4

Some time later, Chris awakens with a start. He doesn’t know what woke him –
maybe the cool air drying the sweat on his skin, or the strangeness of
someone beside him after a long stretch of sleeping alone. He’s lying on his
stomach, one arm still draped across Toby’s waist -- side to side, skin
sealed to skin, one breathing in what the other’s breathing out. The blanket’s
caught beneath his legs; warm, damp, scratchy wool, same as fucking
always. Same dull hum of fluorescent lights, same pale shadows on the wall,
and Chris just has to wonder how it all can look familiar, now that everything
has changed.

Careless of his nudity, he climbs out of bed and crosses to the door, looking
out on the darkened quad. His home. His life. The darkness and the early hour
make everything seem weird – there’s a stillness in the air, like the calm before
a storm. Somewhere beyond the gunmetal gleam of Em City, caged wolves are
howling. Chris knows this, he can fucking smell it. Vern won’t forget what
happened in the gym, he’ll be back around. For Beecher, of course, and now
for Chris too. 

Up until this thing with Toby, Chris had felt no fear; a man who has nothing
has nothing to lose. But now things have changed. *Chris* has changed --
he wasn’t lying when he told Sister Pete. Going along with Vern, finishing
up the job – that shit he’d had to do, to keep himself alive. Confessing to 
McManus might’ve *seemed* like it was for Toby, but they both knew it wasn’t --
that was about Chris *getting* Toby. Even the goddamn kiss in the laundry
room, unplanned as it was -- even that was about Chris doing what Chris
wanted to do, without giving a fuck about the consequences.

He half-turns, his eyes narrowing. From five feet away he watches Toby sleep,
a rising tide of frustration welling up inside him. Coincidence or fate, Chris had
held Beech in his arms, kissed him like a lover, and was totally unprepared for
what he’d felt when he did. Potential. Possibilities. Things he’d never had before,
had never even believed in. 

Hell yeah, things have changed. Because if anyone thinks he's giving Toby up,
now that he's finally *got* him? They don’t know half of what Chris Keller is
capable of. Thing is, that means it’s up to him to keep Toby safe. And in Oz,
there just aren’t any fucking guarantees.

He casts a look up at the control station. No way to tell how long before
lights-on, but Murphy’s all alone; so far, no new hack has stumbled in for
the A.M. shift. Chris slides back into bed with Toby, pulling him hard against
his body.

“Hey.”

“Mmm. . . ”

“You okay?”

Toby lifts one hand, lets it fall limply against Chris’s shoulder. “Mm-hmm.”

“Look at me, Toby.“

Finally, Toby’s eyes drift open. He turns his head to gaze at Chris, and -- here
it is, his moment of truth. Chris feels as if his heart has stopped. But there are
no shadows in that look. No blame, no shame; just Toby’s eyes, lit from within,
and slightly wiser than before.

“What’s goin’ on?” Toby mumbles sleepily.

“Nothing,” Chris says hoarsely. He captures Toby’s mouth in a penetrating
kiss, impatient to lay his claim once more before the lights come on. Pulling Toby
onto his side, he presses close, settling Toby’s hips firmly against his own. 
He buries his face in the curve of Toby's shoulder, kissing and biting the skin 
there, greedy for the taste. Toby drops his head back and drapes his free arm
over Chris’s shoulder, curling his hand over the sensitive nape of his neck. Chris
closes his eyes, sinking into the pleasure of that touch. He rakes his hand 
through Toby’s hair, capturing a handful of it and drawing him back into another
violent kiss.

Toby pulls away slightly. “Chris. . .”

“Shhh. Let me.”  Chris’s voice is soft, persuasive. “Toby, let me.” He leans 
forward, kissing Toby deeply, lowering his hand to skim the length of Toby's
hip and thigh. And then, in one swift motion, he rolls backward and takes 
Toby on top of him, grunting as their cocks collide.

Toby gazes down at him. “Chris, what's this about?”

“It’s New Year’s," Chris says, grinning. "And I don’t wanna celebrate alone.”

Toby snorts. “I thought we did that already.”

“Yeah, but this is a special New Year’s,” Chris says idly, one hand drifting
across Toby’s cool skin. His fingers linger over the smooth curve of his ass,
and his grin widens when he feels Toby growing hard against him. “New decade,
new century, a whole new millennium.” He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial
whisper. “It’d be a goddamn shame to waste it.”

Toby chokes back a laugh. “Like you need an excuse.”

"I want you, Toby." Chris is serious now. He slides one hand between them,
taking Toby’s cock into his hand and pumping him hard. Chris himself is rigid,
and they’re running out of time. He watches Toby’s face as the pleasure 
rushes through him: eyes half-closed, his breathing forced, a pale flush rising
on his skin. Chris removes his hand, exhaling in a rush as Toby’s cock comes 
hard against his own. Holding Toby close, he rocks his hips in tight, rhythmic
circles, growling in satisfaction when Toby picks it up and begins to thrust
against him. Chris doesn't have to look to know what Toby is feeling. He knows.

“Oh, fuck. . .ohh, shit. . .oh, God. . .*Chris* --- "

Chris captures Toby's mouth in a hot, wet, frenzied kiss, and then there’s
nothing else: no Oz, no wolves, no fresh or healing wounds, just this
forceful dance, with Toby in the lead. He lifts his arms over his head and
grabs the metal bars behind him, letting Toby ride him unrestrained. He
trembles with it, holding back while every instinct urges him to grab Toby,
thrust hard, and finish it for both of them. Then Toby cries out harshly,
and Chris is swamped by new sensations: a fluid warmth against his skin,
Toby's weight upon his chest, and his own body shaking as he arches high,
shuddering in release. 

“Love you, baby. Love you, Toby. Holy fucking *Christ*..."

***

After a while he shifts a little, rolling back onto his side. Toby’s very still;
so still Chris feels compelled to check his pulse. There’s irony in that. He
wants Toby alive. He wants him safe.

He wants Toby to speak his name.

His mind spins, reeling with images he won’t allow, and he jumps out of bed.
Back to the sink, back to the mirror, looking for those demons of his own
that only he can see. Though he's paid his debt to Toby, there are others
coming due.

Shit yeah, he’s scared. For both of them, now. Love doesn’t conquer all --
especially not in Oz.