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.
