Throne [MxM]

18

Colin Aaron Skyes Point Of View

It's surprising when a guard pushes our cell is opened. Behind him stood three other guards, one of them had a German Shepherd on a short leash. The four guards are armed heavily for almost no reason at all. The civilians have gone and not many of the prisoners have plausible weapons. The dog, of course, doesn't have a weapon, but he pulled up his lips, showcasing the rows of glistening teeth.

Grayson startles, squirming on his cot across from me. I sent him a look and he stilled. The first guard opened his mouth.

"Up. Hallway," The guards barks. "Don't take anything with you."

I stand from my own cot, pushing blankets behind me as I reach my feet.

"Now?" Grayson asks and doesn't make a move to follow their orders.

I sent him another look as the guard yelled; "Now!"

Grayson jumps off his own cot, barely landing on his feet.

Two of the guards and the dog stay in our cell, shutting the door behind them. They were most likely doing searches. The dog was unneeded, however it gave the guards the flair for dramatics that they oh so loved.

"Face the wall," The same guard yells.

We oblige, Grayson a bit more reluctantly them me. I rest my forehead against the cool concrete, with my forearms on either side of my face and my fingers linked above my head.

They're doing a search, but it's obvious that Grayson doesn't know that.

It's kind of genius to do it after Families Day, really. I know that neither Grayson nor I have drugs, alcohol or weapons in our possession, so I'm not that worried.

"Hey!" Graysons yelps as the guard starts to pat him down roughly.

"Stop," The guard says impatiently.

The guard that was patting me down was less gentle then the one doing Grayson. But Grayson still resisted while I stayed completely still.

I've done this before, obviously.

It took most of my willpower not to attack the guard that was touching Grayson.

"Stop it, Gray," I say, slipping into my alpha tone.

The guard huffs a little smirk as Grayson's body freezes. But Grayson's guard still motions for his colleague to take out his gun.

The barrel of his gun presses into my spine, but there's no way for me to prove it, because I'm facing the wall.

"Zip it, Skyes."

I don't speak again but I do roll my eyes.

We're worthless to the guards. If we're alive or dead it doesn't matter. We might as well do as they say. It gives us a better ch

The guard slams the butt of his gun into my upper back, bruising the skin between my shoulder blades. I let out a small grunt in pain and flex my jaw.

The guard probably picked up on my annoyance.

All of guards and dog leave after a few more moments of us being patted down. They went into the next cell, after locking us in ours.

They have it all down to routine.

Inside, the cell is a mess. Papers and books are scattered everywhere. Our pillows are on the floor, next to the door, and our blankets lay in a pile beside them. My mattress is crooked on the frame and our extra uniforms from the shelf are thrown across Grayson's bed.

They turned this place upside down looking for drugs and weapons that we don't have.

I muttered incoherently and began to pick up the papers.

"Are you okay?!" Grayson asks frantically, eying my back as if he could see the upcoming bruise though my orange uniform.

"Yeah..., why wouldn't I be?" I asked, looking at him oddly.

I was mostly still annoyed at the guard who touched Grayson, but other then that I really couldn't think of much else.

"Your back, he hit you-with his gun!" Grayson said, reaching up slowly and touching the tender part of my spine.

"Well don't touch it!" I snapped taking a step forward away from him.

He growled a bit and stepped forwards towards me.

"Grayson, I said no," I said sharply. His eyes widened and he stopped growling immediately, taking a large step away from me.

"S-sorry, I-I didn't mean too," He said with a guiltily look in his brown eyes.

"Don't touch me without me telling you too, ever again," I muttered, going back to picking up the things scattered along the floor.

Grayson only nodded silently and began to help clean up.

——

By the time our cell is somewhat organized, it's lights out. Of course, the lights in the hallway never really go out. The night guards need to be able to see us. Thus, we're bathed in a grainy, gray light, and it's too dark to read or anything, but too light to sleep.

But what else can we do? Unless we want to get beaten.

So that's how I end up lying on my cot, staring across the room to Grayson. We would usually both sleep in my coat, but tonight wasn't the night.

He doesn't belong here. He's never broken a law in his life, much less one that could land you a spot in prison.

I, however, belong here. I watched people get killed and did nothing to stop it. I cheated, stole and lied to get drugs and booze. Because I was stupid enough to become addicted to them. It's easy to see how the convicts that have been here longer have hardened. You have to be, not only to survive, but to keep your sanity.

Maybe I'm losing mine. Who knows? If I truly, clinically went insane, I'd be taken to an asylum. That wouldn't be great either, but it would be better than rotting out my days in here.

Anything is better than prison. Even death. But I need to get us out of here, not only for Marley and Spencer, but for Grayson too. I want to save him from my fate of becoming an angry empty shell of a person that I've become.

Because he's the person that I can never be. A great alpha, lots of friends, trustworthy, and loved my most people he comes in contact with.

And I have an issue with people unexpectedly touching me. It's pathetic really.

I am mated to one of the favorite people in the world. And that he's mated to the most hated.

Ironic ain't it?

I stayed quite for the rest of the night and the next morning, not saying one word.