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Summary
The cell stank of sweat and something sour, the thin mattress barely enough space for one body, let alone two. Frank didn't care. He crowded Charlie back against the wall, their mouths crashing together again, Charlie's fingers knotting in Frank's hair to yank his head to the side. "They check the locks every hour," Charlie gasped against Frank's throat, but his legs were already parting, letting Frank slot a knee between them. "Then we got fifty-nine minutes," Frank muttered, biting down on Charlie’s collarbone through the rough fabric.