The bottle crumpled in his hand.

Cullen looked down at it with his fingers crushing all parts of the bottle as water dripped from his fingers onto the floor. The fridge door was still open behind him.

He had been thinking about it since day one of this disaster. He’s been trying to determine where the problem originated. Running the memory back, frame by frame, the way he did with everything. He remembered Ruaan pouring the drink, setting it down in front of him with that perfect neutral expression while he took off his shirt.

He knew. He suddenly knew.

He had known since the second trip to the bathroom on the first day and he had been too busy dealing with the consequences to act on it. Ruaan was the one responsible for what happened to him.

He squeezed what was left of the bottle until the cap popped off.

"Ruaan," he said.

The name came out low like he was fond of it. He let out a short and sharp laugh, and the laugh turned into a wince because laughing was also currently dangerous.

’That little brat,’ he thought. ’He did that because he didn’t want me to touch him.’

He laughed again anyway.

Most people in Blackmere feared him. They moved and ran away when he walked into rooms. They gave him things before he asked. Nobody had ever looked him in the eye and put something in his drink before not even before he got into jail.

He was furious.

He was also, against his better judgment, entertained.

He walked toward the door. He was thinking of going to see Ruaan. He’s not seen him for more than three days already and somehow, he felt the need to see him as soon as possible.

His stomach grumbled immediately.

He stood still for a moment and placed his hand on the wall. He was having a silent negotiation with his own body.

His body won after more grumbling and he went back to his bed.

.

.

Finn came in quietly.

That’s the first thing Cullen had noticed the first time he met with Finn months ago. Everything about him was so quiet maybe he was an assassin outside prison. Finn had a way of existing in a room without announcing himself, folding himself into whatever space was available and making himself useful before anyone asked. Maybe he was like that, just for Cullen.

He was carrying freshly washed sheets, folded carefully like he had done it many times.

He saw Cullen on the bed and crossed the room immediately, kneeling beside him with that same automatic attention.

"Are you hungry? I can go to the cafeteria and get you something to eat if you want..."

"I’m not eating anything. I’m not hungry."

"You haven’t eaten since yesterday." Finn stood and moved to the wardrobe, pulling it open. "Let me at least change your sheets. Don’t mind that I’m late. I ran into that annoying 2525 in the laundry room and—"

Cullen’s hand shot out.

He grabbed Finn from behind and Finn dropped the sheets immediately, flinching hard.

"What?! Did you say 2525?" Cullen’s voice was very even and specific. "He was in the laundry room? Doing what? Was he alone?"

Finn turned around slowly.

Something moved across his face that Cullen wasn’t paying attention to because he was waiting for the answer.

"Why," Finn said quietly, "do you keep asking about him?"

"I asked you a question—"

"You’ve been sick for three days. Three damn days." Finn’s voice stayed low but something underneath it had an edge now. Maybe anger. "I’ve been here. Every day. Bringing you water, changing your sheets, sitting outside your door at night." He looked at Cullen directly. "And every time you were half asleep you kept saying his name. Not mine. His. He’s been here for one week, Cullen. One fucking week."

"I asked you a damn question," Cullen said. "Why was he there?"

"I don’t know." Finn stepped back. "And even if I did." He picked up the dropped sheets from the floor. "I wouldn’t tell you."

He pushed the door open and burst out.

The door didn’t slam. Just a quiet click and it opened again.

The other two came in, stepping around the space where Finn had been standing. They were looking rough with their shirts wide open and bare chests exposed.

One of them looked at the door. "Why is your little fuck toy angry?"

Cullen sat back on the bed. "Tell me what 2525 has been doing."

They looked at each other, wondering what was going on. Cullen was never the kind to ask about someone no matter how interested he was in the person. Of course, they had the information and were happy to share it.

"You mean the new one? The one you haven’t touched yet?"

The other one grinned. "He’s been busy. I heard he joined the electrical skills day. He’s been spending time with some guy with broken glasses who carries a LEGO box everywhere."

"People are already wondering if something was happening between them."

"There’s also a rumour that someone left their mark on his bed. Cummed on his shirt."

Cullen looked up, a frown building on his face.

"Nobody knows who did it. It could be his roommate and it could be anyone." A pause. "There’s even talk that one of the officers might be interested in him."

The room went quiet for a moment and Cullen stood up.

"I need to see him."

Both of them moved immediately. One of them put a hand out. "Boss. You’ve been to the bathroom eleven times today. If you walk too far—"

"I can hold it."

"Last time you said that, you shut yourself and..."

"I can hold it." He was already moving. "Let’s go."

.

.

Cell 109 was the way it always was.

Small, filled with grey. The four beds were arranged the way beds got arranged when nobody had a choice about it.

Ruaan was sitting on his bed when they arrived. He looked up when the door opened and Cullen watched his face do that thing it always did... his chin came up slightly and his eyes settled as he adjusted his position on the bed.

Cullen nodded at Yoon and Petre and Luca.

The top two didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to, they just hung themselves on the gate like statues. All three cellmates stood up and left without a word and the gate swung behind them.

Ruaan stood up.

"Cullen," he said.

Cullen spread his arms wide. "Look at you." He walked forward slowly. "I’ve missed you so damn much. It’s been ages."

"It really has been a while," Ruaan said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "How are you feeling? You look better—"

Cullen stopped walking.

He could feel the early warning signs of his stomach considering its options and he needed not to be mid-movement when that happened.

"Come here," he said.

Ruaan didn’t move. He wouldn’t dare since he had no idea what Cullen wanted to do to him.

Cullen looked at the top two. They crossed the cell in three steps and grabbed Ruaan by both arms and pulled him forward and Ruaan fought it the whole way, twisting and pulling, which achieved nothing except bringing him to a stop directly in front of Cullen.

Cullen took his face in both hands and looked at him.

"What have you been up to," he said. "I hear you’ve been busy. Making friends and at the same time, getting ’popular.’"

Ruaan shook his head slightly in Cullen’s grip.

Cullen leaned in. "The next game is in three days." His voice dropped. "I don’t care where you place. Bottom ten, top three, I don’t care." His hand slid from Ruaan’s face to his waist, pulling him in. "I’m claiming you. After that game. Whoever you are in the hierarchy doesn’t matter to me."

His hand moved lower and found what it was looking for. He grabbed without hesitation.

Ruaan made a sound that was not the sound Cullen had been hoping for... it was a sharp wince, and his whole body went rigid.

Cullen tilted his head.

Interesting.

"I’ll make sure this hurts when I’m done with it," he said quietly, right against Ruaan’s ear. "Once it’s over, you’ll spread your legs and get yourself ready for me, sweetheart."

He kissed his forehead and stepped back.

He walked to the door at a pace that was becoming increasingly urgent.

The top two followed and the gate closed. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

.

.

Ruaan sat down on his bed.

He sat there for a moment and exhaled deeply.

Then he let out a long and deep groan into his own hands.

"Why," he said to his mattress, "did he grab my ass today of all the days in the calendar year? They still hurt."

His entire lower half had opinions about being grabbed and none of them was positive.

He flopped backwards and stared at the ceiling.

He had three days until the next game and he was absolutely not ready.