Free Straight Boy: A Short Story by Alessandra Hazard

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    PART I: STRAIGHT IN PRISON
     
     
    Sage’s mom used to tell him that one day his face would get him into trouble.
    It looked like today was that day.
    Keeping his eyes down, Sage followed the guard to his cell, feeling uneasy and strange in his new overalls. Like a criminal.
    Sage almost laughed at himself. He was a criminal now, after having been sentenced to a year in prison for driving under the influence and injuring another person. It had been an accident, but no one cared. Well, he did, and Laura—his girlfriend—did too, and his mom had cried when the sentence was read out.
    Sage swallowed, remembering his mom’s crushed expression. She had looked so small and old all of a sudden, and it was his fault. She always worried too much about him.
    He pushed the thought away, trying to ignore the other prisoners banging against the bars and leering as he walked by. They were shouting obscenities that made his stomach twist into knots and bile rise to his throat.
    He hoped it wasn’t obvious how scared he was. He wasn’t exactly skinny and short—he was taller than average, and he had some decent muscles—but he was nowhere as big as some of those guys. They were built like tanks. Truth be told, Sage was completely terrified, and once again, he wanted to kick himself for getting drunk and ending up in this mess. When he got out of here, he would never, ever get drunk again—if he got out of here at all. He’d be sharing his cell with someone who was most likely stronger, tougher, and meaner than he was—with a real criminal.
    The guard shoved him into the cell. The door closed and locked behind him with a loud and somehow unsympathetic click.
    Sage wet his lips, eyeing his cellmate.
    The guy was lying on the bottom bunk, his eyes closed, so Sage took the opportunity to study him. He was tall and well-built. Dark, slightly curly hair, crooked nose, thick eyebrows, naturally tanned skin. He looked almost Hispanic, but not quite. He was probably around thirty, maybe thirty-five at most.
    “You done staring?” the guy said, without opening his eyes.
    Sage flinched. “Um, yeah. Sorry.”
    “The top bunk is mine.”
    Sage wanted to ask why he was lying in his bunk, then, but he had to bite his tongue. Being a smart-ass was probably not a good idea.
    “I’m Sage.”
    The guy opened his eyes. They were deep brown and oddly intense. His gaze swept over Sage before lingering on his mouth. “Nice to meet you, Sage. How well do you suck dick?”
    Sage flushed, stepping back. “I’m straight.”
    The guy lifted his eyebrows, looking vaguely amused. “Everyone’s straight here, Blue Eyes.”
    “I have a girlfriend!”
    The guy looked unimpressed. “Most of us have wives and girlfriends back home.” He got out of the bunk. A predator. He seemed like a predator.
    His heart in his throat, Sage stepped back.
    But instead of molesting him, the guy stretched his hand out for a handshake. “I’m Xavier.”
    Taken aback, Sage shook the hand warily.
    “It’s probably been a long day for you,” Xavier said. “Go to sleep. Nobody wanders around during the night.”
    “Yeah, okay,” he said, immensely relieved. The guy had been probably just joking when he said that stuff about sucking his dick. Of course he was joking.
    “I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” Xavier said. “Goodnight.”
    Sage blinked. “What the—? You aren’t fucking me, dude!”
    Xavier smiled. It was a surprisingly nice smile, his teeth white and even. He stepped closer to him until they were not even an inch apart. Sage swallowed, acutely aware that the guy was taller than him and much wider in the shoulders.
    “Let’s cut to the chase,” Xavier said softly, looking him in the eye. “I’m going to fuck you. It’s going to happen and you’d better get used to the idea. You’re lucky you’re with me. I won’t hurt you, I won’t force myself on you, and I’ll protect you