schneizel, and looked him straight in the eyes. I'd never imagined him to be the sentimental type to keep things under his pillow.

"Where did you get this from?"

"From the old lady who took the picture."

Right.

She'd seen us playing in the park, making an impressive mess, more so than any of the other children. She'd thought us cute together and had offered to take an instant picture. Excited, we had stood hand in hand after a long debate of the best pose to strike, a yellow slide and a seesaw behind us in the background. It had been both embarrassing and hilarious at the same time.

I didn't realize that, after taking it, Schneizel must've acquired it.

"How could I forget this?" I wondered miserably, feeling my heart grow heavy with dread and guilt. I was forgetful at times, yes, but for me to forget something like this... for me to forget someone entirely... I was the worst.

"It was a long time ago... We were kids," he offered kindly. It was touching, seeing him try to ease my conscience. It made me realize that there were more sides to the man known as the King of the Prison from Hell than people gave him credit for.

Still, that fact that it was a long time ago was no excuse. Schneizel hadn't forgotten. I told him just that.

Schneizel didn't say anything. Instead, he plucked the photo from my hands, tucked it safely back under his pillow, and then sat down on my bunk next to me. Carefully, he held my face between his large hands as if my head was made of delicate glass, encasing it. The gesture surprised me so much that I looked away, unable to meet his heated gaze; it was so full of emotion.

"Look at me." I did as he asked, meeting his warm gaze. His voice when he spoke was steady, but I detected the intense emotions lurking behind his words, "I'm a man with few friends. I've always been a man with few friends, seeing how my father was a mob boss, and I myself aren't exactly an upstanding citizen. But you were the only kid in that park to reach out to me that day. The others were too afraid of me; they'd been told to stay away from me by their parents. I guess it's because you didn't know who I was. Still, you reached out to me without any hesitation as if we'd known each other for years. It was the first time I'd ever played with anyone aside from my brother."

Schneizel pressed his lips to my own. My eyes fluttered closed on their own accord. My loins stirred. "I've known who you are since the moment I first laid eyes on you in this cell." Suddenly, the slow, gentle kiss turned ferocious and wild, Schneizel's hunger taking on a feral edge. He buried one hand in my hair then fisted it and tilted my head to the side so that he had better access to my mouth, while the other held the back of my neck firmly in place for him. For a moment, I thought I'd be devoured right then and then.

Unashamedly, I moaned into the kiss just as his tongue gained entrance into my mouth and startled wrestling for dominance with mine.

Without warning, he grabbed my hips and hauled me onto his lap.

"I've wanted you ever since. Be mine, Aiden." he growled directly into my ear, then nipped at my earlobe and tugged at it.

"Yes!"