Visiting hours: Aaron slips forward to the edge of his chair, and Martin puts out a hand to steady him, like he’s gentling an unpredictable animal.

“You’re not scared I’ll bite, are you, counselor?” Aaron shows his teeth, just to tease him, one of those winsome smiles that brought them here in the first place. Vail plays it like he’s so high-class and cynical but he’s a born sucker.

“I thought you used a knife,” Vail says dryly. His hand passes over Aaron’s cheek with unfeigned gentleness. Soft hands, soft eyes. What would it be like to fuck him?

Aaron takes his hand and places the first two fingers into his mouth. The pad of his tongue rasps over the smooth salted skin — the tendons in the back of Vail’s hand twitch, but he doesn’t withdraw. Aaron lets himself look wrecked and plaintive, sucking until the spit wells in his mouth and he can feel the beginnings of his gag reflex prickling. He wants to look him in the eye as his mouth does the work. He wants to see it on his face.

Aaron wants him down on his level. He hooks his fingers in Martin’s belt and tugs.