Keller settles crosswise across his bunk, leaning against the wall, watching silently as Toby gets ready for bed. He’s brushing his teeth, and like always, something about it turns Chris on... he’s just so fucking ‘clean.’ Even after two years in this fuckhole, after all of the shit that’s been tossed at him, he still looks better, feels better, even *smells* better than anything Chris has ever gotten his hands on. Must be the fucking genes.
Right now, Toby’s got nothing but his boxers on, just like Chris himself. Maybe because after ten days in lockdown they’ve only got one clean shirt left between them, or maybe because whatever he puts on is coming right back off soon as he gets in bed, and both of them know it. After ten days, they’ve got a routine.
And this, this watching, is part of it.
Chris does it because he can, because he’s there, and because it does something to him, inside, to know he’s free to look, to stare, to see. He watches Toby every single night; watches his hands, his mouth, his hips, the muscles that flex and contract, the long curve of his spine -- same way he used to when they slept in different pods, back when watching was *all* that they did. Some habits die hard. Chris watches him walk, and talk, and just fucking *move* -- and each time he does, he’s swamped by a rushing wave of proprietary lust, knowing that Beecher belongs to him now.
Him, and nobody else.
Keller knows all too well how fucked-up prison makes you, all the monsters it lets loose in your brain… and he knows, without being told, pretty much everything Toby has been through with Vern. Shit like that, it changes you. Beecher should be way more of a hard case by now, out to get back a piece of himself by unleashing some of those monsters onto someone else, playing his part in the grand scheme, the cycle, the code. But instead, he was here. Willingly.
Only Chris had been able to pull that off. No one but Chris.
A glance in the mirror, eyes meeting eyes. Chris’s slow, lazy grin provokes an amused snort from Beecher, who turns around to face him. As if on cue, the lights go out and suddenly they’re shrouded in darkness, eyes still locked through the shadows. Keller’s grin deepens when Toby covers the distance between them in record time, pushing Chris’s legs apart as he drops to his knees on the floor.
“Want something?” Chris asks, smirking.
“Mmm. What gave me away?”
“Call it a hunch.”
“Good call,” Toby says lightly, but his voice is rougher now. Hungrier. He reaches for Chris’s bare thighs, and compared to the cool air in the pod his hands are like flames, like he’s burning from somewhere deep under his skin. He leans forward, his mouth only inches from Chris’s crotch, making his intentions clear, and Chris groans in spite of himself. His body tightens in anticipation, hips already churning restlessly.
Christ, he loves Toby like this.
A flash of light warns them a hack is approaching on rounds. Chris watches, amused, as Toby crawls onto the bunk with him, ducking under the blanket. Amusement turns swiftly to something else, though, when Toby drags Chris’s legs on to the bed, settling between them, using the cover to his advantage as he nudges Chris’s shorts aside with his nose, pressing his face into the heated skin. The warm lash of that tongue moves across Chris’s inner thigh, licking him, tasting him, lapping at him, and *fuck*, it’s all Chris can do to keep still. All he wants to do is sink his fingers into Toby’s hair and shove his cock into that warm, willing mouth.
Toby knows this, of course, and he laughs.
Light flares into the pod. Chris looks down at the blanket -- which is shifting suspiciously as Toby yanks Chris’s shorts off beneath it – and then he turns his head, giving Murphy a bold, challenging smile. After a long pause, the hack rolls his eyes and moves on. Permission granted. Once the coast is clear, Chris quickly throws off the cheap wool, his dick already painfully hard, and glances down to find Toby splayed between his legs, grinning at him.
“Tell me something,” Toby says, conversationally. “Where did you get this thing?”
“This.” He brushes one finger over the butterfly, laughing again when Chris’s body reacts to his touch.
“What, the tattoo?”
Toby nods, brushing his stubbled chin along the length of Chris's cock. Keller watches him, taking in the sight. It’s a nice one. Toby, more than half-naked, on his knees like he’s ready to pray, his mouth hovering over the shrine. Stroking the tattoo like it’s some holy carving or something, smiling like it’s all a game -- but Chris can feel that warm breath coming fast on his thigh, can see Toby licking his lips like he can’t help himself, no matter what game of ‘tease and distract’ he thinks he’s playing right now.
Chris decides to play, too.
Looking down, he smiles slowly at Toby. “You wanna hear that story?”
“Mmm....” Toby lowers his head, taking Chris deep into his mouth before quickly releasing him. “Yes.”
“One day I’m in this tat place, with a buddy of mine.” Chris draws himself up on the bed, leaning back on his hands as Toby takes his cock in his mouth again, sucking him hard. Fuck. “So I’m looking around, you know, while my friend’s gettin’ inked, and there’s this chick. One of the artists.” He closes his eyes, picturing it, remembering. “She’s sitting behind the counter, and Toby, she’s fuckin’ amazing -- long black hair down to here, these incredible lips, her shirt so low you can see her tits. Every guy in the place is looking at her, watching her, but she don’t give a shit. She’s blowing them off like she’s used to it, like none of them is good enough to go near her.” He drops his head back as Toby starts to move faster, raising his hips off the bed to push deep into that wet heat, to feel it surround him. "So I go up to her, and I give her a smile -- and I notice she’s got this tat. Right there on her chest...right where that shirt is gaping wide open.”
He opens his eyes, looking down. Toby glances at him without lifting his head, and Jesus, it’s almost too much, seeing Beecher like that – watching him, mesmerized, with his mouth full of Chris’s cock. But it’s too fucking soon. Chris sits up and pulls away, laughing when Toby looks like he’s about to protest. “So she asks me what I want, right? And I reach out my hand, and I touch her, like this...” He reaches out, one hand drifting across Toby’s chest, fingers brushing the skin just above one hardened nipple. Toby’s staring at him now, practically panting through lips wet and swollen from Chris’s own dick. Beautiful. “And she’s watching me. Staring. Her eyes are all wide…” Chris lowers his voice to a whisper. “Just like yours, Toby, just like yours get when you want to fuck me *so* *hard*, when you’re so fucking hard you don’t think you can stand it, you think you’ll just fucking explode.” He pauses. “Just like your eyes are right now. So I lean in real close, just like this, and I touch it... it’s so warm, you know? All that pretty, soft skin... and I say: ‘I want this.’ ”
A shudder runs through Toby’s body. Keller grins wickedly, watching him struggle to breathe. “So she says, ‘where do you want it?’ And I tell her -- ” He takes Toby’s hand, pulling it against his stiff, engorged cock. “I tell her, ‘I want it right here. And I want you to give it to me.’ ”
Toby swallows audibly. “You’re full of shit.”
“Swear to God.”
“You *told* her that?”
“Christ,” Toby mutters, and pounces, landing full-length on top of Chris and claiming his mouth in a violent kiss. Chris pushes him back a little, laughing softly, and asks, “Liked that, huh?”
Toby is already tugging at his own shorts. “So did she?”
“Did she what?”
“C’mon, Keller,” he growls. “Did she give it to you?”
“What do you think?”
Another snort. “I think *I’m* gonna give it to you.”
They move together far into the corner of the shadowed bunk, tossing and rolling, Toby wrapped tight around Chris and holding him fast. They end up with Chris lying flat on his back, giving it up, and for the first time he finds himself watching as Toby moves over him, into him, taking in all of the shifting emotions revealed on that face. Desire, and envy, and even a little jealousy too, all mixed up with the love...all of it filling Chris with a bone-deep satisfaction, a pleasure more potent than anything his body alone has ever been able to feel. Toby’s face is flushed red, his teeth gritted, his eyes locked on Keller’s as he jerks and strains against him, gripping him with desperate hands, crying out with a need he can barely control. Taking what he’s never once offered willingly to anyone else besides Chris, and saying the one word he’s spoken to no one but Chris since he came into Oz:
“Yes, yes, yessss...”
Keller laughs, hiking his legs higher, clenching his muscles around Toby’s cock. He watches him, gets off on watching him, knowing that no one will ever make Beecher feel *this*, nobody but *him* -- and he comes, in a gut-clenching, full-body spasm, the moment Toby starts moaning his name.
He jolts awake a short time later, when the light returns. He’d been dreaming about the butterfly, remembering how it felt to have it seared into his skin, never to wash away. Before he'd left her, he’d made the girl promise to toss the design, so no one else could ever use it. And she did. He owns the fucking thing now.
Next to him, Toby is asleep on his stomach, one arm thrown across Chris’s waist. Through the shadows, Chris watches him breathe. He watches that pale, naked back rise and fall, and he watches the strong, steady pulse beating under his jaw, and it would be so easy to... Toby must know it, too, and yet even in his sleep, he pulls Keller close.
And that was the fucking key. Whatever Beecher has done to survive, whatever deals he made with those monsters, he’d done it against his will. But he’d come to Chris all on his own.
Toby wants him. Only him. And now he has proof.
It makes him feel like a fucking god.
Author's Notes: This one grew out of a question posed
on the TS list long ago, speculating about the origins of that mysterious butterfly tat. Way back then, Christy the Plot Goddess pulled a fabulous bunny out of her hat, inspiring this. The tat story Chris tells to Toby is completely
her idea; as much as I'd love to, I take no credit for it.Thanks as always, to my two wonderful partners in delicious crime, Christy and Grackle, for their invaluable suggestions and encouragement.
Dedicated to Mav, and not just cuz she flatters me and sends me treats. :)