Taylor 🩸 CEO of Stadler

After the violent explosions and alarms of the prison break, it was comparatively silent in the back of the armoured truck. The engine rumbled distantly, and the two men sat opposite each other breathed, but other that it was silent.

One might describe it as deadly so, if you considered who the two men were.

Men who were once enemies, fighting for the edge as the world swayed between two opposite ideologies, and failed at keeping their personal dislike of the other out of the bigger conflict. Now, they were… something different.

Stich ended up being the one to speak first, his one good eye still hauntingly blue as he stared at Adler. “Don’t they teach you it’s rude to stare?”

“I’m not staring.” Adler retorted, as the hope that they wouldn’t have to talk more than was necessary curled up and died inside him. It had been his idea to break him out in the first place, but that didn’t mean he liked the man.

Why did Stitch have to insist on making this awkward? He got what he wanted, to be out of prison, and Adler got what he needed, a little bit of Stitch’s help.

It wasn’t like he could tell Adler was staring at him too. It was the advantage of wearing sunglasses in a dark space, that it was never clear what you were looking at.

Adler blustered; but he was.

Stitch knew it too.  

“You are,” Stitch grunted. “What, do you like the uniform?” 

Adler let out a harsh chuckle. That was quick. Stitch always had been able to do that, to perceive Adler down to his core, on the few occasions Adler had let him speak.

It wasn’t really the uniform Adler liked. It was how it made Stitch look. How perfectly it created the image of a monster, chained and caged, subjected to Adler’s power and whims. A proud, arrogant man laid low underneath him. 

“What, no words?” Stitch leant towards him. “That’s really all it takes for you? A shredded prison uniform and you’re ready to bend over?”

“I think you’ll be the one bending over.” Adler leant in as well. “Most guys like you end up being right whores in prison. Is that how you spent your time? Bending over?”

“Why you–” Stitch lunged, just as the truck swerved violently.

The movement tossed both of them back against the opposite walls, and the silence resumed as they resettled themselves.

“I suppose it could be the other way.” Adler mused, after a moment. “It’s all or nothing in prison – be frigid or a whore. Which are you?”

“Why don’t you find out?” Stitch challenged, leaning up so he was ready when Adler lunged at him.

It wasn’t a grand fight. The initial momentum threw their bodies against the side of the van, which promptly repelled them back and sent them tumbling back down between the benches, both men grunting as they hit the hard metal floor. The pair struggled in the confined space, hits mean and messy as they were running on dregs after the adrenaline fuelled breakout.

Stitch was caught off guard by how much stronger Adler was than the last time they’d fought, where Stitch had been able to overpower him with ease. For his own part, Adler was realising he’d overestimated how much Stitch would have slacked in his training whilst being stuck in a cell, and that he didn’t have the advantage he’d hoped he would.

They tossed and turned on each other, tearing at each other’s clothes until Adler ended up on top, his bent knee pressed down between Stitch’s legs. He was panting, hungry for victory, and seeing it get closer, as Stitch’s struggle was not only failing to get him out of his current predicament, but actively creating a new one. 

“Looks like you were a nothing, huh?” Adler grinned, lifting his knee slightly to watch Stitch’s dick harden inside the frayed white trousers. “If a little rassling is all it takes for this.” 

“You’re talking to yourself.” Stitch’s hand shot out, and he grabbed Adler’s half hard dick through his jeans, the awkward position leaving Stitch literally holding Adler by his balls.

Adler only grinned, determined that he wouldn’t be the one to break. “You going to take that mask off?”

“No. You, the glasses?”

Adler shook his head. “Glad we settled that easily.”

Stitch grunted in agreement, stilling as Adler undid his trousers, tugging the prison logo down over Stitch’s thighs until it was lost in the puckering material, allowing his cock to spring free for the first time with him as a free man. 

Adler whistled at the sight, and paid for it with a harsh pinch on his balls, making Stitch’s remaining strength apparent from the fact that Adler felt it, despite his dick still being padded by his jeans.

Adler swatted Stitch’s hand away and undid them instead, Stitch going with it until Adler shifted his position so he was fully between Stitch’s legs, and his balls were hidden out of Stitch’s reach. Adler wasn’t looking for a full demonstration of his grip strength.

Adler’s dick fell next to Stitch’s, the two lengths looking remarkably similar in the dim van light. That was, aside from length. Adler had that, but barely.

He could have looked at them for days, analysing every element, perk, flaw to determine which of them was truly superior, until Stitch cleared his throat, and Adler remembered that the question had already been answered, by Stitch being the one lying on the floor right now. He wrapped his hand around both his and Stitch’s dick, fingers barely meeting his thumb as he started to stroke, letting the rumble if the truck cover up his deep groan, as Stitch’s cock pulsed against his own, confirming that he’d been keeping it dry for years. 

Stitch almost – almost – looked good like this. His good eye slid closed, before his upper face was hidden completely by the chunky gas mask as Stitch rolled his head back.

He would never have guessed this is how their reunion would go, but Adler was a man who could handle a curve ball. A new way to control Stitch, even a highly unconventional one, wasn’t a bad thing.

Adler slowed his hand, admiring how Stitch’s body twitched, before his head snapped back up, eye glinting before Adler quickened his hand again.

Plus, Stitch had read him like a book. The uniform, or what it represented, made Adler quite happy to jerk another man off, maybe even more if they’d had the time.

Like he said, control. 

Stitch was moaning now, so Adler let himself go, eyes closing as he groaned loudly alongside him. If Stitch wanted to tell anyone about Adler’s habits, he’d be the one who’d have to explain how he knew about them.

Suddenly a hand was on his. 

Adler’s eyes snapped open, as he looked down to Stitch’s hand clutching on top of his own. The increased pressure squeezed their dicks harder, as Stitch dragged their hands faster. He was breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling, dick twitching, as Adler felt something sticky moving between his fingers and their cocks. He winced, thinking the pre-come was just from Stitch, before he looked down again and realised it was from them both.

The sight made him come first, groaning as he spread his cum over Stitch’s shirt. He tried to sit up, and pull his hand away, but Stitch’s grip was too strong, keeping it there, stroking until Adler’s dick was sore, and Stitch had come too, mixing in with Adler’s on his chest.

Wordlessly, he let Adler go, breaking them apart to pick themselves up and tuck their dicks away.

Adler did so first, going back to staring at Stitch as the silence resumed, back to where they were a few minutes ago.

Except, it wasn’t. They were sat in the same places, staring in silence again, but it couldn’t have been more different.

“You owe me a new uniform.” Stitch picked at the threads of his shirt. 

“Nah.” Adler’s fingers twitched. He’d kill for a smoke. Why didn’t he get a truck with windows? “Should send you back in this one, so everyone knows what you were doing on your sabbatical.” 

Stitch laughed. “You think I’m going back.”

“I’m legally obligated to.”