A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Three - He's Always Looking At Men

xoxoxo

It was hard to tell time in the prison. There was a time scheduled for everything in the main parts of the prison, but in death row, time was a precious thing- and they had no knowledge of it. Nobody came to tell them it was noon, or five to four, or that it was one a.m. and that they ought to get some sleep.

So when the lights in death row dimmed and then went out, signaling that the inmates were free to sleep, Gerard just rolled over in his stupid top bunk, the metal slats shifting above Frank.

He stared up at them, his mind frustrated. He wasn't sure what to do with his new cellmate, given that he had no explosives at his disposal.

And then it occurred to him- he would just do to him what he had done to all of his other cellmates.

Grinning in a sadistic way that nobody would understand, he silently slid out of his bunk and made his careful way up the ladder.

His head peeped over the edge of the mattress, only to find that Gerard was sitting up in bed, looking at him with that curious look again.

Frank hefted himself up so that he was kneeling on the end of the bed, not breaking eye contact with Gerard. He wasn't bad looking, he realized, and in the darkness his skin wasn't so freakishly pale.

"What can I do for you, Frankie dear?" Gerard asked, tilting his head to the side.

There was a long pause.

"Fuck me," Frank finally whispered.

He heard a rustling and a mutter from one of the other cells.

Momentary surprise showed in Gerard's eyes before he narrowed them a little, looking Frank over thoughtfully before he lunged forward, with what seemed like no thought at all.

Frank had a second's warning before Gerard was kissing him hard, fingers tangled tight in his hair as their bodies pressed together.

That was a quick response.

He went easily, letting Gerard's arms lock around him, holding him there as his hands tugged at his hair. Sharp bursts of pain coursed through Frank at that, but he ignored them and instead focused on the heat of their mouths, sliding and slipping, the biting edges of their teeth. Gerard's hair was strangely silky to the touch as he ran his fingers through it. His nails scraped at the other's scalp once, and the punishment was quick and painful- Gerard bit down hard on his bottom lip, hard enough to break the skin and draw blood.

Frank tried to push away the prickles of fear he felt at that, the way it had been so instant and unforgiving- Gerard had not hesitated to bite as hard as he possibly could. And it hurt like a bitch.

But it wasn't stopping either of them. Frank shifted and Gerard growled deep in his throat, nudging his body against him while still holding him forcefully down, hands gripping his back and ass. The rough orange of their uniforms made scratching noises as they progressed, Frank trying to gulp in air whenever they broke apart.

And then Gerard rolled his hips, grinding against Frank, and Frank did the natural thing- he moaned.

And Gerard, grinning wickedly, unwrapped his arms and pushed him away.

Frank almost fell off the edge of the bunk (which would have been bad- the floor was concrete), losing his balance and clutching at the sheets for some sort of support.

Gerard was giggling, propped up on his elbows and looking at Frank.

Frank tasted blood. Yeah, his lip was definitely bleeding.

"What-" he started.

"No, I won't fuck you," Gerard said, his tone cheery and carefree. "I'd really rather not."

There was a gasp somewhere in death row. So they had been listening... not that they really had a choice.

Frank opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

"Excuse me for saying so, but you look like a fish," Gerard pointed out, his face carefully composed.

"What- you don't...?"

"I'm fairly sure I said no."

"But nobody-"

"Ah ah ah!" Gerard said, holding up a finger. "Somebody just did."

Frank was confused. He was very attractive- he knew it was a fact. He was delicate and feminine enough for the straighter guys, hot and muscular enough for the guys who were more feminine themselves. Nobody in their right mind (or not quite right mind) refused him, and yet, Gerard just had.

And Frank was hard, too. Fucking... fuck this guy, that was just evil.

When Frank was silent, Gerard said, "You should probably go and take care of that." He nodded towards the problematic bulge in Frank's ugly orange pants.

Frank finally made a high pitched, extremely irritated and angry sound before glaring at Gerard and climbing down the ladder.

Gerard had made a fool out of him, that fucker! It wouldn't happen again, Frank silently vowed.

He reached the cold floor and glanced back up at Gerard. He stared a little longer than he'd meant to- Gerard was holding something in his hands, something which appeared to be the pendant on a necklace. It was a gold cross, with a red stone in the middle, the color of blood.

Frank knew he would lose it the next day when the guards looked them over with metal detectors. It served the dickhead right.

He exhaled forcefully, crawling into his own uncomfortable bed, drawing the rough cotton covers up around his small frame. He curled into a ball, burying his face in the starched pillow. It smelled like bleach. His still remaining hard-on pressed stubbornly against his stomach, and he squeezed his eyes shut in frustration.

He hoped Gerard didn't hear him jerking off that night.

But he probably had.

And so had the rest of death row.