AUTHOR'S NOTES:

New chappy, at long last. Might even be a little disconcerting, but there is some lemon flavored Seth and Garrettness.

James' story is nearly done. An original about Tony and Dane is also nearly done. And if anyone would be interested in Milan and his fellow hunky waiters as they encounter a pair of thirsty zombies, just in time for halloween, that short is finished and available now on Amazon ~dot~ com. Search for Spunk Craving Zombies, or for me, John T. Liz has also included a link on her blog.

Sis, I love you so much and I don't know what I would do without you.

As ever, big hugs and much fondness to my girls, Maureen, Rebecca, Kate and Miss Pauline. And Miss Pauline, it was so very lovely to hear your voice.

The FF witch hunt appears to be over. I will continue to post here and move to AO3 as and when I have to. When/if I am forced to complete the relocation you can find me at - archiveofourown ~dot~ org. Then just do a search for Jtrue.

Anyone who has not read the incredible Equal & Opposite, or is not now reading the brilliance that is Errors & Omissions, or Enticements & Obstructions, all by OhJasperMyJasper, should go do so right now. Here is how you find them since the FF witch hunt removed Liz from this site - ohjaspermyjasper ~dot~ blogspot ~dot~ com.

WARNING:

This story is intended for an adult audience! There is crude speech, hate speech and adult sexual subject matter of a homosexual nature. If you are under 18 stop reading now!

AU/AH/OC

All character names from Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The similarities end there.

Chapter 50: ICE

With the exception of the very unpleasant Immigration hearing, and one of their closest and dearest friends moving away, the week had been like the good old days. Nasir rose with Emmett to get on the phone to New York while Emmett headed down to the gym. Then they had breakfast together before Emmett went to work and Nasir got back on the phone. Nasir was not always waiting, scantily clad for Emmett when he got home from work, but on those days, when Nasir returned from racquetball with Garrett, Emmett helped him shower. Some nights they had dinner with Seth and Garrett, some nights they just relaxed in boxers, just the two of them at home. More nights that not, Nasir spent several hours on the phone to Italy checking on his building project.

Emmett had not been happier since the day he stood beside his husband and married him. It was just as it had been. While Nasir worked from home, they were together in domestic bliss. For nine nights in a row they slept in each other's arms. Nine mornings Emmett and Nasir each had the joy of waking beside his husband.

Emmett held Nasir for a good long time on the sidewalk in front of their building while Bobby waited to drive him to the airport Sunday night. Nasir took the red eye back to New York and the cycle began again. Emmett was already booked on the Friday afternoon flight to join him there.

Nasir put on a necktie in the Town Car as he rode from the airport directly to work that Monday morning. He found he actually looked forward to getting back to the office. And while it was good to be back in his office, a house without Emmett in it was no home. Without even thinking about it, Nasir worked a long day. He had to wait when he walked out through the revolving doors of his building that evening, as he had waited until too late to call for a car. Chaiyo eventually arrived with apologies for making Nasir wait, though it was not at all his fault and Nasir told him so. It was an easy drive up Madison Avenue to 62nd Street, over to Park Avenue, and up to their building at 78th Street.

"Good night, Chaiyo," Nasir opened his own door.

"Night, Mr. al Qasimi," Chaiyo gave a wave. "See you in the morning."

Nasir shut the car door behind him and turned toward his building. A smiling Vlad held the door open for him.

But Nasir never made it to that door.

"Nasir al Qasimi?" a neatly groomed man in a black suit approached him.

"Yes?" Nasir turned toward him as another identically dressed man closed in on him from the other side. He took no notice of well dressed people on the street. This was the Upper East Side. Men who fit this description were legion, but Nasir certainly did not expect any of them to know his name. And it never would have occurred to him to keep walking like he never even heard the man speak. Something Nasir was about to very much regret.

"I'm Agent Walters. This is Agent Brown," the first man produced a nice leather case that contained his picture ID and a badge that bore the letters ICE quite prominently in the center of it. "Immigration and Customs Enforcement, Mr. al Qasimi."

"We have an Order to Detain you," the second man took Nasir's briefcase from him and handed it to the agent in front of Nasir.

"What are you talking about?" Nasir was baffled. "Detain me for what?!" he looked back in both surprise and horror as the agent behind him deftly snapped a handcuff onto one wrist and quickly grabbed his other wrist to do the same.

In but the blink of an eye Nasir's hands were cuffed behind his back.

"What are you doing?!" Nasir demanded with both outrage and fear.

"You can take it up with your Deportation Officer, Mr. al Qasimi," Agent Walters was calm and collected as he began to search Nasir's pockets.

"What is a Deportation Officer?" Nasir demanded. "I am not to be deported! I have a green card! It is right there in my wallet!" he protested as Agent Walters removed his wallet from his inner suit jacket pocket. His cell was also removed from his person, shut off and dropped with his wallet into his briefcase.

"You cannot do this!" Nasir was wide eyed with shock and horror. "How has this happened?!"

Vlad stood with mouth agape and wide eyed as well, a front row observer not ten feet away as this event played out.

"Vlad! Vlad, call Emmett!" Nasir was desperate. Emmett would be able to get all the people they needed to help.

"Sir," Vlad shook his head.

"Come with us now, Mr. al Qasimi," Agent Walters commanded. Each of them took one of Nasir's arms and moved him toward their nearby unmarked car.

"Call Duane!" Nasir called over his shoulder. "Vlad, call Duane!"

"I call Mr. Siler!" Vlad yelled back as Nasir was shoved into the backseat of the car.

Park Avenue was a tree lined boulevard with trees in the island that divided the street as well. Across the intersection at the far curb of the one way 78th Street, two men in suits sat in the luxurious confines of the rear of a black Maybach 62. The older man wore a ghutra with his suit. They watched the man be taken into custody on the other side of Park Avenue. Once the black government Ford Crown Victoria drove away, the younger man without a ghutra or necktie, offered the older man his hand.

"Back to the office now," the man in the ghutra instructed his driver in Arabic as he shook his companion's hand.

Duane Siler swiveled his chair around away from his desk, and the open door of his office and leaned down. "Say the fuck what, Vlad?!"

"Mr. al Qasimi get arrested, right here at door!" Vlad conveyed. "Right outside!"

"By who? For what?" Duane questioned.

"I doan know, Mr. Siler. They doan say," Vlad answered.

"Did you hear them? Were you outside?" Duane asked.

"Duane?" his geeky, suspenders and glasses wearing PA stuck his head in Duane's door. His backpack was slung over one shoulder as it was past time to cut out for the day, but he heard his boss on the phone and it didn't sound good.

"C'mon in, Bubba. Close the door," Duane bid.

"This happen right in front of me, Mr. Siler," Vlad answered Duane's question.

"Then they had to have read him his rights," Duane conveyed. "They had to have said: Nasir al Qasimi, you are under arrest for, whatever the fuck it is."

"Nyet. They say nothing like that," Vlad stated.

"What the fuck?" Duane spoke to himself as he pondered. "Vlad, what were they wearing, the people who arrested him?"

"Black suit," Vlad answered. "Two of them in black suit."

"Did they show a badge?" Duane asked.

"Da," Vlad confirmed.

"Feds," Duane concluded. "Fuck, I hope this isn't some Homeland Security bullshit. Thanks, Vlad. Hey, do you have a number for Nasir's husband Emmett?"

"No, Sir. I only have Mr. al Qasimi cell and number to apartment," Vlad answered.

"Okay, yeah, me too," Duane admitted. "Hey, thanks for callin' me, Vlad. Ima git right on this," he ended the call and set the phone down. "Bubba, get on every Federal database and find this name," Duane wrote out Nasir's full name. "I need to know who has him and what the fuck for. And I appreciate the overtime."

"No problem. I'm on it," the PA whose name was not Bubba took the paper and opened Duane's office door to return to his desk.

"And I need to find Emmett," Duane picked up his cell again and touched the picture of his husband. It was highly unlikely that Rodney had obtained Emmett's number and not shared it, but he had to check.

Nasir was removed from the rear of the Crown Victoria in the underground parking garage beneath a tall building in lower Manhattan. It had been a long drive. Nasir wasn't sure exactly where he was, but it had to be down near the Financial District. Federal Plaza was, in fact, just two blocks from City Hall on Foley Square. The Federal Building was an enormous structure taking up two full city blocks and Nasir was taken up to the 9th floor.

Like any Federal facility not serving the very top echelon, the offices were drab. Nasir was led through a maze of corridors to a room with two chairs on either side of a rectangular table bolted to the floor. The walls and floor were the same bluish gray. There was a single light overhead and no windows.

"Sit down," Agent Walters directed as he led Nasir to one of the plain metal armchairs.

"When is someone going to tell me what is going on?" Nasir was beginning to get irritated.

"Take it up with your Deportation Officer," the disinterested agent repeated his standard line.

"And will he tell me what that even is?!" Nasir let his irritation show.

"Mr. al Qasimi, you can sit down, or we can sit you down," Agent Brown spoke matter of factly.

Nasir obediently sat down in the chair.

"Are you right or left handed?" Agent Walters enquired.

"Right," Nasir answered.

"Lean forward," Agent Brown unlocked the handcuff from Nasir's right wrist and allowed Nasir to move his arms forward. The agent then locked the loose handcuff to the left arm of Nasir's chair.

"Your Deportation Officer will be in shortly," Agent Walters placed Nasir's briefcase on the table and both agents walked out, closing the door behind them.

Nasir sat alone in the silent room. He lifted his left wrist only as far as the handcuff would allow and when he tried to move his chair, discovered it was bolted to the floor as well. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What in the fuck could possibly be going on? He certainly had no idea as to how the agencies of the US Government worked, but he could fathom no reason for what he was doing here. It had been a perfectly ordinary day. He had flown back on the red eye and gone straight to work, as he had many times. It had been a good and productive day at work. And now this. Taken off the street and handcuffed. Could the government just do that in this country? In the Emirates the Security Police could absolutely do that, but these two countries were nothing alike.

Nasir was well on his way to very pissed off when the door opened and a third man walked into the room. He was an older man than the first two and wore the shirt, tie and pants of his suit. He carried a thick manilla file folder and clutched it to his chest with one arm as that hand also held his coffee cup.

"Nasir al Qasimi?" the man asked as he closed the door. "Do you speak English, Sir?"

"I most certainly do! Who are you?! What am I doing here?!" Nasir demanded.

"Hoo, got a little fire in your belly!" the man chuckled as he moved to the other side of the table. "Best get that out of your system now. I'm Barry Waterson and I'm your Deportation Officer."

"What does that even mean?!" Nasir only grew more angry. "I am not being deported!"

"Only because we don't call it that anymore. You are being Removed, Mr. al Qasimi," Barry smiled as he sat down across from Nasir. His chair was not bolted down as he was able to slide closer to the table.

"I am not being Removed!" Nasir protested vehemently.

"Oh, I'm afraid you are," Barry opened the folder and began to extract papers. He casually took a sip of his coffee.

"Why am I handcuffed and restrained this way?!" Nasir lifted his left arm to make the handcuff clang on the metal arm of the chair. "Why are you doing this? What is going on here?!"

"You are being detained, Mr. al Qasimi," Barry informed as he continued to shuffle papers.

"I am under arrest? For what?! I have done nothing!" Nasir protested.

"You are not under arrest. You are being detained," Barry made the distinction with no practical difference. "And as to what you've done...," he thumbed through the papers looking for arrest records and the list of convictions. A detainee without some kind of criminal record in the United States was about as rare as a unicorn.

"Well, dammit," Barry got up and went to the door. He stepped out into the corridor just enough to yell down it. "Bob. Bob!"

"Yeah?" the voice came back.

"This file's incomplete. I don't have his arrest record or rap sheet. Qasimi!" Barry yelled down the hall and shut the door.

"I do not have an arrest record. I have never been arrested even once in my life!" Nasir informed. "This is all a terrible mistake! I am a respected businessman!"

"Sure you are," Barry chuckled as he returned to his chair. "Don't you worry. We'll get this sorted out," he moved papers around again. "When did you last eat, Mr. al Qasimi?"

"At lunch," Nasir answered.

"And when was lunch?" Barry pressed.

"Six or so hours ago now," Nasir clarified.

"That's a long while," Barry nodded to himself. "When Bob gets in here with the rest of your file, we'll get him to get you a sandwich. You like pastrami? There's a great little Jewish deli on the corner. Oh, wait now, you're an Arab, aren't you," he observed. "I hope you don't mind a Jewish deli."

"Certainly not!" Nasir was offended by the implication that because he was an Arab, he must be anti semitic. "There is a Jewish deli by my building. I go there all the time."

"Good, good. We'll get you all fixed up then," Barry nodded. "They won't be serving food any longer by the time you get where you're going."

"Where am I going?" Nasir didn't like the sound of that.

"You are being detained, Mr. al Qasimi," Barry repeated. "We're not going to keep you here in the office."

"What are you going to do with me?" Nasir asked with trepidation.

"You're going to a detention facility," Barry gave a vague answer.

"Sir, this is all a terrible mistake as you will see. I have no idea what I am doing here!" Nasir protested further.

"Do you have ID somewhere in here?" Barry picked up Nasir's Louis Vuitton briefcase and set it in his lap to go through it.

"My wallet is in there as well as my passport," Nasir answered.

"This your wallet?" Barry pulled it out and held it up.

"Yes," Nasir confirmed.

"And where is your passport?" Barry set Nasir's wallet on the table.

"In the zippered compartment on the inside there," Nasir pointed.

"Ah, here we are," Barry pulled it out and opened it. "Okay," he placed Nasir's briefcase at the far edge of the table. "And your other ID is in your wallet?"

"Yes," Nasir confirmed.

"Well, I'll be, a green card," Barry pulled it out.

"Yes, yes," Nasir nodded his relief. "You see that this is a mistake. I have a green card. I am a legal Resident Alien."

"You might have been," Barry set it aside.

"I am!" Nasir insisted. "The company I work for arranged it for me."

"Oh, they're gonna be disappointed," Barry shook his head. "And a driver's licence from Washington State, I see. You recently move to New York?"

"I live in Seattle. I only work here," Nasir explained.

"Perhaps you did," Barry pointed out Nasir's use of the present tense in his choice of words.

"I still do! Sir," Nasir hung his head in his frustration, "this is a terrible mistake as you will see."

"That's what they all say," Barry was not moved.

The door to the small room opened and another man in shirt sleeves leaned in. "Hey, boss, I can't find any arrest records for this guy at all. They're not missing. They don't exist."

"Well," Barry sat back in his chair and picked up Nasir's green card. "What the fuck is he doing here then?"

"Yes, yes!" Nasir nodded. "Now you see. This is all a mistake!"

"Doesn't matter," Barry dropped the green card on the table. "Hey, Bob, get Mr. al Qasimi a pastrami from the place on the corner, and a little bag of chips. You like a coke?"

"I do not want to eat. I want to go home!" Nasir protested.

"Go, Bob," Barry bid.

"Be right back, boss," Bob shut the door behind him.

"They'll run your fingerprints at the facility and get to the bottom of this," Barry assured.

"My fingerprints have been run. I have FBI clearance!" Nasir informed.

"Do you now?" Barry clearly doubted as he flipped through pages again. When he found the appropriate form, he pulled it out. "Well, look at that, you sure do," he admitted. It was clear that his file from the Immigration Court had been fully duplicated.

"Yes," Nasir nodded. "Do you now see?"

Barry's brow clouded for a moment and Nasir had a shred of hope that dissipated as the Deportation Officer shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I have an order to detain you pending Removal and that's what's going to happen."

"Sir, I am trying to reason with you," Nasir decided to try a different tact. "I must warn you. I am friends with a Federal Judge," he only slightly embellished the truth.

"This is an Order for Removal," Barry held up the Order from the Immigration Court. "I guess you weren't friends with this judge," he chuckled. "Your identification documents will remain in our files here. All of your other property will go with you. I just need to make photocopies," Barry rose and walked out of the room.

Nasir's head spun. He looked around the room wide eyed. What could possibly account for this? It was like the Earth turned upside down as soon as he stepped out of the car that took him home from work. It was a terrible dream and he desperately wanted to wake up.

"There we go," Barry returned with a legal sized envelope. "We'll just send this along with you as well."

"Sir, you must see that this is wrong, terribly wrong," Nasir attempted to reason.

Barry paid him no mind as he sat back down. "Let's finish our paperwork. First thing we need to do is classify you," Barry began to mark the form. "Date, this is Initial, Orange County," he muttered to himself as he went. "We are speaking English. Now, you'll have to excuse me if I ask what will seem like some stupid questions here. You're my first Arab, so I'm not well informed. Your name is Nasir al Qasimi. Is Al your middle name?"

"I do not have a middle name," Nasir hung his head. "My name is Nasir bin Omar al Qasimi. It means I am Nasir, son of Omar, from Qasimi. Qasimi is a tribal name. You would say that my last name is al Qasimi."

"Okay, we'll list your first name as Nasir and last name as al Qasimi," Barry wrote it in. "You are a man?"

"You are asking me?" Nasir could not fathom the question.

"I need to be very precise," Barry explained. "You self identify as a man?"

"Obviously," Nasir stated.

"And you have male anatomy?" Barry continued. "Do you understand my question?" he asked when Nasir just stared at him agape.

"You are asking me if I have a penis?!" Nasir was incredulous.

"I am asking you if you have a penis," Barry confirmed.

"Yes!" Nasir's belief that this could not possibly be real, grew with each passing moment.

"And you were born a man?" Barry continued.

"Yes!" Nasir was wide eyed.

"Okay, that's what I thought, but we have to be sure," Barry marked it down. "This'll all go a lot easier if you just answer my questions. Now, I think I read that you applied for Asylum, is that correct?"

"I did, yes," Nasir confirmed.

"What for?" Barry pressed.

"It is punishable by death to be gay in my country, though gay men do not live long enough for the state to put them to death for it," Nasir answered.

"You're a homosexual then?" Barry was entirely neutral.

"I am," Nasir confirmed, though he was suddenly filled with trepidation having done so.

"I just need to document if you have any special vulnerabilities," Barry explained. "I'll mark down sexual orientation and persecution. Now, severity of charge," he paused to look through the papers again.

"I have not been charged with anything!" Nasir objected.

"You're in Removal for a reason," Barry looked over the documents. "The Notice of Appearance has something on it. Oh, overstayed your Visa. That's all it is? Hmm," he scratched his head. "I've never seen someone detained for this before. And you have a green card."

"Yes!" Nasir nodded. "You see that this is all a mistake!"

"Well," Barry paused to consider. "There must be a reason for it."

"No!" Nasir protested. "There is not!"

"So, severity of charge, none," Barry forged ahead. "Single most serious conviction in criminal history, none. Additional prior convictions, none. Supervision history, you've never been in ICE custody before, have you? I don't think I saw that."

"No," Nasir shook his head, but did not look up. There was no reasoning with this bureaucrat.

"I didn't think so," Barry continued. "Now, you don't look like you belong to a gang of any type to me."

"I do not," Nasir confirmed. "This is all completely wrong. I am not a member of a gang. I am not a transsexual. I am not a criminal. I have never been and I never will be. I do not understand these questions or what I am doing here. Your impression or understanding of me is obviously completely wrong. Please let me call my husband. Let me call my attorney, please. Please."

"You can make phone calls to your attorney free of charge at the facility," Barry advised. "And you can purchase phone cards in the commissary, or call your loved ones collect. Any tattoos, Mr. al Qasimi?"

"No, I do not have tattoos," Nasir slumped in his chair.

"Now, I'm going to ask you this next question and I apologize if it seems like I'm profiling," Barry prefaced. "Are you a member of, or in any way affiliated with, al Qaeda, or any other international or domestic terrorist group?"

"It seems like you are profiling because you are," Nasir pointed out. "Would you ask me that if I were a white man?"

"I would not," Barry readily admitted.

"I am not, nor have I ever been, a member of, or in any way affiliated with, any type of terrorist group, and most especially al Qaeda," Nasir stated firmly.

"Are you a member of, or in any way affiliated with, any transnational criminal organization?" Barry continued.

"I do not even know what that is," Nasir gestured with his free hand.

"Answer the question please," Barry bid.

"No. I am an executive with Loews Hotels. I am the Vice-President of Expansion and Development. You can look it up online. I build hotels. That is all I do," Nasir informed.

"Two or more arrests for violent behavior, none," Barry went on. "Disciplinary infractions, none. Okay, your score is a zero. That's a first for me!" he chuckled in his amusement. "That certainly qualifies you for Low Custody housing."

"What does that mean?" Nasir did not like the words custody and housing in his Deportation Officer's statement.

"You won't be put in with the violent criminals," Barry assured casually.

"What?!" Nasir was wide eyed again. "I should not be with criminals at all! This is insane! Why will you not listen to me?! I want to call my husband and my attorney, right now!"

"In due time. Just calm yourself down," Barry held up a hand. "Now, I'm going to list you as Muslim. Isn't that correct?"

"If you must," Nasir gave a dismissive wave.

"Well, are you or aren't you?" Barry pressed.

"Yes," Nasir gave in.

The door swung open and they both turned to see Bob walk in with a paper sack.

"Pastrami on rye," Bob reached into the bag to placed the items on the table in front of Nasir. "I hope you like rye. Chips, Ruffles have ridges, and a coke."

"I do not want that," Nasir turned his head.

"Suit yourself," Barry gave a shrug. "Won't get another chance to eat until tomorrow," he advised. "Tell the guys he'll be ready to go in about fifteen minutes. Then we can all go home for the day."

"You got it," Bob obeyed. He walked out and closed the door behind him.

"So here's what's going to happen...," Barry began.

"I am in a nightmare and I cannot wake up," Nasir shook his head slowly. He was beginning to think that it was either that, or he was stark, raving mad.

"I'm sure it seems like that," Barry wanted to sound sympathetic, but just couldn't manage it. "You are now in Immigration and Customs Enforcement custody. You will be detained until you are Removed, whenever that is. I think the Order says...," he paused to find it and look it over. "Yeah, it does, thirty days. So on December fourth or thereabouts, as soon as we can arrange it, we'll put you on a plane for home. Unless, of course, you appeal."

"My appeal has already been filed," Nasir stated defeatedly.

"In that case, it could be several months. Who knows?" Barry mused.

"Sir," Nasir tried again, "you have seen for yourself that this is not right. I have a green card. I am not a criminal. You yourself even said, what am I doing here? I implore you, put a stop to this. You know this is not right. Let me go. Please."

"I don't make those decisions, Mr. al Qasimi. My job is to manage your case until I put you on that plane and close your file," Barry stated. He gathered up Nasir's paperwork and placed them either in the folder or the envelope. "You should eat," Barry rose and picked up Nasir's folder and his briefcase. The briefcase he left just inside the door and the folder he took with him as he departed.

Nasir lifted his left hand. How was he supposed to eat still handcuffed to the chair? He reached for his sandwich and managed to unwrap it with one hand. He didn't realize how hungry he was until he took a bite. The coke, which he didn't even like, was easy to open and thankfully it was still quite cold.

If only he could call Emmett. Nasir had been left alone with his briefcase, in which his phone rested, once before, and he kicked himself for not retrieving it now. There was nothing he could do while attached to this immovable chair. His Louis Vuitton leaned against the wall not ten feet from him and it might as well have been in Seattle.

Nasir had finished his sandwich by the time the agents who had taken him off the street and placed him in this cursed metal chair returned.

"Ready to go?" Agent Walters asked with a friendly smile.

"No!" Nasir stated.

"Yeah, that wasn't really meant to be optional," Agent Walters picked up Nasir's envelope from the table and looked inside to be sure he had everything he needed.

Agent Brown unlocked the cuff around the arm of Nasir's chair. "Stand up," he commanded. Nasir did so and his hands were cuffed behind his back again.

"Let's go," Agent Walters led the way, bending to snatch up Nasir's briefcase as he went. Agent Brown steered Nasir with a hand on his arm as they followed.

Back to the elevators and down to the underground parking garage they went. This time there was no Crown Victoria. A large white van with the Immigration and Customs Enforcement seal on the side waited for them. The sliding rear door was already open. There were multiple rows within caged off from the front two seats.

"Get in," Agent Brown commanded and Nasir did so. There was an iron bar that ran across the van the length of the cage and behind each seat. Nasir quickly learned what this was for as Agent Brown uncuffed his hands and recuffed them around this bar. Nasir was then able to sit comfortably, though he was forced by his cuffs to hold on to the bar. Agent Walters took the wheel and Agent Brown slid Nasir's door closed, then joined his peer in the front.

"Man, I can't believe we have to drive all the way out here at this time of day," Agent Brown complained as Agent Walters started the van and drove them toward the ramp to the street. "My wife is gonna be pissed."

"Mine too," Agent Walters agreed.

"Gentlemen, I do not know why any of this has happened," Nasir had to try. "I know that you have jobs to do and I see that you are good at them. I am not a criminal, or a terrorist, or a danger to anything or anyone. You will see it there in the envelope you have. I have money. I am not like the typical prisoner you must see. If you could somehow see your way clear to letting me go, I will make it very worth your while."

"Buddy," Agent Brown turned around, "attempting to bribe a federal officer is a federal crime. I'm gonna let this go this one time, but open your mouth again and you'll face charges," he turned back around and his counterpart just shook his head.

"Sir, my cell phone is in my briefcase there, as you know. Could you let me make just one phone call? Please," Nasir begged.

"You'll get to make all the phone calls you want at the detention center," Agent Walters stated.

"Now shut the fuck up!" Agent Brown commanded. Nasir bent and rested his forehead on his wrists. How could this have happened? His attorney had assured him that all was progressing as expected. This was very much not expected.

They emerged onto Broadway and took that down just past City Hall. They turned to head onto the Brooklyn Bridge, but veered off onto the Franklin D Roosevelt East River Drive. This divided road was no different from a freeway and they drove along the edge of Manhattan, sometimes directly on the water and sometimes not. They drove past the East River Esplanade and beneath the United Nations building. FDR Drive again went underground beneath the 59th Street Bridge.

Agent Walters continued to drive them northward. Nasir looked longingly down 78th Street as they passed it. He had never seen it from this far end on the river before, and didn't enjoy it now. If only they would let him call Emmett. His very soul cried out to speak with his life partner. But here he was, trapped in the back of this van like a caged animal. He had no idea where he was going or what would happen. Nasir so desperately needed to hear Emmett's voice right now that he had to fight back his tears. He would never give these assholes who had nabbed him off the street right on his own doorstep, the satisfaction of seeing what they had done to him.

They continued on FDR all the way up into Harlem and took the Robert F Kennedy toll bridge off Manhattan. Agent Walters looped them onto the secondary part of the bridge that extended north and merged onto Interstate 87, heading northwest. This part of the journey was anything but scenic as they passed a massive freight rail yard and other industrial areas. The freeway went due north as they drove through the West Bronx and past Mt. Vernon. The view became more pleasant and residential as they passed Yonkers.

Near White Plains the interstate turned almost due west. The Tappan Zee Bridge took them over the Hudson River and the expressway turned northwest again.

"Where are you taking me?" Nasir asked nervously when he could no longer contain himself. They drove on and on and the area became more and more rural.

"Did I tell you to shut up?" Agent Brown made no attempt to hide his irritation.

Central Valley appeared to almost be a city and they exited the interstate to take State Road 17 due west. Almost immediately they were in farmland and Nasir grew even more uneasy. There was a hint of civilization as they drove through the village of Goshen, but that was short lived. They had been driving for an hour and a half when they turned off on Fletcher Street, well past Goshen, in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. The only sign Nasir saw was for the Orange County Sheriff Department and he did not put two and two together. Neither did he realize what the 'Do not pick up hitchhikers in this area' signs indicated.

A little over a mile down several little country roads, a large, sprawling, unattractive facility made of concrete block, emerged from the trees. They pulled up to a manned guard post and Agent Walters put down his window.

"Hey," Agent Walters handed his badge to the uniformed Sheriff's Deputy.

"A little late in the day for this, isn't it?" the officer looked back at Nasir and raised his eyebrows. A man in an expensive suit was not what he typically saw in the back of this van.

"We had to nab him on his way home from work. You know how it is," Agent Walters was casual.

"And the sooner we can dump him off, the sooner we can get our own asses home," Agent Brown added.

"Okay," the deputy handed Agent Walters his badge back. He used his radio to call to the Control Center to open the heavy razor wire topped gate.

"What is this place" Nasir asked in horror as they drove into the compound.

ORANGE COUNTY, NEW YORK

DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS

was displayed in enormous letters on the side of the building.

"Allah, is this a prison?!" Nasir was terrified. "I cannot be in a place like this! I cannot be among these people!"

"You think you're better than anyone in here?" Agent Brown posed.

"I am not a criminal!" Nasir protested.

"Relax, this is just a jail," Agent Brown dismissed.

"Just a jail?!" Nasir was no longer sure he spoke the same language.

"Immigration and Customs Enforcement contracts this facility, among others, to house our detainees," Agent Walters informed as he pulled up to the door.

"Yeah, it's full of people just like you, waiting to be Removed," Agent Brown added. "Of course, most of them are criminals like the rest of the inmates. So I'd watch yourself," he got out and opened Nasir's door.

"No, please. Please!" Nasir splayed his hands and leaned as far into the van as possible. "I cannot be in a place like this! I cannot!"

"Well, you're gonna be," Agent Brown unlocked one of Nasir's cuffs to release him from the metal bar.

"I will get killed! Or worse!" Nasir protested. "Please! I will do anything!"

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back!" Agent Brown barked.

"Please!" Nasir pleaded, close to tears again. How could he have ended up in a place like this?

"I will pepper spray you and we can add Resisting and Failure to Obey Commands to your charges," Agent Brown threatened.

"Get him out of there," Agent Walters stood with Nasir's briefcase and envelope in one hand and his cell in the other reading a text. "I'd like to get home before my kids go to bed."

Nasir reluctantly turned his back to the agent and put his hands behind him. Agent Brown quickly snapped the free cuff around Nasir's other wrist and pulled him out of the van.

"Let's go," Agent Brown steered Nasir toward the door.

"La, Allah," Nasir began to shake. This had to be a nightmare. It just had to be.

"Oh, what have we got here?" a female officer in a dark green uniform rose to her feet from a small desk. She was fairly short with blonde hair tied back in a short ponytail. The gun on her hip made her more formidable than the federal agents. They were almost certainly armed as well, but Nasir couldn't be certain what was under their suit jackets. And here was another drab environment. The walls were a dull gray and the concrete floor a darker gray.

"Fresh meat for ya," Agent Walters set Nasir's briefcase on the desk and handed the deputy his envelope. She knew what form to extract, signed it and added her badge number, pulled the duplicate from the back and handed the top copy back to him.

"Okay, he's all yours. Have a nice night," Agent Walters gave a wave with the paper and walked out with his cohort close on his heels.

"Take a seat and we'll get started," she instructed. Nasir sank into a nearby chair, still handcuffed. He was absolutely as frightened and shell shocked as he looked.

"This your first time?" she asked.

"What?" Nasir was almost started by her question. "My first time at what?"

"This," she gestured around them. "Jail."

"Oh, yes," Nasir admitted.

"Yeah, ya look pretty scared," she observed. "Well, keep your head down, stay outta trouble. Let's see where we're gonna put you," she pulled the remaining contents out of Nasir's file. "Oh, no priors, no arrests, huh?"

"No," Nasir shook his head. "Ma'am, I am not a criminal. I do not know what I am doing here," he made a point to sound as calm as possible.

"Well, ICE brought you here, so," she picked up the phone receiver on the duty desk and dialed an extension as she continued to read. "Hey, Sarge, I got an ICE detainee for in processing and he's a boy, so send me someone, will ya? And he's minimum security," she listened for a moment. "Thanks," she replaced the receiver.

"Ma'am, officer, please, I mean only to show you respect. I do not understand what I am doing here or why any of this has happened," Nasir shook his head. "I have applied for asylum because if I am sent back to my country, I will be killed. America is my home now. My asylum was denied and I am waiting for the appeal. I am not a threat or danger to anyone or anything. I just want to go home to the person I love and go to work during the day. That is all."

"I can't speak to that. Let's get you processed," she produced another form from a drawer. "Oh, Nasir al Qasimi," she transcribed from the ICE form. "That sounds Arabic."

"I am," Nasir confirmed.

"I hope you're okay with a woman asking you questions, 'cause you don't really got a choice here," she stated.

"I do not mind at all," Nasir shook his head. "I have women friends. I am American now."

"Well, evidently not," she held up the form and then continued to write on hers. "Okay, I have to ask you a few health questions. Are you taking any prescription or over the counter medications at this time?"

"No," Nasir answered.

"Any recreational drug use?" she continued.

"Recreational? Oh, no," it took Nasir a moment to understand what that even meant.

"Do you have any drugs, or drug paraphernalia on you right now?" she went on.

"No," Nasir was firm. "I do not do drugs."

"Any recent hospitalizations?" she forged ahead.

"Never," Nasir answered.

"Do you have any food or drug allergies that we need to be aware of?" she ticked down her list.

"None that I know of," Nasir answered and gave a start as an interior door opened. An attractive, young, black corrections officer with a trim goatee and identical uniform walked into the room.

"Jesus, don't be so jumpy," she instructed Nasir.

"Need some help, Jackie?" the male officer asked.

"Take his handcuffs off, will ya, Clayton?" Jackie gestured with her pen.

"Will do," Clayton removed both cuffs as Nasir leaned forward.

"Thank you," Nasir was grateful to finally be out of them.

"Let's keep goin'. Any history of mental illness?" Jackie continued.

"No," Nasir shook his head.

"Have you ever been diagnosed, treated, medicated or observed for depression?" Jackie went on.

"No," Nasir repeated.

"Have you ever had suicidal thoughts or attempted suicide?" Jackie asked.

"No," Nasir shook his head.

"Are you HIV positive?" Jackie continued.

"I am not," Nasir stated.

"Have you been tested for HIV?" Jackie kept on.

"I have," Nasir confirmed.

"Have you been diagnosed with heart disease?" Jackie enquired.

"No," Nasir obediently answered.

"Clayton, will you grab him some clothes?" Jackie bid.

"Sure. I'm guessing he's minimum," Clayton's trained eye could spot someone completely out of his element.

"Very," Jackie slid over the form sent with Nasir.

"Not even an arrest?" Clayton picked up the form. "What's he doing here?"

"Fuck if I know," Jackie gave a shrug.

"You must be one hell of a flight risk," Clayton concluded.

"I am an executive with Loews Hotels," Nasir denied. "You can see my name and picture on the company website. I am not going anywhere."

"Why didn't they put you under house arrest with an ankle bracelet?" Clayton wondered. "It's not cheap, but I'm sure you could afford it."

Nasir's eyebrows slowly rose in shock and disbelief. How could it possibly be that such an option existed and he was just now hearing of it?

"House arrest?! There is such a thing?!" Nasir was beside himself.

"This is the first you heard of that," Jackie rightly concluded.

"Yes! Yes, please, that is what I want. I do not care what it costs!" Nasir expressed. "I am so sorry to have wasted your time!"

"No, that's not how it works, Hun," Jackie gave a resigned face. "It's not up to us. I'm not even sure who it is up to. Might be your Deportation Officer or maybe even the Immigration Judge. Anyway, you'll have to take it up with your Deportation Officer."

"How do I reach him?" Nasir was anxious.

"He'll have gone home by now. You'll have to try him tomorrow. I'll give you a list of the people you can call anytime you want, free of charge, with your handbook," Jackie assured.

"What size do you wear?" Clayton asked.

"Oh, thirty two, thirty five," Nasir answered.

"And shoes?" Clayton added.

"Ten and a half," Nasir informed.

"Be right back," Clayton advised and walked out through the same door he had entered.

"I must stay?" Nasir asked with fear in his eyes.

"I'm afraid so and I just have a couple more questions on here," Jackie almost gave a smile. "Have you ever been diagnosed with haemophilia?"

"That is the bleeding disease? No," Nasir shook his head.

"Do you currently have, or have you ever been treated for, any sexually transmitted disease, including gonorrhea, syphilis or herpes?" Jackie finished.

"Oh, no!" Nasir denied.

"Okay, last one. Have you ever been diagnosed, or treated for, hepatitis A, B or C?" Jackie finished.

"None of them," Nasir shook his head.

"And I'm gonna list you as Muslim," Jackie continued to fill out her form. "Yeah, I see it says so here. And I'll put you down for a no pork diet. Any other health or religious restrictions?"

"No," Nasir stated.

"There. Now let's get your fingerprints done," Jackie rose from the desk. "Follow me."

Nasir obediently followed her through inner door and discovered another officer sitting in a monitoring room. Down the hall was a small room with a camera on a permanent tripod and other equipment on a countertop.

"Give me your right hand," Jackie took Nasir's hand and pressed each of his fingers onto a pad with a clear chemical, and then rolled each finger onto the slot in the machine on the counter.

"I have had my fingerprints taken," Nasir stated, but in no way resisted having them taken again. "I have FBI clearance."

"Well, we're gonna take 'em again, 'cause that's what we do," Jackie did the same with Nasir's left hand. "Okay, let's send that off," she typed a moment on a keyboard that was on a tray that stuck out from the wall. A monitor above was also attached to the wall.

"Shouldn't take too long at this time of day," Jackie assured. "Stand in those footprints," she directed. Nasir did as he was instructed and rubbed his fingers together. The residue was not visible, but he could feel it.

"Look at the camera," Jackie instructed from the computer keyboard. "Okay, turn to the right," she clicked another picture. "And then to the left. Okay, perfect. Let's go back and sit down. I have a bunch of things to go over with you," she led the way.

Nasir obediently followed her back to her desk.

"Okay, here's your handbook," Jackie produced it from a desk drawer. "Everything I am about to go over is in here. Lights out is ten thirty," she looked up at the clock on the wall above her. "It might well be that by the time you get in there. Lights on is five thirty in the morning. You'll get three squares a day in the cafeteria. Your clothing, if Clayton ever fucking gets back here with it, will be dark blue. Dark blue means minimum security. That means non violent offenders. Minor drug offenses, bad checks, DUI, that kind of thing. Bright orange is medium security. Any of them who mix with you have earned it for good behavior, but I'd still steer clear of them if I were you. Dark red is maximum security. Those guys probably killed somebody or tried to. You see someone in dark red, you alert a guard immediately, 'cause one of you ain't where you're supposed to be. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Nasir nodded.

"I'm going to put a bracelet on your wrist with the same color code," Jackie produced one from a drawer and the tool used to fasten them. "It's unlawful to remove this, you understand? Don't get in trouble in here. Give me your right wrist," she instructed. Nasir held out his arm and Jackie affixed the hard plastic bracelet onto him, securing it with the specialized plyers-like tool.

"Okay, phones," Jackie sat back down and dropped the tool back in the drawer.

"Yes, I very much need to make a phone call!" Nasir expressed.

"I'm sure you do," Jackie acknowledged. "There's a phone room in every housing unit. You can get phone cards in the commissary if someone comes and puts money in your inmate account. You can call someone collect, but that's expensive. Here is a list of the people you can call for free, at any time. You just let a guard know. The Immigration Court, any Federal or State Court in which you have a pending case, your Consulate, your attorney, any legal service provider on the list of attorneys who do pro bono work. That list is maintained in the phone rooms. The office of the UN High Commissioner for Refugees and your Deportation Officer," she slipped the paper into Nasir's handbook.

"There are work programs that give you the opportunity to earn money," Jackie moved to the next subject. "Though, you don't look like the kinda guy who will need to do that."

"If I could only make a phone call," Nasir held out his hands.

"You will," Jackie nodded. "And you might still consider it. It would help to pass the time. You could work in the cafeteria, or the library, or the chaplain's office."

The more Nasir learned the more his terror ebbed. He turned sharply, but didn't jump when the door behind him opened again.

"Jesus, where the fuck did you go for that stuff, Hoboken?" Jackie demanded.

"Nothing's organized back there," Clayton complained as he placed the clothes Nasir would have to wear in the empty chair beside Nasir.

"Or you could work in the storage rooms," Jackie gave a wry smile as she gestured. "Anyway, when you get some money on your account, you can spend it in the commissary. The commissary is open from ten to four monday, wednesday and friday. The library is open during all waking hours, every day, except at meal times. You have access to indoor and outdoor recreation for four hours a day, and Dayroom access during all waking hours. You have access to the chaplain during the hours that he's here. He provides a room next to his office for Muslims to pray. Someone can bring you a prayer rug if you want one. You're not wearing a kufi right now, but you can wear one if here if you want. Someone will have to bring you that too. We don't have 'em. And they can only be all white or all black. No fancy ones. No turbans. No scarves."

"I do not wear that," Nasir stated.

"Well, all the other Muslims in here do. I'm just sayin'," Jackie advised. "So, let's talk about visitation. Your family and friends can visit you Tuesday through Saturday from eight to eleven and one to four. They can stay for as little as half an hour or as long as all three, but if they leave the visiting room, they don't come back in, except if they need to use the bathroom. All visits can be contact. That means they can give you a hug and a kiss when they arrive and when they leave. It does not mean holding hands. It does not mean the visit is conjugal. You may hold children, but only once. You hand the child back, you're done. You may not pass the child back and forth. Be advised that you will be subject to a pat down before and after each visit, and you will be watched closely during the visit. If the officer in charge has any reason to suspect that something was passed between you, you may be subject to a search. Do you know what I mean by search?"

"No," Nasir was not entirely certain.

"You will be taken to a private room and you will be stripped naked by a male officer," Jackie gestured toward Clayton. "You do have the option of no contact visits where there will be no pat down and cannot result in a search, if you wish. You may meet with your attorney or a Consular official at any time during waking hours. These meetings will take place in private and will not be observed or monitored in any way, and can last as long as they last. Likewise, phone conversations are subject to monitoring, with the exception of conversations with your attorney or Consulate.

"Anyone can place money into your inmate account," Jackie continued. "I would recommend that they do so in cash so that it is available to you immediately. Checks, even money orders, are delayed for processing. Friends and family can bring you things, but they are very limited and cannot be handed directly to you. Items, such as religious items or books, must be given to the officer at reception. The items will be screened and brought to you. You may have books, but they cannot be brought or sent by family or friends. Books and magazines may only arrive shipped directly from the publisher or bookseller. They will be screened for appropriateness before given to you.

"There is medical staff on site twenty four seven. You need to see a doctor for any reason, you let a guard know and you will be taken to Medical," Jackie went on. "Okay, let's talk about hygiene. You look like a pretty clean guy, but I need to be clear. You will be expected to take a shower at least once a day. You don't take showers, you could end up in psych evaluation in the Special Management Unit. You know what Special Management Unit means?"

"No," Nasir shook his head.

"It's solitary. You talk to no one. You see no one. Your food is delivered though a slot at the bottom of the cell door. No Human contact. You stay in that closed cell, alone. Got it? That's no fun," Jackie explained. "You will be issued a mattress, a pillow and a blanket. You will be issued two sheets, one pillowcase and one towel. Clayton went to New Jersey," she looked up at him, "to get you two long sleeved shirts, two pair of pants, two pair of underwear and socks, and one pair of shoes."

"I am wearing underwear and socks," Nasir waved a hand.

"You can't keep your own," Jackie informed. "Everything that you have on, with the one exception of the bracelet I just put on you, will be inventoried and placed into your property. Everyone wears the same thing and that includes skivvies. You will be issued a comb, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a tube of skin lotion. You get one tube of skin lotion a month, so don't use it all to jack off."

"Oh!" Nasir raised his eyebrows. He was accustomed to such frank language from Seth, but not this officer.

"Exactly," Jackie was satisfied that he got the message. "Soap and shampoo are in dispensers in the showers. Now, here's the really important things. Don't get into trouble. There are many prohibited acts and they are all listed in this handbook," she put her hand on it. "I couldn't possibly cover them all. They run the gambit from capital offences like murder, to smoking in a non designated area. Clearly the penalties run the gambit as well, from a reprimand to prosecution. Here's an important one. Refusal to obey the order of a staff member or officer, or providing a false statement, can get you placed in Special Management for seventy two hours, loss of privileges like the commissary, movies, recreation, library, or even get you reassigned to other more secure housing, with other less savory characters."

"I understand," Nasir nodded solemnly. He resolved to do absolutely everything he was told.

"Good. Okay, we're almost done," Jackie pressed on. "I need to cover some rights. You have the right to protection from personal abuse, corporal punishment, unnecessary or excessive use of force, personal injury, disease, property damage and harassment. You have the right to freedom from discrimination based on race, religion, national origin, gender, sexual orientation, physical or mental ability, or political beliefs. You have the right to file and pursue a grievance in accordance with the procedures provided in the detainee handbook, without fear of retaliation. You have the right to correspond with persons or organizations, consistent with the safety, security and orderly operation of this facility.

"This next part I want to go over in very careful detail," Jackie looked Nasir in the eye and then picked up the paper to read it. "While you are detained by the Department of Homeland Security, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, you have a right to be safe and free from sexual abuse and sexual assault. You are to report any attempted abuse or assaults to a facility staff member, such as your Housing Unit Officer, a healthcare provider, the Duty Sergeant, or your Deportation Officer. All sexual contact, including consensual sexual contact, between detainees is prohibited and subject to administrative and disciplinary sanctions."

"You do not need to worry about that," Nasir assured. The very last thing on his mind in this place was hooking up.

"Still, I need you to understand how serious this is. Sexual conduct of any kind is a serious infraction. It can land you in solitary for up to 30 days and you will not go back to your housing unit," Jackie was clear. "We don't play with this stuff. We take sexual assault just as seriously. I'm going to keep reading. Sexual abuse and assault is defined as: one or more detainees, by force, coercion, or intimidation, engaging in, or attempting to engage in, the following: contact between the penis and the vagina or anus; contact between the mouth and the penis, vagina or anus; penetration, however slight, of the anal or genital opening of another person by a hand, or finger, or by any object; touching of the genitalia, anus, groin, breast, inner thigh or buttocks, either directly or through clothing, with an intent to abuse, humiliate, harass, degrade or arouse, or to gratify the sexual desire of any person; threats, intimidation, or other actions or communications by one or more detainees, aimed at coercing or pressuring another detainee to engage in a sexual act.

"It is also very much prohibited for any staff member or officer to engage in any type of sexual contact with a detainee," Jackie stressed. "Any sexual conduct of this nature, even if consensual, will be considered sexual assault and the perpetrator will be prosecuted. Sexual assault is never the victim's fault. So, if you know the warning signs and stay alert, it can go a long way to avoiding a problem. Carry yourself in a confident manner. Many attackers choose victims who look like they would not fight back or who they think are emotionally weak. Do not accept gifts or favors from others. Most gifts or favors come with special demands that the giver expects you to accept. Do not accept an offer from another detainee to be your protector. Find a staff member with whom you feel comfortable discussing your fears and concerns. And be sure to report your concerns."

"I feel comfortable with you," Nasir offered.

"That's nice, but you'll never see me again," Jackie advised. "I work in processing. Maybe I'll see ya when you get out. Who knows?" she pulled out another form. "We're going to start the inventory process now. This is Louis Vuitton, right?"

"It is," Nasir confirmed.

"Louis Vuitton briefcase," Jackie wrote it down. "Okay, what have we got in here? A cell phone. A wallet. What kind of leather is this?"

"It is ostrich skin," Nasir informed.

"Ostrich?" Jackie had never heard of that.

"My best friend gave it to me," Nasir smiled as he thought of Garrett.

"I don't care where ya got it," Jackie pulled everything out of Nasir's wallet and itemized each thing. "Okay. Oh, fancy pen. What kind of pen is this?"

"It is a Visconti," Nasir stated.

"A set of keys," Jackie counted them. "Seven keys and a fob on a Mercedes key ring. You drive a Mercedes? What is this symbol? I've never seen this."

"I have a McLaren," Nasir answered.

"A McLaren? What is that? Is that the real fancy sports car, the really expensive one?" Jackie asked.

"It is," Nasir confirmed.

"Jesus, you're a lucky man," Jackie commented.

"I do not feel very lucky right now," Nasir confessed.

"No, I imagine not," Jackie extracted the files Nasir had in his briefcase and inventoried them. "Anything in your pockets at all?" she pointed with her pen.

"No. They took everything from me," Nasir answered.

"Not quite everything," Jackie pointed to Nasir's hand.

"Oh," Nasir looked down on his right hand and gazed at his wedding ring. "No," he agreed.

"Is that a wedding ring? Jackie enquired. "I ask because special exceptions can be made for a wedding ring. We won't deprive you of something so personally meaningful, but I do want you to consider this carefully. That looks like a really nice ring and it will make you a target."

"Ah," Nasir slowly pulled his ring off his finger. It was the thing that meant the very most to him, second only to Emmett himself. To be parted from it made him want to cry.

"It'll be safer locked up with us," Jackie stated. Nasir slowly reached out and put it on her desk.

"One gold wedding band," Jackie wrote it down and slipped it into a small plastic bag which she then placed into a zippered compartment in his briefcase. "This is all your property apart from your clothing then?"

"Yes," Nasir confirmed.

"Sign here," Jackie presented the property form to Nasir and handed him a pen. Nasir signed the form and set the pen down.

"Okay, Officer Jackson here is going to take you for a pat down. Then you'll shower and change," Jackie informed.

Clayton picked up the pile of clothes he had brought and opened the inner door. "Let's go," he instructed. Nasir obediently followed him.

"Down the hall," Clayton directed and made Nasir walk ahead of him. Nasir was taller than Clayton, but the officer was trained and stocky. There was no way Nasir could overpower the black man even if it had occurred to him to try. He had staged an apprehension by the Security Police in the desert in Dubai, but this was real. And it was far more scary.

"Right inside here," Clayton opened a door and stepped back for Nasir to walk in ahead of him. This small room had another desk and two chairs. Clayton sat the clothes he carried on the desk.

"Put your hands against that wall and stand with your feet spread apart," Clayton directed. Nasir did so and the officer squatted down behind him. Clayton checked each of Nasir's ankles and shoes, and ran his hands up each of Nasir's legs to his crotch.

"Take off your suit jacket," Clayton instructed. Nasir slipped it off and Clayton took it. He checked the lining, pockets and collar very carefully before dropping it on the extra chair.

"Okay, hands on your head," Clayton directed and ran his hands over Nasir's back, sides, chest, and up each arm. "Good," he sat down at the desk and pulled out another property form and a large, clear plastic ziplock bag that he shook out. "Take off your shoes and place them in here."

Nasir did as he was instructed.

"Get undressed and place each article of clothing separately into the bag so I can write them down," Clayton directed. Nasir started with his necktie and belt. His dress shirt he just stuffed into the bag, but his suit pants and jacket he folded as best he could.

"Socks too, but you can leave on your underwear," Clayton gestured. Nasir peeled off his back dress socks and was left in his snug trunks.

"Take a pair of underwear," Clayton pointed with his pen to the pile of clothes he had brought in. "Take a towel," he pointed to a rack on the wall. "Go through there, leave the door open, and take a shower. Put on the fresh underwear and put the ones you have on in the bag. And if you have an urge to jerk it, this is the last privacy you're gonna get in here."

"Yes, Sir," Nasir obeyed, though the officer's words filled him with trepidation. The inner room was even smaller and really no more than a big shower stall with a drain in the middle of the floor. There was a chair in here was well, just inside the door, and Nasir placed his towel and the underwear he was to wear, on the chair. He pulled down his own underwear and added them to the pile. Nasir hadn't taken a shower since he was with Emmett before he left for the airport in Seattle yesterday. He very much looked forward to a shower, but not under these circumstances. And under these circumstances, there was no way he was even going to get an erection, much less get off.

Nasir washed his hair and showered thoroughly, and was glad of it. He shut the water off and toweled himself and his hair as dry as best he could. He put on the prison issue tighty whities, which did not fit well at all, picked everything else up and walked out to where Clayton was still seated at the desk.

"Put your underwear in the bag and get dressed," Clayton directed. Nasir did so and Clayton sealed and locked the bag. He put on the white socks and the dark blue prison shirt and pants, both of which fit him surprisingly well. The prison issue black boat shoes had no laces and though his pants had belt loops, no prisoner was allowed a belt. Nasir tucked the shirt into his pants as it seemed the right thing to do.

"Okay, sign here," Clayton handed Nasir the pen. Nasir did so and Clayton rose.

"Okay, from here on out, you carry your own clothes," Clayton picked up the bag of Nasir's personal clothes and Nasir scooped up the rest of his prison clothes. "Back to processing," he opened the door and waited for Nasir to go first.

At her desk, Jackie was punching Nasir's pictures out of the cardstock on which they had been printed.

"We're just about done," Jackie gave a genuine smile. "You can sit back down," she gestured when she saw Nasir hesitate. Jackie stapled Nasir's pictures to his file folder. She affixed another to a small card and passed it through a laminating machine. "Okay, this is your religious meal card. You will have to show it at every meal," Jackie explained. Nasir took the card and looked it over. In addition to his picture, it bore his name, Alien number, the words MUSLIM - NO PORK, and Jackie's signature.

"Thank you," Nasir said meekly.

"Sign here that you have received a copy of the Detainee Handbook," Jackie gave him another form. "You speak English real well. Do you read English?"

"I can read English," Nasir signed.

"Okay, good," Jackie produced a folder and placed the handbook and Nasir's copies of the forms he had signed into it. "Do you understand your rights and responsibilities as I have explained them to you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Nasir answered.

"Do you have any questions?" Jackie asked finally.

"I need to call my husband," Nasir was ready to beg on his knees if it would help. "I need to talk to him. Please, will you let me call him?"

"Looks like you'll get down there in time to make a call," Jackie looked up at the clock again. "Is he a US citizen?"

"He is, yes," Nasir confirmed.

"Okay. A word to the wise about visitors," Jackie warned. "They have to show government issued photo ID. Anyone subject to immigration issues who comes here to see you, might wind up with immigration issues of their own. You hear what I'm sayin'?"

"Yes, ma'am," Nasir nodded.

"Time to go," Clayton opened the door.

"Good luck," Jackie bid.

"Thank you," Nasir was polite. He walked ahead of Clayton, at the officer's direction, down another corridor deeper into the building. Nasir walked almost on autopilot. With each set of barred gates they passed through, the reality of jail became ever more real. Nasir was sure his face betrayed every bit of shock and horror that he felt, but he was powerless to stop it. Each section they passed through looked exactly like every other, a dull gray on the walls and darker gray on the concrete floors.

It was a fairly long walk to Unit G. This door was made of framed unbreakable glass and slid aside to admit them into the Unit Control Room. There were two uniformed officers at the console beneath the windows overlooking the sprawling Day Room. One of them rose as Nasir and his escort walked in.

"This is Officer Ashcraft, your PM Housing Unit Officer," Clayton informed.

"This him? Yeah, he looks like an Arab," Officer Ashcraft observed with a nod as if Nasir were not standing right in front of him. He looked to be around forty, but in excellent shape and had a kind looking face, if not words.

"Yeah, he does," the other officer agreed. "You want Nafie?"

"Yeah," the officer in charge spoke to the man still seated behind him.

The officer at the console pulled the microphone on a long stalk toward his face as he switched it on. "Nafie Ali, report to the control room."

"I'll leave you to it," Clayton gave a wave and walked out to return to the front of the jail.

"You're obviously a first timer. It's written all over your face. Okay, first timer, six things to remember in my unit," Officer Ashcraft began his lecture. "Don't gamble, don't get into fights, don't do drugs, and be where you are supposed to be when you are supposed to be there. I like an orderly Count. Take a shower every day. I don't wanna smell you stink. And no fucking. You got me?"

"Yes, Sir," Nasir nodded.

"Here's Nafie," the other guard touched the button to slide open the door between the control room and the common room.

"Nafie," Officer Ashcraft motioned for the man to join them in the control room. He was a squat, little, older, very dark skinned black man with a white goatee. He was dressed like Nasir in dark blue and wore a knitted, black kufi on his head.

"Nafie Ali Nafie, this is Nasir al Qasimi," Officer Ashcraft introduced.

"Hello," Nasir tried to smile. He wasn't sure if he should be glad to see another Muslim, or fearful. Other Muslims would think he was one of them, until they learned that he was gay. Nafie just nodded.

"Nafie is a trustee and he'll get you acclimated to my unit," Officer Ashcraft informed. "You'll have the bunk above his," he turned to the other guard. "Give me the key to four thirteen."

The other guard rummaged in a cabinet for a moment and tossed the key over.

"This is the key to your locker. Don't lose it," Officer Ashcraft dropped it on the pile of clothes in Nasir's arms. "We will charge you for another key. Here's the supply room keys," he picked up a heavy ring of keys from the console and handed them to Nafie. "Get him set up."

Nafie only nodded and walked out of the control room. Nasir wasn't sure if he was meant to follow.

"Go!" Officer Ashcroft gestured. Nasir rushed after the much shorter man.

"Hey, Nafie, don't be such a chatterbox!" Officer Ashcroft called after them. He found himself pretty funny and they could hear him chuckle before the door slid closed between them.

The Day Room was filled with inmates, all of whom eyed Nasir as he followed after Nafie. It was a very large space that was actually carpeted with cheap, industrial carpet squares of exceptionally low quality. The room had tables and chairs, sofas and large screen televisions built into the walls. There were ping pong and foosball tables. There were even potted trees.

Nafie stopped halfway through the room and turned to Nasir. "Forgive me. I should have greeted you properly," he said in heavily accented English. "Assalaam alaikum, brother."

"Wa alaikum assalaam," Nasir responded automatically.

"Follow me," Nafie took up again. He led the way across the Day Room and into a long, wide corridor. As Nasir followed he looked into the wide open doorways into large, long rooms filled with rows of bunk beds that reminded him of military boot camp accommodations. Nasir gasped in horror at seeing this. He had originally imagined being trapped in a cell with some violent criminal, only to be relieved when he was told he would be with this small and kindly looking old man. But that had been short lived. Now he saw that it was just an enormous, though well secured, dorm. He would be locked in at night with sixty to eighty other men and the thought was terrifying.

"We are in here," Nafie led the way into the second dorm on the right. Just inside were several large, round tables, with their curving benches bolted to the floor. The rows of bunks began after them. The second set of bunks on the right was theirs. Nafie walked around to the head of the bunks where two side by side lockers were attached.

"This is your locker," Nafie gestured. "Like so," he took the key from atop the clothes Nasir held and opened it for him. "Put your clothes," Nafie instructed. "Anything that you buy from the commissary, keep locked up in here or you will find it stolen. The guards can search anything at any time. Do not have something in here or on your person that you should not. The whole unit could lose privileges and that would get you hurt."

"I understand," Nasir nodded as he stashed his clothes and papers.

"Close it. Take the key and keep it around your wrist. Like so," Nafie held up his left wrist to show his own. Each key had a small bungee attached for that exact purpose.

"I will get your sheets, blanket and towel," Nafie turned and walked away. Nasir watched him go back out of the dorm and felt suddenly very alone and vulnerable. There were other inmates or detainees, he had no way of knowing which, milling about. He could see that the bathroom for the dorm was at the back.

"Sup?" a voice behind him nearly made Nasir jump out of his skin. "Ho! Take it easy, Dog, take it easy," a muscular, white, punk, thug wannabe that Nasir guessed to be several years his junior, gave a big, friendly smile and put a hand on Nasir's shoulder. He had cut the sleeves off of his shirt to display to everyone arms that Nasir could see were easily as strong as Emmett's.

"Check it, I'm Marshal. This here Skinny Pete and Cujo," Marshal gestured with his head to the two henchmen with him. "Yo, Dog, you gotta roll wit us. Ain't nobody fuck wit us. Know what I'm sayin'? You roll by yaself, you gonna git yo ass kicked. You hungry? Git this muthafucka some chips n'shit," he bid and one of his henchmen handed Nasir two candy bars and a bag of chips.

"Oh, thank you very much," Nasir accepted them. "That is most kind of you."

"Yeah, that's it, that's it," Marshal smiled and nodded. "Whatcha name, Dog?"

"My name? Nasir. I am Nasir," he introduced himself. "And I am most pleased to meet you."

"Yeah, yeah," Marshal seemed pleased as well. "Ain't nobody gonna fuck wichoo. You one of us now. You be aight wit us. You feel me?" he patted Nasir in the chest with his knuckles.

"Yes," Nasir nodded. "Thank you. Thank you very much," Nasir was sincere.

"Aight, aight," Marshal sauntered away and his henchmen followed. Nasir placed the chips and candy on his bunk. The vinyl mattress and pillow were already present. He breathed a sigh of relief. Nasir imagined this would be a terrifying and dangerous place, but so far everyone he met had only been friendly and had even offered to look out for him.

Nafie was back in another few minutes with Nasir's toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, lotion and linens. Though linen was a far cry from what this was. The blanket was almost stiff and the sheets felt like sandpaper.

"Where did you get those?" Nafie asked casually as he handed the items over to Nasir.

"Those men...," Nasir began.

"Do not point," Nafie pulled Nasir's arm down. "Pointing, or even staring, at an inmate can get you beaten."

"Oh. I did not know. Thank you," Nasir expressed.

"Take those things and give them back to him," Nafie directed. "Tell him that you appreciate his offer, but that you cannot accept it. Do it now."

"But, he was most kind," Nasir didn't get it.

"He will expect oral sex, or worse, in the shower, for him and his men," Nafie revealed.

"Oh!" Nasir was wide eyed. He would never have imagined such an ulterior motive. And his mouth, or worse, was not for sale. Nasir swallowed his fear, picked up the chips and candy bars, and steeled himself as he walked to the table where Marshal and crew held court.

"Naw, naw, naw, Dog," Marshal waved his hand when he saw what Nasir was doing.

"I am very sorry," Nasir began. "I appreciate your offer, but I cannot accept these things. Again, I am very sorry," he set them on the table and, though it terrified him to do so, turned his back on Marshal et al, and walked away. Nasir had to force himself to breathe normally as he headed back to his bunk.

Nafie nodded as Nasir returned. "Make your bed. It will be lights out soon."

Nasir used one of the sheets and tucked it under the thin mattress with shaking hands. He tucked only the one end of the top sheet and blanket, and put the pillow case on the pillow. And turned just in time to see Marshal and company return.

"You betta check yaself, old man," Marshal warned Nafie. He knew perfectly well who had thwarted his plan to make Nasir his bitch. Nafie just stood and defiantly looked up at the much bigger and stronger man. Marshal finally nodded and moved along with his men.

"I have placed you in danger," Nasir thought he understood.

"You have not," Nafie assured. "I am a trustee. If he wants his laundry or mail he will leave me alone. Besides, we are not the only Muslims in this dorm."

"Oh," Nasir understood.

"Count!" the announcement blasted over the speakers. "Line up!"

"Come. We stand here," Nafie moved to the foot of their bunks and Nasir followed.

"What do we do?" Nasir asked.

"We just stand here and wait. We must be counted," Nafie explained. "When they say to count, this is where you must be. Anyone missing will cause a lock down until he is located. Anyone late is punished."

"Ah," Nasir nodded. Several men in kufis nodded to both Nafie and Nasir as they walked by enroute to the foot of their own bunks.

Minutes passed during which all the men assigned to this dorm just stood idly and waited.

"Are they coming?" Nasir asked.

"They must count each dorm. They will come," Nafie assured.

"Will you show me the telephone room? I must make a call," Nasir stated.

"I will show you, though, it will have to wait until morning. After Count is lights out," Nafie informed.

"Allah!" Nasir looked heavenward. "I am expecting a very important call and he will not be able to reach me!"

"I do not want to know to whom you speak or why," Nafie stated. Nasir was the first Gulf State Aarb Nafie had ever met. He was prepared to embrace him as a Muslim brother, but if there were anything terror related going on, he did not want to know about it.

Nasir had no awareness of Nafie's reasoning, but he wasn't about to risk losing Nafie's guidance and risk the condemnation of the other Muslims for admitting the truth. He didn't dare tell them that he needed desperately to hear the voice of the man he loved, that Emmett would not be able to reach him and would worry.

The officers eventually made it through to count them, but, as Nafie explained, they still had to stand and wait because there could be no movement at all until Count was concluded.

"Lights out," the announcement was immediately followed by the lights going out and two huge barred gates closing across their dorm to isolate them. There was not complete blackness in the dorm, for which Nasir was grateful.

"Goodnight," Nafie began to unbutton his shirt. Nasir just stood and watched the older man until he realized that was probably not a good thing to do. He looked up at his bunk. How would he ever be able to sleep up on this thing, in here? But he had to try or invite attention he did not want. Nasir climbed up via the built in rungs at the foot, and crawled up into place. A quick glance at his surroundings and he discovered that most men were stripping to their underwear and some were even getting naked. Nasir had no where near that kind of confidence and quickly slipped under his sheet and blanket. It was none too warm in this place anyway.

Slowly the place grew more quiet as the other men settled. Nasir still had his shoes on even, but he didn't care. He would never be able to relax enough to sleep in this place. He wracked his brain to imagine how this could have happened. Why had his attorney not warned him about this possibility? Would he truly have to be in here, somewhere in rural New York State, isolated from the people he loved, until his asylum was settled? And if his attorney did not know that this might happen, how could Nasir believe him when he said that they would prevail at appeal? Had he spent his last night in Emmett's arms? And that thought caused his tears to spill. Nasir put his hands over his face. He knew he could not let anyone see or hear him cry.

It was just after ten thirty, pacific time, when Emmett stripped down for bed. He didn't look forward to getting into this bed without his husband again, but he did look very forward to hearing his voice. Emmett pulled down the bed and put out the light. He slipped naked into their bed and smiled as he reached for his cell. A smile that faded when Nasir's voicemail immediately picked up. Emmett tried again and again his call went straight to voicemail. Emmett frowned. It wouldn't be the first time Nasir had let his cell die on him. Sometimes he gabbed with Garrett to the point where he had ten seconds of battery life left. Emmett tried the house phone in the apartment. There was no voicemail or answering machine on that line and it just rang and rang. Of course, it was one thirty in the morning in New York and Emmett knew that Nasir would be in bed. And he had to be damn tired after spending the previous night on the red eye flight. Emmett knew there was no land line extension in the master bedroom. There were others on that floor, but as tired as Emmett knew his husband had to be, it wouldn't wake him up.

Emmett set his cell aside and briefly considered calling Edward. Of one thing he could be absolutely certain, wherever Edward had laid his head for the night, Jasper was right beside him. And Jasper had only a few hours of his night left with his early job. Emmett didn't want to disturb them. He also thought about calling Seth. Seth was almost certainly still up, but if Seth knew something, he would have already called, or come down. Emmett resolved to wait. When Nasir woke up, and saw what happened, he would plug his phone in and he would call. Emmett rolled over and ran his arms up under Nasir's pillow as he buried his face in it. His husband had been home and shared this bed with him for nine consecutive nights. The bed and especially his pillow, smelled of him. Emmett took a deep breath through his nose and took comfort in the scent of the man he loved.

"I love you, Baby," Emmett murmured to Nasir's pillow and closed his eyes.

Seth stood in the living room of his home and looked out onto the terrace through the French doors. He could see out fairly well as he stood in the dark and there was illumination outside from the lights of the city. He wore his plush, white terrycloth robe that Garrett had brought home for him from the St Regis hotel. Seth stood for a long while and just stared out at the terrace. After twenty minutes of intense, but fruitless scrutiny of thin air, Seth turned around and stared into the dark living room. After only a few minutes of that, he moved to one of the sofas and sat down indian style.

It was another fifteen minutes before Garrett had finished what he was doing in the study, had found Seth absent from their bedroom, and come looking for him.

"Sweetness?" Garrett asked as he walked into the dark living room. He wore a loose tee shirt and sleep pants.

"I'm here, Honey," Seth answered.

"What are you doing sitting out here in the dark?" Garrett moved toward his husband's voice and the white shape on one of the sofas.

"I have an uneasy feeling again," Seth confessed.

"You do?" Garrett was concerned. He sat down beside his husband and took Seth's hand.

"Did you talk to Nasir today?" Seth enquired.

"I did," Garrett confirmed.

"He's okay then?" Seth asked.

"He's fine," Garrett affirmed. Seth just nodded and stared out at nothing for a moment.

"Lay your head in my lap," Garrett bid as he moved away just a bit to give Seth the space to do so. Seth said nothing, but did not hesitate to stretch out on the sofa with his head in his husband's lap. Garrett ran his fingers though Seth's beautiful long hair. He spread Seth's robe open to give him access to the dark, smooth chest.

"That feels nice, Honey," Seth closed his eyes and gave a sigh as his husband's fingers gently caressed his chest.

"What gives you a bad feeling?" Garrett asked as his fingers moved over an even darker nipple.

"I don't know," Seth confessed.

"It's something," Garrett stated.

"It's something, but I don't know what," Seth spoke and Garrett could see how much it bothered his husband to know, and yet be blind to the cause of it.

"You were dead on the money last time," Garrett observed.

"Last time I called all over town and bugged everyone and made a fool of myself," Seth complained.

"No one thought that for one second," Garrett stated with conviction.

"I even called Justin," Seth revealed.

"Did you?" Garrett smiled. "He wasn't bothered by your call, surely."

"No," Seth agreed. "He was a bit surprised that I was up before you. He told me I should go wake you up with my lips."

"Did he? My brother is most thoughtful," Garrett smiled. His cock twitched under Seth's head at the thought.

"Maybe that was my idea. I might be remembering that wrong," Seth confessed.

"Whose ever idea it was, your lips are always welcome on me, wherever you care to place them," Garrett assured.

"Even when you're talking to the Chief Most High Bank Person?" Seth smiled up at his husband.

"Wherever and whenever," Garrett pledged.

"I'll hold you to that," Seth threatened. "The next time you have an important client in your office, I'm just going to show up and walk right in. Don't mind me, I'll just be under the desk. Don't let me interrupt the meeting."

"How's tuesday afternoon, two o'clock?" Garrett asked as he pulled apart the tied belt of Seth's robe and opened the robe completely. The King slept peacefully over Seth's hip. Garrett ran his hand appreciatively down Seth's trim body and cupped his ample balls.

"Mmm," Seth closed his eyes again. "Okay," he agreed. And if his husband wanted to fondle him, he was perfectly willing.

"Would you like me to call my brother right now?" Garrett asked. "Would that make you feel better?"

"They're probably asleep by now," Seth surmised. "If something were wrong with Mel or the baby, we would have heard."

"I'm sure we would have," Garrett agreed as he massaged the stones in his hand with very gentle fingers. In the dark living room, Garrett did not immediately notice that his King began to wake.

"It's just a little weird thinking about your brother while you're fondling me," Seth expressed.

"I can see how it would be," Garrett agreed. He wasn't about to let go of Seth's nuts, so he changed the subject. "We know Emmett is fine. We just saw him an hour ago."

"Okay, that's even more weird," Seth held up a hand.

"It's more strange to think about Emmett than my brother?" Garrett didn't get it.

"Absolutely it is. Under no circumstances would I fool around with Emmy. He's my brother," Seth explained, "but if I were I single, I would blow your brother in a red minute."

"Oh you would?" Garrett laughed.

"He's a Thompson. You're all hot," Seth stated.

"Even my father?" Garrett queried.

"That's the cock that made you. I would worship it," Seth assured.

"I see," Garrett laughed again. "Did you blow a lot of straight guys in your single days? I don't recall you mentioning that."

"No," Seth confessed. "Straight guys won't hold still long enough in my experience."

"I see," Garrett nodded. "Most uncooperative of them."

"Mm, hm," Seth agreed and just relaxed under his husband's loving touch. He spread his legs wider to give Garrett better access and Garrett began to gently massage his perineum as well. "That feels good, Honey," Seth expressed as his snake continued to grow. He felt his husband's own hardness press against the back and side of his head. "Oh, something's come up," Seth brought up a hand to grope his husband's erection through the soft cotton. "Something yummy," he lifted his head to let Garrett's erection spring up fully. "Is your fly buttoned?"

"I thought I wasn't allowed to button my fly when I wear these," Garrett recited Seth's rule.

"You're right. You're not. Good boy for remembering," Seth praised. "Now pull your cock and balls out though your fly, please."

"Like this," Garrett had to use both hands to do it.

"Perfect," Seth laid his head back in Garrett's lap and smiled as he held his face against his husband's bone. Garrett immediately returned his hand to fondling and massaging Seth's orbs.

"Mmm," Seth gave his husband's hard penis a kiss. "He loves me."

"Every inch of you," Garrett affirmed.

"Umm," Seth rubbed his face on Garrett's cock and planted wet kisses on Garrett's sensitive cum tube.

"If you excite him too much, he will want inside you," Garrett warned.

"Oh. Is that a danger?" Seth asked and planted another kiss.

"Very much so," Garrett confirmed.

"I better be careful then," Seth concluded. He stuck out his tongue and ran it up his husband's cum tube. Garrett sucked a breath in through his teeth. And noticed that his King was now fully awake. He let go of Seth's balls and moved his hand up to wrap it around the long, fat python.

"Hmm," Seth kept his tongue on Garrett's penis and lazily moved it back and forth as Garrett began to slowly stroke him.

"Oh, Sweetness, that feels good," Garrett luxuriated in the feel of his husband's tongue on him for a moment while he moved Seth's loose skin up and down his long, fat post. He knew he was starting to leak and was sure that Seth would be too. And he could not resist. Garrett leaned over and slouched just a bit to reach his prize.

"Ugh," Seth felt his husband's lips enclose the head of his snake. He felt Garrett's tongue move sensuously through his weeping slit.

"Hmph," Garrett moaned to the python whose head he held in his mouth as Seth's lips attached to his cum tube. Garrett made love to his husband's glans with his lips and tongue as he continued to stoke the big dick. Seth licked his lips and used them along with his tongue to massage Garrett's penis in exactly the right place. Tiny little turns of his head was all it took for him to relax into Garrett's mouth and hand, and make love to him at the same time.

Garrett brought his other hand to masturbate the dark cock into his mouth and reached down to grip Seth's nuts.

Seth whined to his husband's bone as he slipped his lips and tongue up and down against it. This was spontaneous and felt so very good. He wanted it to last as long as possible, but the way Garrett's lips massaged his head and his tongue curled around it, coupled with the way Garrett stroked him and massaged his balls made Seth ache for release.

"Mmph," Garrett felt the pace of Seth's lips and tongue increase as they slipped up and down against his sensitive cum tube. And he knew exactly why Seth did that. It was the same anytime they were in a proper 69. When he made love to his husband's cock and made Seth curl his toes, Seth sucked him faster and harder. It let him know that Seth wanted his cum. It let him know that Seth wanted to give him his. Garrett picked up the pace of his hand on the big python's neck as he suckled on it's head. It was very tempting to stop this, shed his clothes and get into a proper 69 position with his husband and lover. He longed to plunge his cock into Seth's mouth and take Seth down his throat. The position they found themselves in had just sprung up organically and it felt too damn good to stop.

Seth loved running his lips and tongue up and down his husband's bone. Any time he could play with Garrett's hard cock was a good time. Garrett was seeping so copiously at this point that his foreskin was full of his ooze, his tee shirt was wet from it and it ran down his shaft. When Seth was able to taste it, he whimpered, and it only spurred him on. Garrett's own precum only made Seth's lips that much more slick as they slipped up and down the sensitive side of his throbbing cock.

The flow of Seth's own syrup onto Garrett's tongue was constant. The taste of his husband's sweet precum only made Garrett crave Seth's milky essence all the more. He felt the big cock throb in his hand and mouth. He felt Seth's stones tightening up. Garrett was nearly out of his mind from Seth's own lips on his straining rod and increased his pace yet again.

"Hmm, Mmm!" Seth cried to his husband's dick. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hold his body still as his husband propelled him toward orgasm.

"Umph!" Garrett moaned to Seth's throbbing, leaking penis as his own muscles tightened. He involuntarily lifted his hips as he braced for his own impending release. Each wanted to cry out the other's name, but was unwilling to free his lips to do so.

Seth focused all his energy on maintaining the contact and pace of his lips and tongue as they slipped up and down Garrett's cock. He writhed on the sofa in his open robe, under his husband's ministrations. He could feel the muscles of Garrett's legs tremble and knew they were both on the brink.

Garrett's top lip slipped over Seth's frenulum relentlessly. Garrett knew how to play his body like a finely tuned instrument. Seth's entire body quivered and Garrett knew the juice he craved with his very soul was about to be his. He maintained the pace of his lips, tongue and hands even as he danced on the very edge of orgasm himself.

In the end, it was Garrett who lost it first. Seth felt Garrett harden even further. Garrett's cum tube expanded against his lips and how Seth would never know, but he summoned the wit to grab his husband's post, lift and turn his head even further, and take Garrett in his mouth just as he erupted.

"Ungph!" Garrett cried out as he lost it in Seth's mouth a split second before Seth's body convulsed and his mouth filled with Seth's seed. Garrett slowed down, but continued to stroke Seth through his orgasm and thrilled to each gush of Seth's cream even as he unloaded in Seth's mouth.

Seth massaged Garrett's discharging weapon with his lips as he slowly sucked his husband through his orgasm. His strength poured out of his cock with his jizz and his muscles turned to jelly. Seth gathered every ounce of remaining energy to keep his head in place and suck Garrett's cum from him.

Garrett slowed his hand even further as he milked Seth for every drop he had to give. Seth sucked Garrett slowly until his strength finally gave out entirely. He pulled off of Garrett's still hard bone and let his head drop into Garrett's lap.

"Ugh!" Seth closed his eyes and relaxed fully on the sofa, in Garrett's lap, and in Garrett's mouth. Garrett at last let Seth go with a last pass of his tongue through Seth's slit and a wet kiss on the python's eye.

"You can say that again," Garrett leaned back and relaxed against the sofa.

"That felt so good, Honey," Seth lifted the back of a hand to Garrett's chest.

"It did," Garrett agreed. "I thought I was going to lose it all over myself for a moment."

"I wouldn't let one drop of you go to waste," Seth assured.

Both men took several minutes to catch their breath.

"Should we think about going to bed?" Garrett suggested.

"Can you carry me?" Seth asked.

"I think I can barely make it myself," Garrett rubbed Seth's chest again. "You know, when I opened your robe, it was my intention to lick your nipples."

"The King is grateful that you gave him your attention instead," Seth smiled.

"You're so fucking beautiful, what can I do?" Garrett posited.

"It's hard for me to keep my lips off you too," Seth told Garrett what he well knew.

Seth and Garrett relaxed on the sofa for a good while before they mustered the strength to go to bed.