Lockup My Heart Chapter 7/8

[latertech]

Authors: later2nite, techgirl_on_ij
Title: Lockup My Heart
Banner and icon: Made by the amazing michira_70. Thank you!



Brian tossed restlessly in his bed, the silent, still-black morning at odds with his nervous energy. Wondering if the sun intended to make an appearance at all that day, he shifted onto his side and read the time: 4:30 a.m. Falling back to sleep surely not going to happen, he reached for the lube and sneaked a hand beneath the duvet much earlier than usual, his fingers wrapping tightly around his hard-on.

Kicking the cover off, Brian opened his legs, rubbing the high grade lubricant over the head of his cock and down his shaft. Jerking himself off to images of Justin - out of jail and easily fuckable within a matter of hours - he groaned when he thought of spreading his cheeks and sliding inside his perfect ass.

Precum oozed from Brian’s slit, visions of Justin’s hot mouth and tongue flooding his mind. He squeezed harder and arched his back, his whole body rigid as his cock exploded, milky ropes of cum shooting up onto his stomach.

----------

Pulling into the Allegheny County Correctional Facility’s parking garage an hour ahead of schedule, Brian stopped by the release department to make certain everything was in order and then clocked in, giving Justin enough time to finish half his breakfast before falling into their well rehearsed routine. “Back to the cell for you!” he barked, yanking him up and roughly towing him to privacy.

“Brian, you’re early. You’re not supposed to be here until nine.” Justin sat on his bunk after playing along, perfected grimace and all, gesturing for his personal guard to join him. “Please don’t tell me there’s a problem. I can’t take it if anything got screwed up.”

Taking his hand, Brian leaned in to kiss the side of his face. “No problem whatsoever. I’ve seen for myself the warden’s John Hancock on the dotted line. You’ll be a free man by the end of the day. What?” he tacked on when Justin’s expression barely changed. “You’re gonna miss this luxurious accommodation? I know . . . you’re gonna miss that dishwashing job. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Justin finally cracked a smile. “I didn’t mind the dishwashing job. It kept me busy. It’s just that it’s hard to believe my sentence is really over. I think my brain won’t let me go there until I actually step foot off these grounds.”

“Well, you can tell your brain,” Brian glanced at his watch, “it’s got nine hours to psych up for the trip. You’ll have paid your debt to society for borrowing your dad’s gun without telling him, and your feet will be free to carry you off these sorry grounds.”

Justin raised one eyebrow. “I do hear my life calling,” he reasoned. “We’re all set with Daphne. I talked to her last night. She said she’ll be home from work around four.” He kissed Brian’s lips, lingering until the din of returning inmates pried them apart. “Thanks for doing this.”

Brian locked the cell from the outside. “Just call me your social worker.”

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“Hey, you found it! Come on in, Brian.” Daphne clasped his arm when she answered the door, drawing him over the threshold. “So today’s the big day!”

“Yeah, he’s done his time. His nightmare’s over,” Brian said, looking around the apartment Justin shared with his best friend. “He told me you wouldn’t mind getting some of his things for me to take?”

“Sure. I’ll only be a few minutes. Do you want a soda or something?”

Brian shook his head. “No, that’s okay. Thanks.”

“Go ahead and sit.” Nodding toward the sofa, Daphne disappeared down the hall into Justin’s bedroom and gathered some of his jeans and tee shirts along with a few toiletries from his bathroom. “This should be enough,” she said when she came back, handing Brian the bag she’d packed. “Enough clothes to hold him while he’s . . . how did he put it? Getting himself together before he jumps back into his old life? Yeah, that was it.”

Glossing over her facetious remark, Brian stood up and hoisted Justin’s bag over his shoulder. “He just needs a few days to ease into things, that’s all. I said he could stay with me while he works it all out.”

“Oh, right . . .” Daphne nodded playfully. “If that’s what you guys want to call it.” She hesitated only slightly before adding her expert observations. “You’re really falling for each other, aren’t you? I think it’s great that you want to spend some time together alone as soon as Justin’s free.”

Brian’s shrug was automatic, although his wry grin suggested he’d been busted. “Well, if you’re done analyzing us, I guess I’ll be on my way.” He reached for his keys in his pocket.

“Oh, I almost forgot! He wants his work stuff.”

Watching her walk over to a large drafting table in front of the dining room window and carefully sift through its drawers, Brian pictured Justin sitting there taking advantage of the natural light while he drew. “Thanks,” he said, taking his work planner and the charger for his phone from Daphne when she held them out. “I’ll see you later.”

“Hey, I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it.” Daphne followed him to the door. “It’s Justin’s life, and he has a right to put it back together the way he wants to.”

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Eric watched Justin collect his meager belongings from his half of the cell, wishing he were the one who’d be out of there in less than an hour. “So what’s next for you?”

“I’m gonna spend a few days with Brian . . . just soak up the peace and quiet and get started on rebuilding my company.”

“If you ever need any help with money, I’m your guy.”

Justin laughed outright for the first time that day. “Thanks, but I think both of us should try to stay out of jail in the future.”

“Okay, Taylor!” Doug’s voice cut in. “Time to leave.” He unlocked the door, standing to one side.

Turning back to his cellmate, Justin shook hands with him before he stepped out. “Look me up when you get released. You’ve been a good friend.”

“I just talked to Brian,” Doug said, locking Eric back in. “He’s waiting for you outside.” Guiding Justin through a labyrinth of long corridors and countless corners, he delivered him to an office in the administrative annex. “This is where you get the clothes you came in with and your personal effects returned to you,” he explained.

Justin filled out a form to receive his turtleneck sweater, black dress slacks and shoes, wallet, keys, watch, and cell phone, items that had been stored under lock and key for six months. Clutching his clothes in his arms stirred thoughts of the last time he’d taken them off, the intense anger he’d felt under the circumstances nearly blinding him. He smiled when he remembered how he’d discovered Brian, his imagination running wild with scenarios of what life would be like for them outside of the county jail.

“You change in there,” Doug told him, pointing to a closet-sized room across the hall. Following him in, he tried his best not to gawk while Justin undressed, prison regulations specifying that a correctional officer be physically present at all times during the release process. “Are you ready for the final stop on your good-bye tour?” he asked, tossing the discarded uniform into a bin outside the door.

Signing document after document, Justin didn’t even mind when the second truckload was shoved in front of him. He felt like hugging Doug in appreciation when the glass doors finally parted, but he simply nodded, the exit being heavily patrolled by armed law enforcement who looked as if they’d be spurred into action at that sort of thing. Breathing in a lungful of brisk evening air, he walked away from the building and straight into Brian’s arms, spotting him leaning against his car in a remote section of the parking lot.

“Nice to see you in your own clothes.” Brian stared at his ass. “You look seriously hot in these pants.”

“And yet I can’t wait to take a shower and put something else on. How’d it go with Daphne?”

“According to plan, with no snags. Your bag’s in the car.” Brian swept an arm toward his black Jeep Wrangler. “Ready?”

Justin glimpsed over his shoulder at the jailhouse one last time, the idea that he was truly free starting to sink in. “Fuck, yeah.”

Escorting him off the premises, Brian drove in silence to give him some space, only venturing, “Are you okay?” when he’d been staring blankly out the window for several minutes.

“It’s . . . a bit overwhelming.”

“It’s not like you’ve been in there for years.” Brian reached out, running his fingers through Justin’s hair.

“Yeah, I know. But still.” Justin turned to face him. “I’ve wasted six months of my life . . . all because of my dad.”

“You know how I feel about that. Shitty way to treat his own son.”

“I’ve lain awake plenty of nights, plotting my revenge to get back at him.” Justin gnawed on the side of his thumbnail. “You know what I decided on?”

Brian winced, almost afraid to hear what he’d cooked up.

“I’m officially done with him. From now on, I don’t have a father. No phone calls, no contact, no nothing. He’s out of my life forever.”

“You’re a wise man, Justin Taylor.”

----------

“Wow! This is amazing!” Justin raved, giving the loft a thorough once-over. “I love what you’ve done with it. You must have worked a lot of overtime shifts to afford something like this.”

“It’s nothing special,” Brian shrugged, the touch of pride in his voice not lost on his temporary roommate.

“It is special. It’s yours.”

“Uhm . . . your place is nice, too.” Recoiling when Justin started to walk around and check things out, Brian wondered what the fuck was so great about this guy that made him say things like that.

“It’s small and cluttered with our stuff, but it’s my home . . .”

Brian turned to see him standing in front of the naked guy painting when his voice trailed off, his fingers tracing gingerly over the canvas.

“I like this. It’d be too much for most apartments, but it fits in here perfectly. It’s fun to look at, and buying it says a lot about you.”

Grinning behind Justin’s back, Brian figured he’d come pretty damn close to getting his question answered. He followed him up the steps, taking in his awed reaction when he laid eyes on the bed. “Wanna try it out?” he asked, his arms weaving their way tightly around Justin’s chest.

“Of course!” Justin twisted around in his arms, smiling up at him. “But . . . can we get something to eat first? And . . . about that shower . . .”

“That way,” Brian said, pointing him towards the bathroom. “I’ll call out.” Not sure whether or not he’d want some privacy after months of showering with other inmates, Brian took his time ordering Thai food, finding a few other ways to stall, too, after he’d hung up. When he finally made his way toward the bathroom, he paused against the door frame, admiring Justin’s pale body through the steamy glass. Hot as hell! he thought, Justin’s back toward him and his head tilted up, a stream of water dribbling down between his nipples.

Justin turned when Brian stripped and joined him. “That feels so good,” he moaned, Brian leisurely lathering his back and shoulders, both reveling in the fact that they needn’t rush things for the first time since they’d met.

Dropping to his knees behind him, Brian eased Justin’s legs apart, rubbing the soap on his ass and down his crack. He smiled as Justin reared back into his hand. When he gently fondled his balls, Justin bent forward and rested his forehead against the tile, Brian spreading his cheeks and licking long swipes around his hole. Gliding his hands up Justin’s legs and around his hips, he grasped his already hard cock and jerked it.

“Brian!” Justin shouted, but Brian was everywhere, his hands, fingers, and mouth making him crazy. He closed his eyes as Brian worked a finger inside, relaxing to feel every sensation. “I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he muttered, his hips starting to rock back and forth.

Eventually Brian took a deep breath and stood back up, flipping the cap on the shampoo bottle open. “Want me to wash your hair?” he asked softly.

Justin leaned backward against his torso. “Please,” he sighed, Brian’s soothing fingers massaging his scalp exactly what he needed. Allowed nothing but two-minute lukewarm showers during the previous six months, the blazing torrent raining down on them ran a close second. Gripping Brian’s cock, he felt it filling even more in his palms.

Brian fucked Justin’s hands, his lips and tongue all over his neck. “Fuck, I can’t wait,” he growled into his ear. Pushing him closer to the wall, he rolled a condom down his dripping cock and slid it along Justin’s crack. “Are you ready?” he whispered.

Separating his feet widely, Justin steadied Brian’s cock against his hole. “Take me.”

Pressing against the opening, Brian slowly inched inside, one arm around Justin’s upper body and the other bracing himself against the shower wall. “Feels incredible,” he mumbled, kissing his cheek when Justin entwined their fingers. Grabbing his cock again, he squeezed and tugged on it, fucking his hole with long, quick stabs. “So hard, Justin.”

“I’m gonna cum.” Justin’s body quivered, his dick drenching Brian’s hand.

Ramming his cock deep inside one last time, Brian froze, his cum shooting into the tip of the condom.

“You’re really good at that,” Justin said a few seconds later.

“I know.” Brian carefully pulled out, turning him around and hugging him tightly. Dragging him back under the spray, he removed the condom. “Food should be here soon,” he said, kissing his mouth and the side of his neck.

Justin molded himself into Brian’s body. “I’m so starving,” he grinned up at him.

----------

“Christ, Mikey! Can’t you mind your own business for once?!”

“I just asked how you like living with him; you don’t have to bite my head off.”

Brian trained his eagle-eyed gaze around Woody’s, trying to scope out a decent-looking prospect. “I like it just fine, okay?” he snapped at Michael, finally zeroing in on an unfamiliar face.

Gulping down the rest of his beer, Brian absently steered the trick toward the men’s room, his mind lost in thoughts of arriving home from work earlier that night and finding Justin in the kitchen - cooking for the third evening in a row. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the meals. He did, yet an inexplicable compulsion had led him past his houseguest and straight to the shower. Emerging in fresh clothes, he’d muttered, “I’m meeting Mikey. Later!” He doesn’t need a babysitter, he’d told himself on his way out, fairly certain Justin would use the time to continue to contact his clients in an attempt to restore his business.

Brian smiled, recalling how he’d eagerly opened his work planner the first night out of jail. They’d sat on the sofa with their takeout, Justin scanning its pages, deeply in thought.

“What if they don’t stay with me?” He’d suddenly laid his fork down, giving in to a brief moment of self-doubt. “I’ll have to start all over again.”

Brian had stroked his hair lightly. “You did it once. You can do it again.”

Watching his dick sink into the anonymous ass he’d picked up, Brian pictured Justin in the loft patiently working through his to-do list, the words of encouragement he’d offered just what he’d needed to hear.

----------

Chris Hobbs and his rowdy friends prowled around the downtown area of the city at dusk - drunk, but not enough. Craving more alcohol, he pointed to a bar on their right and headed in. A cocky smirk crept across his face when they followed, always being in control fueling his giant ego.

Staggering out an hour later, he walked confidently in front, bragging about the girls they’d bought drinks and made out with. He stopped short when he realized how far they’d strayed, the glitz and glitter of Liberty Avenue holding some sort of perverted fascination for him.

“You guys go on,” Chris heard himself say, other plans suddenly floating around in his inebriated haze. “I’ll . . . see you later.” Catching sight of the queers swarming between clubs as if they owned the world, a need to finish the job he’d started months before burned in his gut.

The first blow came when the cute young twink moved in to kiss him, his knuckles connecting with the side of his face in a sickening pop. How simple it had been to step onto the street Pittsburgh’s fags called home and win his attention, the unsuspecting horny kid winking and waving at him in a matter of seconds. Without hesitation, Chris had gravitated toward him and introduced himself, skimming his hand down his chest for effect. The ease with which he’d lured him into the nearest alley had him sprouting a cheshire-like grin, conveniently serving to mask how uncomfortable he’d felt at being pulled much too close on their jaunt.

Now he held him up with one hand after he’d stumbled in dizzying pain at the wholly unexpected right cross, beating him into a bloody mess with the other. Tragically, there’d never be enough rapid jabs in the universe to untangle Chris’s knotted emotions, seeing in the terrified blue eyes illusions of another fair-haired boy: one who’d jerked him off years earlier and incited his inner turmoil.

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Detective Horvath’s heart rate sped up when he heard the report of a beating on Liberty Avenue. He prayed it wasn’t someone he knew. Or someone Deb knew. Thinking of Michael dropping by to visit them just hours earlier, dressed up and elated that Brian had called and wanted to hang out, he couldn’t stand the idea of seeing him hurt . . . of seeing any of Deb’s boys hurt. More importantly, he knew she wouldn’t survive it. Rushing to the location of the incident, Carl’s racing heart broke in half as he pulled into the alley and witnessed a veritable madman leveling the final strike to his victim’s head, kicking him relentlessly when his body slumped to the ground. He radioed for backup and an ambulance then leapt out of the car and ran toward his perp.

His fists covered with the homo’s blood, Chris pictured himself contracting AIDS and dying a gruesome death, but at that exhilarating moment he felt it’d be worth it. Bolting to make an escape, the endorphin-induced high engulfing him swiftly faded, Carl’s uniformed officers screeching their squad car to the scene from the opposite end of the alley in record time and slamming him to the pavement before he knew what hit him.

“Cuff him and read him his rights,” Carl rasped. Approaching the much too-still form where it lay, he’d been on the force long enough to know it was too late. Checking for a pulse, he shook his head mournfully, another senseless hate crime he’d never understand.

Wresting the killer up to a standing position, Carl maneuvered him until he was bent over the hood of the black and white, not minding much as his forehead bounced with a thud. “You got a name?” He motioned for one of his cops to fish the wallet out of his pants, preferring to kneel at the dead boy’s side until the ambulance arrived.

“Here it is, Detective. Got his I.D. right here.”

----------

“Better now?” Mikey laughed when Brian strode out of the restroom and reclaimed the bar stool next to him.

“Much.” Brian gave him a peck on the forehead. “What a relief to get away from your incessant questions for ten minutes."

Happy to finally have Brian all to himself, Mikey ordered them two more beers. He promptly went into the plot of his favorite comic’s latest issue, looking forward to spending some time with his best friend. “Now what?!” he whined when Brian’s phone rang in his pocket.

Chapter 8