Ruaan moved.
The moment those words left Cullen's mouth he was off the bed — with his feet hitting the floor. His body moved before his brain had fully caught up with the decision.
He was not doing this.
He was not—
The top two were at the door.
Both of them. Standing side by side filling the entire frame, arms folded with blank expressions. Just — there.
Ruaan stopped.
He looked at the door and looked back at Cullen, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed, still smiling, watching Ruaan's escape attempt with amusement.
Ruaan looked for his cellmates.
Gone. All three of them.
They were probably having breakfast or taking their showers, wherever — they weren't here and they weren't coming and even if they were, he already knew what that would look like. He'd learned that lesson under a staircase with a fist in his face.
He was alone.
He rubbed his palms together and looked at Cullen and said the thing he had never in his life imagined himself saying.
"Please." His voice came out smaller than he wanted it to. "Don't. I can't — I can't give you what you want. I'm not—"
Cullen slowly tilted his head. Like he found the whole thing genuinely interesting.
He stood up.
"Please," Ruaan said again, backing up until his spine hit the cold concrete wall. "Cullen, listen—"
"I'm listening," Cullen said, still smiling. He took a step forward. "I'm listening to you beg. O-la-la-la. It's a nice sound."
Ruaan's eyes darted to the door again. The two men hadn't moved. They were almost like statues and he knew he was trapped.
He made a break for it anyway.
He feinted left, then lunged right, trying to slip past Cullen's reach. But Cullen was faster—deceptively quick for his size. A meaty hand shot out and clamped around Ruaan's bicep, yanking him off-balance. Ruaan stumbled, his free arm swinging wildly, connecting with nothing but air.
"Let go!" he shouted, panic shredding his voice.
Cullen didn't answer. He used Ruaan's momentum to spin him, then drove him forward. Ruaan's chest hit the edge of the lower bunk with a painful *thump* that knocked the wind from his lungs. Before he could suck in another breath, Cullen's weight was on him, pinning him over the hard mattress frame.
"Get off me!" Ruaan gasped, bucking and twisting. He managed to get an arm free and threw an elbow back. It connected with something solid—Cullen's ribs—and earned a grunt of annoyance.
"Feisty," Cullen growled, his breath hot and sour against Ruaan's ear. One arm snaked around Ruaan's chest, locking him in place. The other hand went to the waistband of Ruaan's grey trousers. "I like it."
"NO!" Ruaan screamed, desperately in the small cell. He kicked back, his heel connecting with Cullen's shin.
This time, Cullen's patience snapped. With a brutal shove, he threw Ruaan forward onto the floor. Ruaan landed hard on his hands and knees, the impact jarring his teeth. He scrambled, trying to crawl away, but Cullen was on him in an instant.
A heavy knee landed in the centre of Ruaan's back, driving him flat against the cold concrete. The air left his lungs in a pained wheeze. He felt hands—not just Cullen's now—gripping his arms, wrenching them behind his back. The top two had joined in, their grips like iron manacles.
"Hold him," Cullen ordered, his voice thick with intent.
Ruaan was pinned, face pressed to the gritty floor, his body held immobile by the two larger men. He could only writhe helplessly as he heard the rustle of clothing behind him.
"Cullen, please," he sobbed, the fight draining out of him, replaced by a cold, clawing terror. "Don't do this. I've never—you'll hurt me, you'll—"
"Shut up," Cullen said. A hand—rough and calloused—slid under the waistband of his trousers and shorts, groping roughly at his ass. Ruaan cried out, squeezing his eyes shut.
He felt a thick and dry finger press against his entrance. It probed. Ruaan's body was tight with fear as he clenched violently in rejection.
"Fuck," Cullen hissed, pulling his hand back as if burned. "Like a fucking vice. Loosen up, you little bitch."
A sharp, stinging slap landed on Ruaan's ass cheek, making him jolt and cry out again.
"I said loosen up!" Cullen snarled. "I don't have any lube, so you're just gonna have to take it."
More rustling. The distinct sound of a zipper. Then Ruaan felt something else... something hot and terrifyingly large... nudge against him where that finger had failed. It was the thick head of Cullen's cock, already slick with pre-cum but nowhere near enough. It pressed insistently.
Ruaan braced himself, tears of shame and terror leaking from his clenched eyes. This was it. This was where it happened. He turned his face into the floor as that blunt pressure increased—
The gate rattled as one sharp knock interrupted them.
The top two flinched... No, both of them, at the same time, as their heads turned toward the door. Behind him, Cullen went still.
Ruaan opened his eyes.
At the gate, one hand still resting on the bars, stood Harolin.
He wasn't in his full uniform. Black training clothes, sleeves down this time, standing in the doorway of cell 109 like he had all the time in the world.
His eyes moved across the room once — the top two, Cullen, Ruaan on the floor — and came back to neutral.
Cullen's jaw tightened.
"The hell are you doing here, Snowflake?" he said.
Harolin looked at him.
Snowflake. Apparently, that was what Cullen Ray called the most terrifying officer in Blackmere. Ruaan would have filed that away to use later under different circumstances.
"I could ask you the same thing," Harolin said.
"I'm busy." Cullen grabbed his cock, completely unbothered, and tapped Ruaan's ass with it. "Can't you see?"
"I can see perfectly well." Harolin's expression didn't move. "Do you know what today is?"
Cullen looked at his top two.
The one on the left, after a second, said, "Friday, boss."
Cullen looked back at Harolin like Friday was an irrelevant piece of information.
"Friday," Harolin said, "is designated a rest day. Facility rules, section four, paragraph two. No physical confrontation, forced or otherwise, unless the other party is willing." He paused. "Is 2525 willing?"
Cullen looked down at Ruaan.
"You're willing, right?" he said pleasantly. "2525?"
Ruaan's hands were flat on the cold floor. His whole body was still shaking. He looked up and found Harolin's eyes from across the cell and looked back at the floor.
"No," he said. His voice cracked on the single syllable. He said it again, steadier. "No. I'm not."
Cullen's expression shifted again. The smile on his face vanished.
He stood up slowly and glared at Harolin.
"You've been here five minutes, Snowflake," he said. "Five. Damned. Minutes. You walk around like you own something. You give orders like you're running something." His voice stayed even but underneath it was an edge. "You're just an officer. A regular officer who showed up a few weeks ago. So who the hell do you think you are?"
Harolin looked at him for exactly three seconds.
"I think I'm the officer telling you to take your men and go back to your cell," he said. "Since you're done yapping."
The cell was very quiet.
The top two looked at each other, looked at Cullen and looked away.
Cullen breathed in slowly through his nose.
Then he reached down and adjusted himself, tucking everything back into his trousers. Not because he had to. He wanted that to be clear.
He stepped around Ruaan.
On his way to the door, he stopped and pressed his shoe down on Ruaan's hand.
"Tomorrow morning," Cullen said, looking down at him. "You come to my cell before breakfast." He pressed a fraction harder and then lifted his foot. "If I have to come back here myself—" he left the rest of it in the air "—it'll be a lot worse than today."
Ruaan said nothing and just nodded once.
Cullen walked out and the top two followed. The gate swung and the cell was empty.
Ruaan stayed on the floor till he heard footsteps. Harolin was already moving. He didn't even look up. He already knew the man wasn't going to crouch down and check on him or say something comforting.
He looked up anyway.
Harolin was standing at the gate, staring at him. Just for a second. Then he turned and walked out.
The gate clicked shut behind him.
Ruaan sat on the cold floor of cell 109 and stared at the empty doorway.
He looked at his hand. The one Cullen had stepped on and pressed it flat against the floor.
Tomorrow morning.
He had one night to make sure he didn't end up with Cullen.
He clenched his fist until his knuckles went white.
"I need to get stronger."
He breathed in.
"Very, very—"
He closed his eyes.
"Stronger."