M/M Fantasy Romance
by Acin Fals
There are two types of isolation: physical and mental.
I’m forced into intimacy with both types in the country’s only high security detention facility for extra-sensitives (you know — us super-freaks). They imprisoned me for crimes against humanity’s mainstream.
Humanity. Who gives a shit. It can store me away from all the wild magnets that would pull on my extra sensitivity. All I want is him near me again.
His is a bond that matters. Mindboy spent so much time influencing my thoughts while I manipulated his ass that without our contact, I’m empty from the inside out, top to bottom. Every part wonders where he went. Aching sets a new boundary for my body and soul.
Nah, more than a want. I need that mindfuck of a superhero with his intense brown eyes and dark skin hinting of blue. His voice sliding between memories. I miss stealing a breath which carries a suppressed scream of emotions.
I fucking need him. But he’s out there. And I’m trapped inside the concrete walls of an ignorant society. I’m isolated again in my own mind. Again, like before he crashed into me in downtown Neu Metro.
A familiar thrumming inside my blood pushes me down to wait for the next impact on my life. Someone is bringing it. The thin foam mattress is sealed to the concrete bed. It’s useless as protection. I stick my hands between my thighs to trap them at the wrist, avoiding my rod, sensitive from misuse.
The fetal position helps shield internal organs from the debris exploding over my head from the east wall. It would’ve— if any of the chunks of concrete soaring through powdered rock hit anything. They all disappear.
Can you do it? The familiar voice spreads across me like butter. I can give you the chain of magnetic plates from your workshop.
Hello, love, I think, pushing the words out as easily as if they’re formed by a mouth softening for his. Did you miss me as much as I missed you?
More than I can think about. Can you do it?
Whenever you’re ready, love.
Mindboy strides through the door like the respectable superhero he claimed to be. An off-duty superhero, sans costume.
He throws himself against me and wraps his arms tight around my ribs. The press of his face against my neck pulls a string of memories so vivid with emotions that he must be sharing them with me. I grab the thick leather of his jacket, warmed by his body heat. A cry slips out. Could be mine.
Mindboy pulls away as much as my grip on his clothes would allow. Behind him, a human guard slumps in the exit, propping the door open.
He had planned this. “That security virus you told me about muted the alarms.”
I release Mindboy but squeeze when he takes one of my hands in his. “We aren’t free yet. They’ll know it’s you. The cameras will check with the justice system.” My mind is arching through nonsense. He showed me rocks arching through dust. “Why are we blasting through the wall?”
“Not this wall, Mag,” he says. “I anchored one of your big magnets on the other side of the last wall. Like in the Fallerbilt heist. It’s the same concrete.”
“Someone pays attention.”
“Let’s go,” he says. Always ready, this one.
Breaking out of isolation alone is a struggle. It helps to have a hero.
The story above is revised from “Locked Up, Tight”, which placed second in Scribophile’s Through the Eyes of a Villain contest. “Locked Up, Tight” has also been posted on Medium.com @shadowfals.
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