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sweet at the same time, with
Victor teasing his tongue and sucking on it gently.
    Crunch didn’t know how long they simply laid in
the embrace, sharing tender kisses as if they weren’t in the middle of a prison
camp run by the Dal mob. He felt sorry for Victor. Most workers were partially
responsible for their own fate by becoming indebted to the Dals. It was only
when they couldn't pay the money back that they were sent to Honeyhill and
other such places. But if Victor's story was genuine, his case was most
unfortunate, without a way out whatsoever. And he didn’t look like someone who
would last here long.
    “So...” murmured the prisoner. He nuzzled the side
of Crunch’s face, his stubble scraping his cheek, arousing Crunch as if there
were naked nerves on the skin. “What’s that nickname about?”
    “Ah... that. I’m good with the deadies.” Crunch
slowly rolled over to his back, utterly satisfied and flattered by the
interest. “The others laugh that when I go out there, all ya hear is ‘crunch,
crunch, crunch’ of their bones.”
    “But you don’t crush the bones of the living?”
Victor followed his move, throwing an arm over Crunch's chest.
    “Do I look that ‘armless?”
    “Not really, but one can hope.” Victor circled
Crunch’s nipple with his finger, gently swiping it over the other man’s chest.
    “Let’s just say I don’t carry a machete for the
rotters only.” He reached to his jacket for the pipe and tobacco. With carnal
urges satisfied, it was time for another type of pleasure.
    “But you wouldn’t ‘crunch’ my bones, would you?”
muttered Victor, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. Accompanying
it were a quiet sound and a rush of air. Victor was sniffing him. For a moment,
Crunch felt self conscious, but since Victor wasn’t moving away, it had to be a
pleasant scent for him.
    “Not if ya do good, do yar job, and don’t cause
problems.” He had to say it if he wanted Victor safe. The lad looked like he
was going to stir up trouble, and if Crunch didn’t make it known to him that
the rules were strict, another guard most certainly would.
    “What would you do without me? I can see you
haven’t bedded anyone in a looong time.” The soft whisper tickled Crunch’s ear.
    “I’m no animal. I can do without it.” Though it
wasn’t all true. He missed being close with another person. Nothing could
compare to it, and he didn’t have a chance for a lover since he joined the Dal
mob a year ago. And the more established he was, the less opportunities he had.
But it was the six months in Honeyhill that got him desperately hungry for real
human contact. The place was full of criminals, and by that he didn’t just mean
the guards. If he wanted to survive, he needed to watch his back at all times.
    The smile on Victor’s face told him that his act
wasn’t working. “I will tell you what I think, Crunch,” the prisoner said with
yet another soft kiss to Crunch’s cheek. “You’re going to do a lot to keep me
alive and well. You’re only saying all this because you’re afraid I would get
in trouble with the other guards.”
    “I’m not soft-hearted,” Crunch whispered and
hugged him slowly. “But I’d lie if I said I don’t want ya to do well ‘ere.” Even
if this place is getting liberated next week.
    Victor smiled, snuggling into his chest as if they
had been lovers for a long time. “I promise not to get in trouble with anyone
but you.”
    “Good. I’ll take that. Keep quiet, don’t engage
much, and you’ll do well. They don’t want the prisoners dead ‘ere. They want
them working.”
    “You want to smoke that?” Victor glanced at the
pipe.
    “Ah, yeah.” Crunch looked back to the pipe he was
holding and sat up to light the tobacco. Victor snuck up behind him and the way
he ran his nose down Crunch’s nape, smelling his skin, made it break out in
goosebumps.
    “How old are you?”
    “A hundred,” Crunch said without blinking an