Fighting For Prison Love

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Once he began to throb, Derek gently palmed his testicles in his large hand, and began to roll them lightly between his fingers.

Derek leaned against the metal railing as his grey eyes passed over the crowded cafeteria. With the entire population wearing the same uniform he had to focus on faces in order to differentiate each inmate.

His gaze paused once it reached a particular table, and a small smile tilted his lips. It was the color of his hair that made him easy to spot. It looked like strands of wheat atop his beautiful head.

For several minutes he watched him covertly from where he stood. The way that he tilted his head when he spoke. The mannerisms of his fingers when he emphasized things.

There wasn't a single thing that Kit Clearwater did that Derek didn't find attractive.

He was absolutely lovely in every single way, and Derek's grey eyes devoured him with anticipation, and hunger.

All that he had to do was walk across the length of the cafeteria, and his lips could be tasting the sweet spot just below his ear. The spot that made him moan whenever Derek's tongue passed over it. Just a few steps, and he could be sampling perfection.

Kit had yet to notice his presence. He was in animated discussion with the man who sat across from him, and with a slight frown Derek tried to recall his name. Wracking his mind, it finally came to him, and he nodded to himself with recollection.

Johnathan Creed. He was serving a life sentence without possibility for parole for fatally strangling his grandfather.

He had committed the crime in the hopes of securing his inheritance early. Unfortunately for him, he had done nothing to secure a decent alibi, and witnesses claiming to have seen him dragging the body from the house to the trunk of his car had sealed his fate.

Derek's frown deepened. This was not suitable companionship for his beautiful Kit. He made a mental note to discuss it with him at a later date. Someone who possessed the kind of gentle soul that Kit had could do better than the likes of Johnathan Creed.

Derek protected him as much as he possibly could, but he couldn't be with him every minute. At some point when his back was turned, someone would begin to covet what belonged to him.

It would break him in half if something were to happen to his sweet, little boy, so Derek was dead set on doing everything within his power to make sure that Kit was safe. It seemed like an almost impossible mission in a place like this. Danger, and evil lurked in every available corner.

When Kit finally turned his head, and caught Derek's intent gaze upon him, he paused before his lips lifted in a shy smile of greeting. His large, blue eyes filled with warmth, and his teeth clamped down on his bottom lip while his cheeks bloomed with color.

Derek knew that it was the memory of their last interlude that brought the endearing blush to the young boy's cheeks. He had done things to him that went beyond the realms of decency, and the memory alone was enough to make him quickly harden where he stood.

Again the desire to close the distance between them arose, and Derek used everything within him to tamp down the urge. This was not the time, or the place. He would simply have to wait.

***

"It's those fucking birds. They wake you up at an ungodly hour, and they never stop chirping until you want to pull your hair out. Chirp chirp chirp. From the time the sun comes up until role call. It's enough to make you want to drown yourself in the toilet."

Kit chuckled lightly after the man's outburst. It was the same one he had heard for nearly three days straight, and he could almost recite word for word what he would say next.

"It's those damn guard towers. They make their nests in every little nook and cranny, and no one does anything to shoo them out of there. So, there's more of them every year, and we're forced to just listen to it every day of our fucking lives!"

Slamming his hand down on the table in a fit of temper, Creed went on. "You know, I have a right mind to build a sling shot in the arts, and crafts room. A couple rubber bands, and a few pencils, and those stupid birds would be history!"

Kit lifted his hand to disguise his smile before he nodded. He could also hear the birds in the morning, but it didn't have quite the same impact on him.

He thought the sound was refreshing. For just those few moments when he awoke, he could almost pretend that he still had his freedom. That he was home on his family's farm instead of in a maximum security prison.

"That's an interesting idea, John," Kit said encouragingly. "Just don't get caught with the pencils in your cell. If the guards find them they'll think you're out to hurt someone, and then it's the tank."

Creed snorted derisively. "The tank would be a helluva sweet vacation from those damn birds. Might not be so bad," he said as he winded down. "Not so bad at all."

Lifting two fingers, Kit rubbed his twitching nose. He didn't want to picture John hurting the poor, defenseless birds. The thought made him sad even though he knew that the man would never go through with it.

The tank was a silent, and lonely place. There wasn't an inmate that he knew of who would entertain the idea willingly. If you spent too much time in there it could slowly drive you insane.

"How is your lunch?" Kit asked to distract him.

He had given John the cue that he needed, and he began complaining anew.

Kit half heartedly listened to his rant, and then his entire frame stilled. It was as if all of his senses became finely attuned, and he knew that Derek was watching him.

He could feel his smoldering grey eyes even before he turned his head, and caught them upon him. His insides came alive as their eyes met, and it felt like a marching band was playing a rhythm inside of his chest. God, how he loved the man.

He wanted to get up from the table, and go to him. Feel the safety of his strong arms curling around his body. It always made him forget, in those brief moments, about who he was, and what his life had become.

Derek was his rock. He was the steady force that kept him going. Kit wanted to burrow into his wide chest, and stay there for days.

"They cover everything with this mucus. How can they even call this gravy? I've shot things out of my rear end that looked more appetizing." John muttered petulantly.

"Sorry, John," Kit responded absently.

He wasn't listening anymore. Everything in his world had stopped moving. The collective noise of the entire cafeteria fell away from him until it was just the two of them.

They couldn't seem to look away from one another, and Kit's breath grew shallow when he spotted the heat that lurked in the depths of Derek's fascinating grey eyes. He was claiming him with that intense look of hunger, and something in Kit's chest fluttered in response.

Suddenly it became too difficult for him to continue the contact. He wanted so very badly to go to him, and knowing that he could not was like an axe buried in the center of his rib cage. He didn't want Derek to see how upset he felt, and so he quickly lowered his gaze before turning away.

The depth of his feeling completely overwhelmed him. It was very new, and powerful, unlike anything he had ever experienced. He had never felt this kind of all consuming love before, and he wasn't quite sure how to behave.

He just wished that he had some time to himself to figure it all out because at this very moment he felt like his emotions were a mess.

John took no notice of his sudden shift in mood, and continued to ramble on incessantly.

"It makes you kind of itchy. I'm not sure if it's the material, or the soap they use, but I don't really like it. I feel like I'm always scratching myself raw. Maybe it's lice. Do you think it could be lice?"

Kit's brows lifted, and then he forced a smile. "John, could you do me a favor?"

"I read somewhere that places like this get lice all of the time. In the old days they just used to let them eat you alive, and they didn't do a damn thing about it."

Clutching onto the tops of his own thighs beneath the table, Kit ran his palms up and down the length of them to steady his nerves. "John, I need you to hit me."

"I hope they would do something about it nowadays. It's not like we're living in the dark ages anymore. That would be barbaric." John suddenly paused, and then his nose scrunched with distaste. "Hit you? Why would I hit you?"

Kit's tongue swiped along his bottom lip before he let out a slow breath. "I'll explain later. I just need you to do it. Hit me. In the face. Do it hard."

John's dark eyes rounded as if he had just been told that aliens would soon be arriving to probe him. "Fuck that," he spat. "They'll put me in the tank."

Without giving it much thought, Kit lifted his meatloaf from his tray, and launched it into the air. The limp slab of meat landed against John's eyebrow before falling to land on the edge of his tray. The trail of gravy it left in it's wake almost made Kit smile.

John was not similarly amused. Instead of lunging towards him like Kit expected, John lifted his arm to wipe away the brown sludge from his face before looking at him incredulously. "What the fuck is the matter with you?" he growled.

Kit's dinner roll bounced off of his forehead in response. When John continued to peer up at him as if he had lost his mind, Kit reached for a handful of peas.

"Don't you throw that at me," John warned as he eyed Kit's fingers.

Kit hesitated as he met John's wary gaze. Letting out a swift breath, he flicked his wrist, and allowed the handful of green ammunition to pelt John's surprised face.

It was enough. Jerking to his feet, John pulled his arm back, and punched Kit square in the mouth. The force of it threw Kit from the bench, and he landed with a hard thud against the concrete floor. The calamity of voices in the lunch room paused, and then a soft wave of laughter could be heard.

Rolling to his back, Kit lifted a hand to the side of his mouth, and stared at the blood that appeared on his fingertips after he pulled them back to look at them. His fascination swiftly drew to an end when he was roughly hauled to his feet.

His upper arm was held in a vice grip as officer Murphy glared down at him. "This is the third time this week, Clearwater. I'm starting to think you like it in the tank."

Kit froze as he stared up at the blonde giant. His green eyes were malevolent as they passed over him.

Turning his head, Kit's eyes widened in surprise to see that officer Lambert already had John restrained. His torso was pressed to the cafeteria table, and his arm had been pulled tightly against his back to keep him immobile.

While Kit watched, Lambert yanked upwards on the poor man's arm until he cried out in pain. Kit winced sympathetically as he observed the harsh display of control. He was suddenly very grateful that Murphy had been the first guard to reach him.

Without another word he was being unceremoniously dragged towards the door. As they passed through it, Murphy released him with a shove that made his steps falter. He was quickly prodded with another rough shove as they continued to walk.

"You know the way, Clearwater. Lets go," Murphy snapped.

He wasn't wrong. Hurrying down the length of the corridor, Kit dipped to the right when they reached the end. Another short hallway led to a staircase, and then he was shuffling his lithe frame down the steps before pausing in front of a large steel door.

When Murphy reached him at the bottom of the landing, he was absentmindedly nudged aside so that the guard could unlock it. When the door opened, Murphy grasped onto his arm to lead him through.

"You must really like it down here, kid," Murphy mused. "Have you been threatened by someone? That's usually the reason why men attempt to hide here."

Shaking his head, Kit kept silent. He was suddenly filled with turmoil as he questioned the wisdom of his actions. He was no longer sure that he had made the right decision, and his teeth gnawed on his lower lip in a nervous gesture as he contemplated what lay in store for him because of it.

"We'll put you in room four," Murphy informed him. "The faucet leaks. The dripping will keep you company."

Kit knew that he was being taunted, but he was too distracted to reply. When Murphy unlocked the door, he casually walked through it with his head hung low, and paused when he reached the center of the room.

The only thing that was inside of it was a toilet, a sink, and a small bed that was pushed up against one of the far walls.

There wasn't even a window to let in any light. The room was achingly familiar. He had spent more than a dozen nights inside of it this month alone. It was like his home away from home.

Murphy grinned as he stood on the threshold. "Now wouldn't it be the damnedest thing if that light bulb happened to burn out?" he jeered.

Lifting his night stick from his belt, he pointed at it. "You behave yourself from now on, or the next time I put you in here it will be gone. Understand me?"

Kit nodded obediently. He felt like a reticent child. That was how most people treated him. He was twenty years old, but he might as well have been twelve.

No one treated him like he was an adult. He would resent the fact, but deep down he knew it was one of the reasons that he hadn't had his skull smashed in yet. It was beneath some men to pick on someone that they perceived to be a child.

Slipping the baton back into his belt, Murphy sighed. "I'll bring down your dinner in a few hours. Get comfortable. You're going to be here for a while."

Kit nodded again in understanding, and waited for Murphy to close the door. When the lock clicked soundly into place after his departure, Kit released the breath he had been holding.

His blue eyes darted to the bed, and he winced. It looked just as ragtag, and filthy as the last time he had seen it. God knew what was living inside of it.

He wanted to avoid discovering the answer for as long as he possibly could, and stepped over to the wall until his back was pressed against it.

Inching his feet out in front of him, he slowly sunk down until his knees pressed into his chest, and his butt was placed firmly on the cement floor.

Derek was going to be furious. He knew that on a subconscious level. Kit didn't have the nerve to look at his face after what he had done. He didn't have to. Derek had specifically asked him not to do this anymore, and Kit had begrudgingly agreed.

He wasn't entirely sure why he had decided to break his promise. All that he knew was that his insides hurt in a way that he couldn't bear, and this was where he needed to be.

***

Nearly an hour passed while Kit's nervousness increased. When the sound of the lock turning in place finally reached his ears, his entire body tensed with fear, and he clutched his knees in a tighter embrace.

The heavy, steel door swung back on it's hinges, and Kit's large, blue eyes widened in surprise as officer Lambert stepped into view.

He cut an imposing figure in his dark uniform. He was a large man in both height, and brawn, and his cold eyes were filled with disdain as they fell upon Kit's folded figure.

"You enjoying yourself in there?" he bit out in a deceptively soft tone.

Kit was too terrified to respond. His slight frame trembled as he fought the desire to speak. He knew that anything that he said to this man would only make things worse for him.

Officer Lambert took a step forward before pulling his baton from his belt. Clutching it in his fist, he tapped it against the side of his thigh as he gazed down at Kit impassively.

"Did you know that I just spent the better part of the past half hour beating the shit out of Creed? I'm pretty sure that I cracked his ribs. I couldn't stop kicking him when he fell to the floor."

"Why did you do that?" Kit gasped.

Lambert smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "He's a worthless piece of shit, and I needed to let off some steam."

Kit swallowed with difficulty as he gazed up at the older man. Then his eyes dropped to the baton that he held in his hand. "Are you going to hurt me?" he whispered nervously.

Lifting a dark brow, Lambert pursed his lips thoughtfully. After a moment, he turned to quietly close the heavy steel door so that they were alone in the small room. The action caused Kit's heart to fly into his throat. When Lambert turned back to face him his face had hardened significantly.

"Yes, I am," he said simply. "Stand up."

When Kit didn't immediately obey his command, and sat frozen in place, Lambert swiped his boot out to kick one of his feet out from beneath him. "I said get up!" he barked.

Panicking, Kit quickly scrambled to his feet until he was cowering against the wall. His blue eyes were filled with apprehension, and his breath began leaving him in halting little bursts.

"Go stand over beside the bed," Lambert directed him with the baton. When Kit didn't move fast enough for his liking, his lips noticeably tightened. "Now!" he snapped.

Kit's entire frame jerked at the volume that he used. Flinching in response, he swiftly stepped away from the wall until he was standing before the bed.

When Lambert closed the distance between them so that he was standing directly behind him, Kit's eyes closed on a grimace. He could feel the officer's hot breath cascading down the back of his neck.

"What did I tell you I would do if you picked another fight in the cafeteria?" he asked tightly.

Kit's eyes opened, and darted around as he fought to remember the exact words. "You said that I would live to regret it," he replied meekly.

"What else?" Lambert growled.

Kit's mouth trembled. "You said that if I did it again that you would punish me."

"That's right," Lambert snapped. "You didn't listen to me, and here we are. Drop your pants," he ordered.

Kit's blue eyes rounded at the request. He attempted to turn so that he could look at the officer incredulously, but the larger man's hand quickly gripped onto his shoulder to hold him in place.

"Don't look at me," Lambert barked. "Do what you're told, and pull your pants down."

A shiver of terror crawled up Kit's spine, but he swiftly reached for the waistband of his prison issued pants, and began pulling them over his hips, and down his legs. When they reached his knees, he straightened once more, and took a deep breath.

"Good," Lambert praised him. Pressing the tip of the baton into is shoulder blade, he pushed it into his skin. "Now bend over," he demanded.

Cringing at the harsh tone of his voice, Kit slowly bent in half until his palms were pressed into the dingy mattress in front of him. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he clamped down on it to still it's tremble.

The cool, rubber tip of the baton trailed down his spine in a slow progression until it reached the top of his buttocks, and then paused before following the crevice between his cheeks. Sucking in a sharp breath, Kit tensed at the sensation.

"Should I fuck you with this?" Lambert inquired darkly. "I bet your behavior would become remarkably improved if I did."

Kit mewled in distress at the suggestion. He wanted Derek. His love would never speak to him in such a way. He was nothing like the heartless monster that stood at his back.

"Please don't," Kit stuttered helplessly. "I won't do it again. I promise."

The baton was lazily traversing the line of his ass, following it from his tail bone to the vulnerable spot of his perineum, and back up again. His plea seemed to do little to lighten the officer's disposition.

"Something tells me that you're lying to me," he responded hoarsely. "I don't believe you."

"I swear," Kit cried. "I won't fight in the cafeteria anymore." His arms began to shake beneath him.

"That's good to hear," Lambert replied dispassionately. "What about the day room, or the yard, or your fucking cell?" he asked harshly.

Nudging him with the baton, he roughly poked him in his left cheek.

"I won't fight anywhere," Kit choked out. "I'll behave. Please don't put that inside of me," he begged.

The rubber tip was sliding from one cheek to the other now, and Kit's legs stiffened every single time that it passed across the opening to his body.

A long drawn out sigh escaped Lambert's throat, and then the motion ceased. "Fine," he relented in aggravation.

The baton landed on the mattress beside Kit's right hand, and he gazed down at it in stunned amazement as relief flooded through his slight frame. It was short lived.

With a resounding crack the officer's large palm connected with his bottom. The slap was so unexpected that Kit cried out with a mixture of surprise, and pain.

He had barely recovered from the onslaught of the attack when his other cheek was treated to a similar slap.

Tensing his back, Kit's mouth dropped open in agony. The officer hit him again, and again until his bottom felt like it was on fire. He switched from one cheek to the other on each downward stroke, and after half a dozen on each side, Kit let out a sob.

"Stop!" he whimpered.

"You deserve this!" Lambert snarled. "Hell, you deserve more than this."

Lifting his hand he treated his reddened bottom to another swift blow. When Kit made an attempt to lean forward to escape his hand, the officer grasped onto the back of his shirt to pull him back into place.

"Hold still, brat," he snapped in anger.

Another agonized sob escaped Kit's mouth, and then he began to cry in earnest. His frame shook as tears streaked down the sides of his face. His chin dropped to his chest, and he began to snivel as he wept.

With a sound of disgust, Lambert hauled him to his feet by the back of his uniform. Turning Kit to face him, he clasped onto the sides of the young boy's face. A large thumb brushed against his chin to wipe away the blood that remained there, and then he sighed.

"Stop crying, you fucking idiot."

Kit's face was still contorted with pain, and fear, but it cleared once he lifted his watery blue eyes to meet the furious grey eyes of his tormentor.

"I'm sorry, Derek!" he sobbed again. "Don't be mad at me!"

Derek Lambert had never been so frustrated in his entire life. His large frame was still filled with fury, and he had to fight the desire to drop to the bed, and take him over his knee again.

"You promised me you wouldn't intentionally get into any trouble again. Do you have any idea what I went through when I saw him hit you like that? I wanted to fucking kill him!"

His fingers tightened significantly where they held his head, and Kit winced at the pressure.

"I missed you," Kit moaned sorrowfully.

Derek's mouth opened to rebuke the statement, but all that left his throat was a sharp breath. Clucking his tongue with censure, he scowled at Kit with disapproval.

Unsure what to do with his residual anger, he followed his instincts, and leaned in to press his hard mouth to the young boy's lips before emitting a groan. When he pulled back his grey eyes were heated.

"I still want to kick your ass," he snapped. "What you did was unforgivable. How am I supposed to trust you if give me your word about something, and then break it without a moment's hesitation?"

Kit bit his lip guiltily as his eyes darted away. Peering downward to avoid his recriminating gaze, he lifted his fingers until he was holding onto Derek's arms.

"I couldn't help it," he said softly. His mournful blue eyes returned to storm clouds of grey as a breath shuddered out of him. "I love you," he whispered.

Derek couldn't argue with that logic, and his eyes immediately softened as his hold on Kit eased. "I love you too, you idiot," he whispered back. "Why do you think I'm so angry every time that you do something stupid that ends up getting you hurt?"

Pulling Kit towards him, he wrapped his arms around his back before dropping his chin to the top of his head. "It was a moronic stunt that you pulled. What were you thinking?" he groused.

"I was thinking of this," Kit admitted quietly. "I was thinking of you."

A small smile tilted Derek's lips, and then his fingers trailed lower until he was gripping one side of Kit's abused backside in his palm. The contact made Kit wince in response.

"Well, the next time you get another brilliant idea that puts you down here, just remember this." Squeezing the hot flesh, a chuckle escaped him after Kit yelped with discomfort.

"You weren't really going to fuck me with that thing, were you?" Kit wondered as he peered over at the baton that was still lying upon the bed.

Another chuckle escaped Derek, and then he shook his dark head. "No. That would be a hard standard to live up to. I don't think I could handle the pressure."

Kit pressed his lips together to contain his giggle, and then he reached his arms up to wrap them around Derek's neck.

"I really did miss you," he said solemnly before a frown flitted across his features. "I hate not being able to touch you when I want to."

Derek groaned in response as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. "It's fucking torture," he agreed. "I obsess about doing things to you the entire time that I'm working. It makes it very difficult to concentrate."

Kit's brows lifted with interest. "What kinds of things?" he wondered.

"Dirty things," Derek answered with a lecherous grin. "Things I could get fired for doing."

"Hasn't stopped you so far," Kit reminded him with a grin of his own.

Derek lifted a brow. "Good point."

Reaching down, Derek swiftly clasped an arm around his thighs, and lifted Kit's feet from the floor as he turned towards the bed. In one swift motion, he swiped the baton from the top of it before dropping him down onto the mattress.

Kneeling above him, he made quick work of removing his pants from the bottom of his legs, and then he tossed them aside before parting his thighs.

When he was spread open beneath him, Derek reached for the buttons of his shirt, and began opening them. The material parted quickly beneath his large, deft fingers. and then he was dragging it down his arms in order to dispose of it.

His molten grey eyes passed over Kit's swollen appendage hungrily, and then he gazed into pools of blue. "I'm going to suck you off, and then I'm going to fuck the shit out of you," he announced heatedly.

Kit's burnished bronze head pressed back into the mattress as a low moan erupted from his lips. His entire body writhed in anticipation while Derek slowly removed his belt.

Once it was off, he let it slip from his fingers after lowering it to the floor. Looming above Kit, he gazed down into his heavily slitted gaze before passing his tongue along his lower lip.

"This doesn't mean that I'm not mad at you anymore," he stated thickly. "You're not off the hook quite that easily. I just need to taste you, and bury myself inside of you so that I can feel sane again."

Kit nodded in understanding, and then lifted his fingers to trail them through Derek's dark hair. All thoughts of formulating any kind of response drifted away the moment that Derek's soft lips pressed against the center of his chest.

He followed a trail down the center of Kit's torso, kissing, and licking at different intervals. When his lips reached his navel where the tip of his eager cock head rested, Derek promptly scooped it into his mouth, and held it between his lips as he lifted the shaft vertically.

Once it was pointing towards the ceiling, his smoldering grey gaze flicked upwards momentarily, and then his head descended to take every thick inch inside of the hot cavern of his mouth.

Closing his eyes, a harsh moan barreled from his throat at the taste of it. His tongue swirled over the length appreciatively, and then his cheeks grasped onto it as he began to suck.

Kit's spine arced away from the mattress at the sensation. Digging his fingers into Derek's dark, brown locks, he tugged on them urgently while pleasure filled moans fell from his lips.

The older man knew just how to work his length. Slow and persistently until his entire body felt as tight as a bow, and his cock had stiffened into solid marble.

Once he began to throb, Derek gently palmed his testicles in his large hand, and began to roll them lightly between his fingers.

His tongue began a rhythmic thrusting against the underside of his shaft, and his pace quickened aggressively.

Relaxing the hollows of his throat, Derek eagerly rammed his swollen flesh into it's tight confines. The sensitive cock head filled him again, and again, and he didn't slow down for even a moment while he moaned on it in euphoria.

It all became too much for Kit to withstand. Thrusting his hips into the air in order to plunge as deep into Derek's mouth as he could get, a rough cry exploded from Kit's lips as he began to ejaculate hot spurts of cum down his throat.

The older man took it all without showing signs of ending. He continued to suck reverently while Kit rode the aftershocks. Allowing his eyes to drift closed, he hummed mindlessly as Derek slowed the motions of his descending head. It was like watching his favorite wind up toy gradually running out of vigor.

Once he was completely soft again, Derek allowed his cock to slip from his mouth before peering up at him with the darkest gaze Kit had ever seen. The intense look of promise in those grey depths made Kit gasp as he slowly began crawling up the bed until he was looming above him.

Gripping him beneath his head by a fistful of his light hair, Derek lifted him to meet his urgent mouth. He pried his lips open wide, and buried his tongue deep as a harsh breath seethed out of him. Kit moaned again as he tasted himself on the older man.

His large frame lowered until Kit could feel his weight pressing into him, and then his fingers were between them so that he could free himself from the confines of his pants.

Grasping his stiff cock in his hand, he probed between Kit's soft cheeks until his knob was pressing against the coveted opening. When he was positioned, his large fingers released his hold on the young boy's hair to trail over his throat until his thumb was pressed just below his chin.

Lifting his mouth, Derek peered into his beautiful blue eyes with an expression that was purely predatory.

His jaw noticeably tightened, and his hips flexed to nudge his puckered hole wider. "Do you want it?" he growled.

Kit's tongue shot out to swipe along his lower lip as he fought for breath. He felt like he was being devoured by Derek's possessive grey gaze.

A grimace of pleasure contorted his features while Derek worked his thick head inside of him, and then he nodded emphatically.

"I want it," Kit gasped. "Fuck me."

Slipping his large hand beneath one arm, Derek curled it around his shoulder in order to brace himself, and then he lunged. The force that he used rammed the entire length of his shaft deep into the young boy's ass.

Kit's mouth opened wide at the intensity of it, and Derek lowered his head to take advantage. Filling the space with his tongue, a thick grunt escaped him as he surged forward again.

"This is mine," he uttered savagely against his lips. "It belongs to me."

Kit nodded again mindlessly, and dug his fingers into Derek's back while he filled him again. An anguished cry escaped Kit's throat at the feel of his teeth sinking into his neck, and then he lifted his legs to wrap them around Derek's hard frame as he started to really move.

His cock savagely slammed into his slick canal in a hard rhythm that Kit could feel pounding against his stomach. The feeling was so intense that warm wetness began trickling from the sides of his eyes.

He was overwhelmed by the enormity of so many sensations at once. In his mind, in his heart, and in the lower recesses that were being thoroughly plundered by Derek's raging hard cock.

He couldn't contain it all, and a soft sob fell from his lips while he gripped onto Derek harder. It was followed by the older man's deep throated groan that reverberated through his rib cage.

With several more hard thrusts of his hips, his cock twitched, and lifted where it was lodged deep inside of Kit's hole.

Warm bursts of semen began flooding from his cock head while Derek ejaculated long, and hard. Once he had finished, he clasped onto the top of Kit's head with one hand, and promptly collapsed on top of him.

Kit's breath was shuddering out of him slowly when Derek finally managed to lift his head. With a slight frown, he released his hold on him in order to brush the wetness from beneath his eyes.

"Why do you always cry when I fuck you?" he wondered. "Am I hurting you that badly?"

Kit scowled, and shook his head. "Just overwhelmed," he breathed in explanation.

Derek's brows lifted, and then he frowned again. "Is it strange that I like it?"

Kit couldn't help the smirk that tilted his mouth. "You like it when I cry?" he asked in surprise.

Derek nodded solemnly. "That's kind of twisted. Isn't it?"

"A little," Kit admitted. "Maybe you like the idea that you're hurting me with it."

Derek's grey eyes widened at that disclosure, and then he shook his head. "I really don't like the idea of other people hurting you. You have to stop doing this, or someone will eventually, and it won't just be a punch to the mouth. You could be stabbed, or worse."

When Kit only gazed at him impassively, Derek reached up to clutch his chin in his hand.

"I'm serious. It's hard enough ensuring that you're safe without having to worry that some lunatic is out for your blood because you antagonized them. This isn't the schoolyard, Kit. These fuckers are hardened criminals. One of them is going to kill you someday if you don't stop."

"It's the only way I ever get to see you," Kit gasped in pain.

His response only made Derek's expression darken. "If you do it again, I won't come," he vowed. "That will be your punishment. I'll stay away, and you can sit down here alone."

Kit bit down on his lip in a desperate attempt to keep his tears at bay. His insides felt like torn mesh, and the ability to breathe eluded him.

"Alright," he whispered. "I won't do it again."

"Promise me," Derek demanded.

Kit cringed. "I promise."

Derek's hold on his chin tightened. "Mean it this time, Kit."

"I promise," he vowed again. "I won't do anything to antagonize anyone."

Derek's breath left him in relief, and he pulled the younger boy towards him until he was curled against his frame.

"How the hell did someone as sweet as you ever end up in a place like this?" Derek wondered with confusion. "The world is fucked up. You don't belong here, Kit."

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