Wood: A True Lover's Story

He dropped his bags at his feet on the curb and stood leaning against the basketball hoop Mr. Mannis allowed the guys to play on for one hour a day. He was excited to see his old cellmate again. He grinned a little at their hard-won relationship. It definitely hadn’t been love at first sight. Wood remembered when Bishop first got to McDowell Correctional Facility. He was a transfer from another prison and only three years into his sentence. But he looked as if he was fresh-in the way he trudged into the cell with tears in his eyes as if he’d never seen a damn six-by-eight before.

Those first few days as his cellmate, Bishop didn’t eat, he didn’t exercise, and he didn’t sleep. And when he did he had horrible nightmares, and Wood had wanted to beat the crap out of him for causing him so much disruption. And he’d come damn close until Bishop began to cry out a name in his dreams… Trent. He’d found out that Bishop had been serving his time all right until he was forced to leave his best friend behind, his brother, who he’d sworn he’d never abandon, and he was terrified for him. Wood believed it probably would’ve broken Bishop if he hadn’t stepped in and helped him through it.

It was just something about the way he’d described this Trent that made Wood curious.

“Mmmm, Wood. Are you leaving so soon? Say it ain’t so.” A soft, silken voice slithered across the back of his neck and down his spine.

Wood closed his eyes and took a deep breath, knowing exactly who that voice belonged to. His cock couldn’t help but take interest at the slightest innuendo of sex these days, but throwing in a hot sex addict like Rayne to tempt him was just plain cruel. Wood dropped his head back as slender fingers wove intoxicatingly through the length on top of his head, applying the perfect amount of pressure to his scalp. Damn the guy knew how to touch a man in all the right places. Another arm wove around his waist as a hand eased up his torso, grazing his left nipple. Wood groaned as his cock pulsed eagerly at the mere thought of some action.

“Yeah. Don’t leave me, Wood. Not before I get to hear you moan my name.”

Warning sirens began to blare in Wood’s head as he took a couple of steps forward and turned to face his—now ex—housemate. “Rayne.” Wood was damn near panting as he braced himself against the goalpost. “Stop it.”

“Why?” he asked, inching forward always so bold in his approach.

Wood struggled just a bit more each time he had to turn the delicious man down. He was sex personified today in a pair of tight black leather pants, a soft ivory sweater that made the gray in his eyes appear brighter, and an expensive-looking cream parka with fur around the hood. The younger man hadn’t worked a day in his life, so Wood assumed it was another outfit purchased by his many admirers. Rayne grinned smoothly at him when Wood’s gaze instinctually traveled lower to the prominent bulge.

Ugh. “Damnit, Rayne. Stop.” Even the man’s name was sexy. That’s why Rayne kept up the pursuit—he said he literally couldn’t stop—until men cried his name in ecstasy. And trust, many of them did. It was a drug for Rayne, his own form of high. But Wood liked the younger man as a friend, and he never wanted to take advantage of his addiction like the other residents tried to do.

Rayne paused at the firmness in Wood’s tone, despite whatever lust he may have seen blazing in his eyes a second ago. Rayne’s gaze dropped to his black suede boots, and he seemed to curl in on himself right before Wood’s eyes. He saw the effects of Rayne’s addiction in his defeated body language, the shame, the embarrassment.

“Thanks, Wood,” Rayne whispered, barely able to meet his eyes as he peeked up at him through dark lashes. “Not many men fight me off. You always do.”

“I’m sure it’s not easy for you. And a lot of people don’t understand your addiction, Rayne.” The young man looked so miserable that Wood wished he could go to him and hug him, but he knew that’d be a horrible trigger. “All they see is a beautiful man wanting them… and what’s better than that?”

“But you don’t?” Rayne nibbled on his pink bottom lip.

“Oh I do. But I see a lot more than just sex in you. It’s not how I start a conversation.”

Rayne fisted his hands, then shoved them in his coat pockets as if he was struggling with not touching. “You’re one of the good ones, Wood. But I’m afraid they don’t make ’em like you anymore.”

Let’s hope they don’t. God should’ve broken the mold after He made him. Wood didn’t consider himself a good man, not even a decent one. He’d done horrible things to people. He’d ruined lives… taken lives. He wasn’t anything. And he damn sure didn’t deserve to lie down with a man as young and sweet and beautiful as Rayne. So easily corruptible. Yeah, the guy had a record a mile long and stayed in and out of jail, but he wasn’t a criminal in Wood’s eyes. The government kept locking Rayne up because he liked to have sex. Albeit they were usually in public places—but didn’t the justice system have bigger fish to fry?