Altheras watched him smoke, listening to his words and giving a small flinch when he put the cigarette out on his own skin. The man certainly liked his smokes, maybe a little bit too much, but he supposed in this place, such obsessions would develop. He had to admit that he enjoyed the same sensations of smoking, but he could go a while without one, and he wasn't sure he'd ever want to see Jace when deprived of his smokes for a while.<br/><br/>When his cellmate approached him, he felt that old familiar twinge, almost like fear, but more like anticipation. Whenever he had a steady lover, especially a rough one, his chest would tighten and his breath catch in his throat anytime they approached him, his body looking forward to pain and pleasure to come at every possible moment. He ran his tongue over suddenly dry lips, looking up at Jace with lidded eyes. Even though they'd just finished, he already felt that inner ache that could only be sated by the thickness of another man's cock buried to the hilt in his tight body.<br/><br/>Did he want to be safe? No. He did want to be fucked, and whether he would ever truly admit it or not, he wanted to be hurt, and to be scared sometimes. His father had ruined him this way, and he had long since accepted it as simply who he was. "It is. I won't lie. I don't want protection... I don't want to be safe... I want to be thrown to the wolves... to feel their claws, teeth, and cocks tearing at me. The rush of blood, the clench of fear in my chest, the struggle as I fight just to breathe... it's what I live for. Even on the streets it was the same."