Found Love In A Hopeless Place

The first time I met Noah Redflower I'd assumed he was a volunteer. He sat on the front steps of the memorial prison hospice clinic, wrapped in a blanket despite the South Dakota afternoon heat. He was young, tan, with the typical long hair of a Lakota native.

"I'm Marc," I said, holding out my hand. I had a black eye and a swollen cheek, part of the reason why I was allowed to serve the remainder of my sentence as a hospice volunteer.

"Noah Redflower," he said, shaking my hand, revealing an armful of tattoos. "You get transferred from juvie?"

I forced a chuckle. I knew I looked young for my age. I had my mother's wavy brown hair and dark eyes, making me look more feminine than I would like. My cellmates didn't let me forget it.

"I'm actually twenty-six," I said eager to get indoors, as the sun was becoming unbearable. "I got transferred from Atlantic City."

"Serious dude?" Noah said with a laugh. "Damn, man, you're a long way from home."

"Yeah," I said, looking at my blue, prison-issued hospital scrubs. "I got sent here on a plea deal."

"Really? That's cool." Noah stood up. He placed a finger to my chin, lifting my face as if to examine me.

I assumed he was going to say something about my face. "What?"

Noah looked into my eyes with a sense of seductive gaze. "You Chicano?"

"Italian," I said, nervously choking on the lump in my throat. There was something about Noah that made me feel like a teenage girl talking to her Hollywood idol. "My grandparents on my mom's side were from Sicily."

"And your dad?"

"I never knew my father." The words slipped from my lips like water flowing down a stream.

Noah bit his lip, and then pushed his tongue into his cheek. The way he moved his mouth was not sexual, but contemplative. I saw something in his eyes that I had not seen in a long time; true sympathy.

"So, Marc, you got a girl back home in Jersey?"

"Nah, man," I muttered as casually as I could. I was into guys, but back in Jersey that had been my undoing. I was a faggot, a freak, and when I went to prison for drug trafficking I became communal property. There were scars on my body, tattoos in places that I'd rather forget about. And after the incident that nearly killed me, I truly believed my body would never belong to me again. But here I was, faced with an angel; with butterflies in my stomach and sporting major wood.

Noah moved his face close to mine. I could smell the peppermint of the gum he was chewing. "You want to have some fun?"

My body shuddered, and I instantly took a step back. "What?"

Noah placed his hand in mine, never once breaking eye contact. His trembling hands were covered in scars. "I was the property of a few different gangs."

Wearing my hospital scrubs I knew my boner was visible it was only a matter of time before he noticed. "Yeah, me too."

Noah's eyes filled with child-like innocence. "Well, then, welcome to paradise."

"Thanks." I let him take my hand, walking like a couple of grade-schoolers.

He wasn't that much taller or larger than me and he maintained his gleeful demeanor as we walked down the halls to room patient room 0654.

I was ready, or as ready as I would ever be. "Do you have a key?"

Noah placed a hand in his pocket, producing a card key. But he seemed hesitant to open the door. He placed the card between my fingers so that we opened the door together. His hand was trembling even worse than before.

"You ok?" I asked. "I can just go. I mean I should probably go check in, anyway."

Noah turned to me. He stroked his finger to my cheek, gazing lovingly into my eyes, "I used to be like you. I was a pet, a plaything, a fuckboy. But here, we fuckboys live like royalty. Because here we have a choice." He moved his lips closer.

I could feel the warmth of his breath. So moved in closer, just close enough to feel the softness of his lips. We kissed slowly; soft and tender. I reach my hand to his angelic face, tracing along his cheekbone, this felt like a dream.

I knew the ball was in my court, so I went for it: I opened the door. Pausing in the doorway I cupped his face, kissing him deep and hard. My hands trembled as I looked into his eyes.

Noah smiled ever so slightly. "That was nice." He kissed me again while shutting the door without the slightest noise.

I opened my mouth to taste his tongue. This resulted in Noah pushing his gum into my mouth as he held the kiss as we moved to the king-size bed.

The room was clearly a patient room but the large bed in the well-lit room more so resembled a low-budget motel.

I lay on the bed, my shirt rising up to show the bottom of my abs. My body was sweaty, and I knew I must have smelled, but the refreshing coolness of the soft comforter felt heavenly on my aching back. I closed my eyes as I felt a tongue trace from my navel down my hips.

"I kinda have a thing for guys with pubic hair," Noah said between kisses. "The way dudes shave in gen-pop you'd think we were in Miami." He untied the drawstring of my pants, freeing my raging erection. "Can I touch you?"

"Yes, please."

My new best friend placed his lips to the tip of my uncut cock. He didn't spit but rather drooled down my shaft, licking me clean like a Popsicle. I knew I wasn't porn-star big, maybe six inches from the base to the tip, but Noah worked slow.

Gripping the sheets, I knew I had to be gushing with pre-cum. "That feels so good."

"I'm glad." He deep-throated me a few times before pausing to pull my pants down to my knees. If I wasn't wearing shoes I think he would have tried to strip them off completely. "Now, spread your legs."

I felt his hands jerking off my cock, alternating between fast and slow movements. I was already close but when he put his mouth on my balls, licking and sucking, it was all I could do not to cry out. Then I felt his tongue rimming my hole.

I had eaten ass before but I'd never been on the receiving end. Noah had a truly gifted tongue. The moist tender organ filled me up, penetrating me deeper than I had ever been before. This was more than sex; this was pure selfless touch.

I wanted so badly to jerk off, to give myself my first real orgasm in God knows how long, But there was one thing I wanted more. "Can I touch you?"

"Yeah, of course, man." Noah took my hand, placing it to his hard cock. He was big but at that moment that didn't matter. I wanted to please him, I wanted to love him.

I opened my eyes, looking up at the ceiling and that was when I saw it. In the corner of the room was a single black security camera. 'Oh fuck.'

There was a knock at the door. "Noah!" shouted a stern female voice. "This is Dr. Miller, I'm going to need you to unlock this door."

Noah sighed. "I guess you have to start your shift." He stood up and casually walked to the door. "Maybe we can play later."

He opened the door to reveal a middle-aged female doctor. She was short, blonde, but with a kind face like that of a teacher. "Hello Marc, I see you've met Noah."

I got dressed as quickly as I could, pulling my pants on over my uncomfortable hard-on. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Miller."

"Don't worry, you won't be reported as this is your first offense," she said, from the doorway. "Noah is our resident, self-appointed, welcome wagon," Dr. Miller sighed, "but please be aware the prison administration frowns upon volunteers engaging in relations with hospice patients."

I nearly tripped over my own feet. "Noah's a patient?"

"Yup," Dr. Miller said with an exasperated nod. "Noah Redflower, age twenty-two, late-stage Ocular Melanoma," the doctor explained, as she patted Noah on the head like a puppy who had pissed on the carpet. "And Marc, I'm certain you remember from orientation, that is all you are allowed to know about any patient in your care. Unless, of course, that information is shared to you on a voluntary basis. Considering Noah's affinity for sharing things..."

I pulled on my clothes, attempting to make myself look presentable, just as a tall Hispanic man pushed past me.

"Excuse me," he said in a deep, menacing, voice. The man stood tall, even while walking with an iv stand. With a red flannel bandana on his head and a noticeable limp, he was clearly a patient. But before getting sick he had been someone powerful. Technically he still was.

"I'm sorry, Sir." I quickly moved to Dr. Miller's side.

The tall man stared down Noah. "I see you didn't come." He was correct, Noah's exposed cock was still completely erect. "Please excuse us, Dr. Miller."

Dr. Miller obliged and led me out the door. "Come one, Marc, let's get you checked in."

She didn't have to ask twice. As we left I could hear the unmistakable sounds of sex. "Who was that?" I asked when we were a good distance away.

"Juan-Palo Santiago, Noah's roommate."

My body instantly froze.

"You alright? You know that name?"

"Yeah." I knew that name. He was a legendary Peruvian drug lord, a known rival to the people I had been working for. That confusion subsided as another thought entered my mind. "Why was there only one bed?"

"They were given permission to push their beds together," Dr. Miller replied as if this was a common occurrence.

"Are all the patients allowed that level of freedom?"

"Patients here have less than a year to live, on average, so the warden is willing to look the other way. Just as long as there are no reports of assault or violence." She picked up a folder of papers and a duffle bag, handing them both to me.

"How sick is he?" I asked, glancing at the bag of medical uniforms and prison issue clothing.

"The cancer has fully metastasized to his brain. You'll see the worst of it at night. You'll also see why we're willing to let him have such an 'involved' roommate. Let me show you to our staff sleeping quarters."

We walked to the elevator and took it to the basement. The sleeping quarters were the main draw for inmate volunteers; bunk beds with heating, ac, a private gym, and all the food you could ever want, contingent on good behavior of course.

I was assigned a bed in the night-crew dorms, and given a start time for my first shift, '8pm-8am.' This was going to be interesting.

I shared a room with three other guys. One was sleeping under a yellow blanket, while the other two were writing in notebooks. I thought I could drop off my stuff and take a shower before getting a few hours of sleep.

"You're not going to say hello?" asked the older man on the top bunk. "We don't bite."

A younger blond man, with dreadlocks and a surfer tan, chuckled from the opposite bunk. "Unlike Noah Redflower."

The older man laughed. "Don't get me started on that freak. Anyway, you can call me Carl," he said, looking up from his notebook just long enough to make eye contact.

"Hi," I replied nervously. Did he just call Noah a freak? "What do you guys know about Noah Redflower? What's his deal?"

"He's fucked up in the head," the blond man replied. "Kinda like your fucked up face."

I had almost forgotten my bruised cheek. "Funny."

The younger man held out his hand. "I'm Adam, I'm assuming you got sent here for good behavior? Or do you have some kind of medical background?"

"Marc," I shook his hand finally feeling comfortable enough to take a seat on my new bed, "and I guess it's a little of both. I have a medical degree and a crap ton of debt, which is what got me where I am today."

That got a chuckle from Adam. "No wonder you got put on the night shift."

I, unfortunately, wasn't kidding about my degree but it wasn't what I wanted to talk about. "So, tell me about Noah. I mean how is someone so young in hospice?"

Adam leaned in. "From what I've heard, the kid's been here for over a year."

"How?"

"Rumor has it he got beat up pretty bad, hit his head, or something. When he got taken for treatment docs found a tumor growing on the back of his eye," Adam's voice was becoming more and more excited, like a little boy dissecting a frog in science class. "The placement of the tumor, combined with a skull fracture, or whatever, causes him to become a sex addict."

"Uh, what?" I looked to the older man to see if Adam was just full of shit.

Carl just shook his head. "That about sums it up." He closed his notebook, looking me in the eyes with a sense of pity. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Noah's a sweet kid; a real poet, intellectual." Carl was clearly trying to not come off as a bully. "Just don't let him pull you into the room with the camera. I've never been but kids like Adam and," he motioned to the sleeping man, "Kyle, they've seen some shit."

I needed to change the subject. "What about Juan-Palo Santiago?"

Carl shrugged. "What about him?"

It was all I could do to keep my mouth from hanging open. Was it possible they didn't know who he was? "He's an officer of the Peruvian cartel."

Adam snorted as he laughed. "Peru? I guess, I'm not surprised. I mean, I'm not impressed either. I've worked here for two years and I think I've seen high ranking criminals from all over. I think the last major one was a guy from Honduras."

"I remember him," Carl nodded casually, "the war criminal who took a plea deal: really nice guy. I think he became a born-again Christian before he passed."

"Now I'm confused, is this a drop off hub for the FBI or something?"

Carl sighed. "It's really not that difficult to understand. The patients here are all terminally ill, and even if they tried to escape we're in the middle of the South Dakota badlands. Anyway, to answer your previous question Juan-Palo arrived with end-stage prostate cancer. He's kind of a hard-ass, but Noah, that kid does something to him. If I didn't know about Juan's voyeurism fetish I would say they had a pretty nice father-son type relationship."

"Voyeurism fetish?" That explained Juan's sudden appearance.

Adam lay on his bed, closing his eyes. "Juan-Palo watches from his personal security feed, but it's so much hotter when he's in the room. His dick doesn't work anymore, so he's not even jerking off, but you can tell he's into it."

I had heard enough. "I think I'm going to take a shower." I grabbed a change of clothes and went to the bathroom. There was no lock on the door, I assumed that was because this little room held the only set of toilets. I could hear them laughing. And on the other side of the room, I saw a second door to that I assumed was another dorm. I had moved halfway across the country for the same lack of privacy. At least these people wouldn't try to kill me for being a mob doctor.

Hopefully.

I mean, I did have a crush on a guy who was essentially the property of Juan-Palo Santiago. I put my change of clothes on a chair, leaning it against the door. That way I would at least receive a warning sound if/when someone came in.

I stripped naked and stood under one of four shower heads, letting the warm water caress my skin. There were tears in my eyes and a true pain in my heart. But worst of all, my erection was still present. The idea of touching myself made me nauseous.

I turned the water to its coldest setting. Taking deep breaths, I just wanted to feel numb. I didn't know what was worse, getting assaulted in gen-pop or the idea that Noah was a mentally ill fuckboy.

One thing was certain, I had the next twelve hours to find out the truth.