Straight Boy: A Short Story

Straight Boy

Part I: Straight in Prison

Part II: Starved

STRAIGHT BOY:

A Short Story

(Straight Guys #0.5)

Alessandra Hazard

Copyright © 2014 Alessandra Hazard

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons are purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This short novelette contains explicit sexual M/M content and graphic language. It is intended for mature audiences only.

PART I: STRAIGHT IN PRISON

Sage’s mom used to tell him that one day his face would get him into trouble.

It looked like today was that day.

Keeping his eyes down, Sage followed the guard to his cell, feeling uneasy and strange in his new overalls. Like a criminal.

Sage almost laughed at himself. He
was
a criminal now, after having been sentenced to a year in prison for driving under the influence and injuring another person. It had been an accident, but no one cared. Well, he did, and Laura—his girlfriend—did too, and his mom had cried when the sentence was read out.

Sage swallowed, remembering his mom’s crushed expression. She had looked so small and old all of a sudden, and it was his fault. She always worried too much about him.

He pushed the thought away, trying to ignore the other prisoners banging against the bars and leering as he walked by. They were shouting obscenities that made his stomach twist into knots and bile rise to his throat.

He hoped it wasn’t obvious how scared he was. He wasn’t exactly skinny and short—he was taller than average, and he had some decent muscles—but he was nowhere as big as some of those guys. They were built like tanks. Truth be told, Sage was completely terrified, and once again, he wanted to kick himself for getting drunk and ending up in this mess. When he got out of here, he would never, ever get drunk again—if he got out of here at all. He’d be sharing his cell with someone who was most likely stronger, tougher, and meaner than he was—with a real criminal.

The guard shoved him into the cell. The door closed and locked behind him with a loud and somehow unsympathetic click.

Sage wet his lips, eyeing his cellmate.

The guy was lying on the bottom bunk, his eyes closed, so Sage took the opportunity to study him. He was tall and well-built. Dark, slightly curly hair, crooked nose, thick eyebrows, naturally tanned skin. He looked almost Hispanic, but not quite. He was probably around thirty, maybe thirty-five at most.

“You done staring?” the guy said, without opening his eyes.

Sage flinched. “Um, yeah. Sorry.”

“The top bunk is mine.”

Sage wanted to ask why he was lying in his bunk, then, but he had to bite his tongue. Being a smart-ass was probably not a good idea.

“I’m Sage.”

The guy opened his eyes. They were deep brown and oddly intense. His gaze swept over Sage before lingering on his mouth. “Nice to meet you, Sage. How well do you suck dick?”

Sage flushed, stepping back. “I’m straight.”

The guy lifted his eyebrows, looking vaguely amused. “Everyone’s straight here, Blue Eyes.”

“I have a girlfriend!”

The guy looked unimpressed. “Most of us have wives and girlfriends back home.” He got out of the bunk. A predator. He seemed like a predator.

His heart in his throat, Sage stepped back.

But instead of molesting him, the guy stretched his hand out for a handshake. “I’m Xavier.”

Taken aback, Sage shook the hand warily.

“It’s probably been a long day for you,” Xavier said. “Go to sleep. Nobody wanders around during the night.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, immensely relieved. The guy had been probably just joking when he said that stuff about sucking his dick. Of course he was joking.

“I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” Xavier said. “Goodnight.”

Sage blinked. “What the—? You aren’t fucking me, dude!”

Xavier smiled. It was a surprisingly nice smile, his teeth white and even. He stepped closer to him until they were not even an inch apart. Sage swallowed, acutely aware that the guy was taller than him and much wider in the shoulders.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Xavier said softly, looking him in the eye. “I’m going to fuck you. It’s going to happen and you’d better get used to the idea. You’re lucky you’re with me. I won’t hurt you, I won’t force myself on you, and I’ll protect you from others—if you suck my dick well. Believe me, other guys won’t be as nice as me.”

“If you aren’t going to force me, it’s not happening,” Sage said, trying to keep his voice firm. “Sorry, but I’m really straight. I have a girlfriend I love.”

For some reason, that made Xavier chuckle. “You’re lucky it’s boring as hell here and I love a good challenge.”

Before Sage could say anything, Xavier climbed onto the top bunk and before long was asleep.

Sage stood still, staring at nothing for a long time.

He barely slept that night.

The next morning came all too soon for his liking.

But it wasn’t as bad as he had expected—and feared.

The day passed normally enough. Yeah, he was ogled at and groped more than he had ever been in his life, but it wasn’t that bad. No one tried to attack him. No one tried… anything else.

When his work day was over, it was shower time—something he’d been dreading all day.

Once in the showers, Sage didn’t know which way to turn. He didn’t want other inmates to ogle his dick, but he didn’t want to turn his back to anyone, either. So he washed, awkwardly shifting and turning. There were guys groping each other and some doing more than that, but the guards didn’t seem interested in stopping them as long as it seemed mostly consensual. And even if it wasn’t, they didn’t seem all that eager to do anything. There was a big guy in the opposite corner forcing his dick down another guy’s throat. Sage tried hard not to look that way. His heart beat so fast he thought he was going to be sick.

He saw many other guys eyeing him interestedly, but no one tried anything. Sage suspected that it had something to do with Xavier, who stayed close to him, silent and stony-faced.

Deciding that no one was going to attack him, Sage relaxed a bit.

It was a mistake.

Halfway through the shower, he felt it: a hand on his ass.

Sage froze and then looked at Xavier. “Keep your hands to yourself,” he hissed. He knew better than to make a scene. Sage might not know much about prison hierarchy, but he knew enough. He knew Xavier would have to demonstrate who was in charge here if Sage made him look weak.

Xavier looked at him calmly, dark eyes unreadable. “I need to show everyone that you’re mine,” he said quietly. “If I don’t, other guys will get ideas. You don’t want that, do you?”

Sage glared at him, but as much as he hated it, the guy was right. If he had to choose between being considered his cellmate’s plaything and being gangbanged, he knew what he would choose.

So he didn’t move away, letting Xavier keep a proprietary hand on his butt. His face was probably bright red—it was a huge blow to his masculinity. He wondered if this was how women felt when men objectified them.

When shower time was finally over, he shook Xavier’s hand off, dressed and walked back to the cell quickly.

Xavier didn’t return immediately.

When he did, Sage tensed involuntarily, gripping the book he was trying—and failing—to read.

“Relax, Pouty Lips,” Xavier said with a snort.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want.”

Sage felt a surge of helpless anger, but he said nothing. Truth be told, Xavier unnerved him. He was different from other inmates: quiet and intense in a strange way. He didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t boast like other inmates did, but from what Sage had seen that day, Xavier seemed well-respected, even feared.

“What are you in here for?” Sage asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

“Killed eight people at a mall,” Xavier said, looking him in the eye.

Sage blinked. “You’re joking, right?”

Xavier made a shrugging gesture that could be interpreted either way. Sage really hoped he was joking.

“How old are you?” Xavier said suddenly, eyeing him.

“Twenty-three.”

Xavier studied him for several moments before getting into his bunk. What a strange guy.

* * *

Days passed by, and the prison life was nothing like Sage imagined. For one thing, it was far more boring than he’d ever thought. He couldn’t do anything he wanted. Everything he did was controlled and regulated, and it started slowly driving him mad. Sometimes it got so boring he felt like he had to do something drastic just to escape the monotony. Now he could understand why there was so much violence in prison: people had to entertain themselves. It freaked him out and scared him that he was starting to relate to those criminals.

The other inmates mostly left him alone, but Sage had no delusions about that. He saw the looks other men gave him. He was blond, blue-eyed and too damn “pretty” not to attract attention. As much as he hated that he had to depend on Xavier, the guy was the only thing that kept others away. By the end of the second week, Sage was already so used to having Xavier’s proprietary hand on him in the showers that he just ignored it.

But although he knew everyone thought he was Xavier’s bitch, being called that to his face was a different thing entirely.

“I’m not his bitch,” he snapped when Arman, the guy he’d formed a tentative friendship of sorts with, called him that jokingly. “He isn’t fucking me.”

Arman gave him an odd look and didn’t say anything.

Sage thought nothing of it until he returned that evening to their cell and found Xavier waiting for him already. And he was angry as hell, his dark eyebrows drawn into a line, his lips pressed together.

Xavier was on him before he could even blink. He shoved Sage against the wall, pressing his arm against his throat. “Do you want me to kill you? You made me look like a fucking liar. Is that your gratitude?”

Sage licked his lips. “Sorry. I didn’t think Arman would tell anyone.”

Xavier scoffed. “You’re such a naive baby. Never trust anyone.”

“And I should trust you?”

Xavier smiled. “You shouldn’t trust me, either.” His smile disappeared as quickly as it appeared. His face was grim now. “If people call you my bitch, you say you’re my bitch. Got it?”

“Fuck you.” Sage tried to shove him off, but only ended up rubbing himself against Xavier.

“I will,” Xavier murmured into his ear, biting it.

Sage flushed. “Fuck off.”

“You’ll be begging me soon,” Xavier said, pressing harder into him. His weight, his strength, his scent… It was overwhelming Sage’s senses in a strange, disturbing way.

“Never.”

Xavier pulled away. Sage breathed out.

“Fine. If you don’t want my protection, you’re free to do whatever you want. I’ll let people know I don’t give a fuck if anyone touches you.”

Sage swallowed, remembering the looks other inmates gave him in the showers. Being gangbanged wasn’t his idea of fun. He might hate Xavier, but at least the guy was unlikely to force him. Not because he was such a good guy—Xavier was an asshole, but he was an asshole who liked to play mind games and who was willing to wait until Sage begged him to fuck him. And since it was never going to happen, he was safer with Xavier. Probably. “Wait—don’t.”