He Took My Prison Sentence, So Now My Secretary Is Mine novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: First Night

In Jud's bed the first slow fuck ends with Jud saying Yancey's first name; at three in the morning Jud wakes shouting it in terror.

Jud reached over and pressed a button, and the machine went dark.

He did not say one word about his father.

He stood, held out a hand, and Yancey took it.

They climbed the stairs together in the quiet, naked from the waist up, with the lamplight falling behind them.

The bedroom was at the end of the hall.

It was big and plain, with a wide bed made up in grey linen, a window onto a live oak, and no pictures on the walls.

It was the room of a man who did not let anyone in.

"Lie down," Jud said.

Yancey lay down.

The sheets were cool against his back, and they smelled of cedar and clean cotton.

Jud stood at the foot of the bed and finished undressing.

He did it slowly, and Yancey watched every second.

The shirt came off first, and under it the man was solid, broad through the chest, with a dark line of hair running down a flat belly.

A faint pale scar curved over his left ribs.

Yancey knew that scar.

He had seen it in a hospital corridor under a thin gown, long ago, while a nurse said something he couldn't hear.

He looked away.

"Don't," Jud said quietly.

"Don't what?"

"Don't go anywhere. Stay here with me."

Yancey looked back.

Jud stepped out of the trousers and came onto the bed on his knees.

He settled over Yancey, braced on his forearms, and the whole warm weight of him lowered until their chests touched.

"There," he said.

His mouth found Yancey's.

It was slow, and it went on, and Yancey felt himself unwinding under it.

He ran his hands down Jud's back, over the hard muscle and the long dip of the spine, and gripped his hips.

Jud rolled his pelvis once.

Their cocks slid together, and they both groaned.

"Lube is in the drawer," Jud said against his throat. "Left side."

Yancey reached over, found it, and put it in his hand.

Jud sat back on his heels.

He slicked two fingers and looked down at Yancey spread out on his bed.

"Knees up."

Yancey drew them up.

"Wider."

He opened.

A cold slick fingertip circled his hole, and he flinched, and Jud's other hand settled on his thigh.

"Easy. I've got you."

"I'm not scared."

"I know." Jud pressed in, slow. "I'm saying it anyway."

The finger slid inside.

Yancey's breath hitched.

It had been a long time since anyone had touched him there, and a longer time since anyone had done it gently.

Jud worked the finger in and out, patient, curling it, until Yancey's head turned on the pillow.

"More."

"Ask nicely," Jud said.

"More, please, sir."

"That's right."

A second finger joined the first.

Jud stretched him with his eyes on Yancey's face, reading every flicker, and when Yancey gasped he stopped, and when Yancey moaned he found the place again and pressed.

"Right there?"

"Right there. Oh, God, right there," Yancey said.

"I know."

Yancey's cock leaked on his stomach.

He did not care that he was begging.

"Jud. Please. I need you in me."

Jud went still.

"Say that again."

"I need you inside me," Yancey said.

"My name," Jud said.

"Jud."

Something shifted in the man's face, hard and sweet.

He withdrew his fingers, wiped his hand, and reached for himself.

He slicked his cock with a long, slow stroke that Yancey could not look away from.

Then he lowered himself over Yancey again.

He caught Yancey's wrists in one hand and pinned them against the pillow, above his head.

"Keep them there."

"Yes."

"I want your eyes on me the whole time," Jud said.

"All right," Yancey said.

"Say my name when it goes in."

"Jud."

The blunt head pressed against his hole.

Jud pushed.

He pushed slowly, an inch, a pause, an inch, and the stretch burned and ached and filled.

Yancey's fingers curled on the pillow.

"Breathe," Jud murmured. "That's it."

"You're big."

"You can take it," Jud said.

"I know I can."

"I know you can." Jud kissed him, deep. "You're doing so well."

He bottomed out.

For a moment neither of them moved.

They lay joined, with Jud's forehead against his, and Yancey could feel the man's heartbeat in his own chest.

The grey eyes were open, a hand's width away, and they were not cold.

They were not cold at all.

"Yancey," Jud said.

It was almost a whisper.

"Yes?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to say it."

Yancey's throat closed.

He tilted his head and kissed him, and rolled his hips, and that was all the permission Jud needed.

He began to move.

It was a long, slow rhythm, deep and unhurried, each stroke dragging over the place that made Yancey's vision go white.

The bed creaked.

The headboard knocked once against the wall and Jud caught it with his free hand, and said, "Sorry," and laughed.

Yancey laughed too, helplessly, breathless.

"Don't stop."

"Not planning to," Jud said.

"Harder."

"Not yet." Jud's hand tightened on his wrists. "You asked for me. You get all of me, at my pace."

"That's cruel."

"You'll live."

He changed the angle and Yancey cried out.

It was the best thing he had ever felt.

He lifted his legs around Jud's waist and locked his ankles, and drew him down, and Jud swore under his breath.

"Good," Jud said. "That's so good. Look at you taking me."

"Tell me again."

"You're good. You're so good, Yancey."

He said it again and again, low and unhurried, with each thrust.

Yancey had not known how hungry he was for it.

His eyes stung.

He was close, closer than he'd been in years, and he could not touch himself because his hands were pinned.

"Jud, I need to."

"Not yet," Jud said.

"Please," Yancey said.

"Look at me."

He looked.

"Now," Jud said, and let go of his wrists, and wrapped a hand around his cock.

Yancey came apart.

He came with Jud's name in his mouth, hard and long, spilling over his stomach and Jud's fist.

His body clenched around the man inside him.

Jud groaned, a wrecked sound, and drove deep once, twice, and held.

He came with his face buried in Yancey's neck.

He shook the whole way through it.

For a long time they lay there, sweating and slack.

Jud eventually rolled off him and got a damp cloth from the bathroom, and cleaned them both without a word.

He pulled the sheet up.

He lay on his back with his arm under his head, and the room was dim and quiet.

"You can stay," he said to the ceiling.

"Is that an order?"

"It's an invitation," Jud said.

"I'll stay."

Neither of them said anything else.

Yancey fell asleep with his hand a few inches from Jud's, on the sheet.

He woke in the dark to a sound he did not know.

It was a man shouting.

Jud was sitting bolt upright in the bed, soaked in sweat, his eyes wide and blind.

"Yancey!" he shouted. "Yancey, stop! Stop!"

Yancey grabbed his arm.

"Jud. Jud, hey. It's me."

"Stop the truck," Jud said.

"There's no truck. You're at home. Look at me."

Jud turned his head.

For a moment he did not see anything.

Then the grey eyes focused, and found Yancey, and filled with something raw that was gone almost before it landed.

"Crenshaw," he said, hoarse.

Yancey held on.

The man's whole body was shaking.

His heart was hammering against Yancey's palm, and Yancey did not let go, though he knew he should.

He knew exactly what Jud had been dreaming about.

He knew whose name it was, shouted like that.

It proved the man hated him.

That was the only thing it could prove.

"Go to sleep," Jud said, and lay down with his back to him.

Yancey lay awake until the window turned grey.

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