(Screencap
courtesy of leetergesen.net)
(Note: Thanks to Maverick, Rikki, and Rowan, for beta and
pep talks and just generally being awesome chicks.)
“I
want to feel you come in my mouth—I want to feel your hot come shooting
down the back of my throat while I hold you against the wall with my
fingers fucking your ass, nice and slow...”
At first, I
say this to Toby mainly for the sheer pleasure of watching his face
flush; apparently, no one really ever talked dirty to him before I came
along. So I lean in and pin him against the bunk and whisper in
his
ear, and then I lean back and just watch him turn different shades of
red.
We’ve been in
lockdown about a week now. Shit, exactly a week. (Like
we ain’t counting?) Let’s just say we’re a little short of forms
of entertainment here in the old pod. A man could lose his
fucking
mind, sitting in here all day every day, and the only thing that keeps
me from flipping out and trying to smash the walls down with my bare
hands
is him. He’s real good at calming me down, which kind of
surprised
me at first. For a long fucking time, it seemed like he
specialized
exclusively in busting my balls and chewing away at my sanity.
Not like he
doesn’t get pissed off about this lockdown shit, too. I got
no doubt he’d love to kick back with his good pal Kareem and ponder the
meaning of existence and all the wondrous delights Allah has in store
for those who follow His glorious path into the afterlife...or, you
know,
whatever the fuck it is they talk about together. But I’m pretty
good at making him forget his troubles when I put my mind to it.
And I doubt it would come as a surprise to anyone that I put my mind to
it a lot.
“I’m gonna
swallow it all, Toby, every fucking drop—God, I can’t wait, it’s gonna
taste so fucking good...I’ve been waiting for it all day...you know how
hard that’s going to make me? Why don’t you feel for yourself how
hard
it’s making me even thinking about it...”
I grab
his wrist and press his hand against my crotch. The red in his
face gets a little brighter and deeper, and he sort of huffs and
scrunches
his eyebrows at me, trying to seem like he doesn’t approve. Oh,
GOD,
I love it when he gets that look.
“Jesus, Chris,
don’t...” But it’s not like he’s exactly trying to get away or
anything. In fact, he’s kind of leaning in, and damned if his
hand isn’t moving against me, curious fingers touching the hard
evidence of just how bad I want it.
“Yeah,
Toby, oh yeah, feel that, feel how hard my cock is... So, you
know
what I’m going to do after I suck you off and swallow all that hot
come? What do you think I might have in mind, with my dick this
fucking hard? Use your imagination...”
Toby snorts
like he’s nervous, then looks outside the pod, I guess to see if anyone
might be watching. The lights are still on, and they’re going to
stay that way for about another hour. Getting Toby hard while the
lights are on is one of the greatest pleasures of my day.
He closes his
eyes, takes a deep breath, and shrugs slowly. He moves his hand
in faster and longer strokes against me, and gives me a lazy grin.
“I don’t
know...get out the chess board? I know how much you enjoy a good
game of chess...”
Oh, so
clever ...you think you’re soooooo clever...
I lean
forward and growl in his ear. “Chess? No, Toby, not unless
that’s some kind of euphemism for me bending you over and shoving my
rock-hard
dick in your ass.”
His hand stops
moving, and he exhales real fast. He shuts his eyes, tight.
“Yeah,
that’s right Toby...I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for the
rest of the night, so when you’re up in your bunk, away from me, you’ll
still feel me, you’ll remember me pounding my cock into you, deeper and
deeper...you’ll remember me shooting, exploding into your body....God
Toby, I’m gonna come so hard, right inside you...”
This is all
making my dick get harder by the second, harder than fucking steel,
screaming for Toby’s hand to get moving again. It’s a combination
that never fails: thinking about how I’m going to fuck
Toby...Toby...Toby...my Toby...how I’m going to make my beautiful Ivy
League lawyer growl and pant
and grunt like an animal, how fucking his perfect ass, being inside
him,
it’s as close to heaven as I’m ever likely to get; breathing in his
hair,
his skin, which no matter how long we lie around sweating in this
shithole
never quite lose that smell like he just got out of the shower; feeling
how his breath hits my neck while I’m whispering filth in his ear, the
warm, wet air from his lungs touching me just the same way his fingers
do,
the way someone in love touches the person they... (he loves me he does
I know he does)
“God, Toby,
you always make me come so fucking hard...my whole body shakes...can
you feel it? Can you feel it when that happens...?”
He nods, and I
feel him swallow hard. “Yeah, I can always feel it...”
“Yeah...” I
whisper back. My lips are touching his ear and I’m breathing into
it, which drives him nuts, always. “How do you do that to me,
Toby...how do you make me come like that?”
“I don’t
know,” Toby says so quietly I can barely hear him. His hand, now
nervous and paralyzed, is still glued to my crotch. I lean back
to look at his face again. Deep, deep red, and he won’t meet my
eyes.
“You
don’t? You don’t know? Because you’re pretty goddamn good
at it.” Look at him, poor guy...he really doesn’t know.
He’s got no idea what to say.
“Come on,
Chris, I can’t...” He finishes his sentence by shaking his head
and looking at the floor. His hand has moved away from my crotch
and is now balled into a tight fist at his side.
“It’s OK,” I
whisper, and I run my finger across his lips. His eyes close
again, and I lean forward to kiss him. I move close and press my
erection against his, and he gasps and clutches my arms.
“Wait...someone’s
going to see...”
“Let ‘em...I
don’t give a shit...” The hoarseness of my voice gives away the
fact that this plan is starting to backfire, just a little. I’m
losing control faster than he is. I begin to grind slowly against
him. “They’ll have to call every hack in the whole fucking prison
if they want to take me away from you, Toby, and that might still not
be
enough. Do you understand?”
He nods
quickly, his fingers digging into my biceps.
“You got no
idea what I was willing to do for you, to make you mine, to make you
belong to me...do you? You think I’m scared of some fucking
hacks?” It’s getting harder to talk, but I can’t seem to shut
up. My hand creeps up his shirt to flick his rigid nipple; his
hips buck forward and he grunts like he’s in pain.
“I would have
done anything, Toby, anything...” Now he’s moving too, rocking
against me. His head bows until it’s resting on my
shoulder. For some reason, that gets me even hotter. “I
watched you every
night—did you see me? Did you know I was standing there watching
you in your pod, that my whole body was burning for you? Could
you
feel it from where you were? Could you feel how bad I needed to
touch
you?”
“Yes...”
Toby’s voice is shaky and kind of desperate. I know he loves
hearing about that, even if he doesn’t want to love it.
“Did you think
about me in there, Toby? Did you think about me when you
touched yourself? When you came in the middle of the night, alone
in your pod, jerking yourself off, did you imagine I was on my knees
sucking
your cock? Did you imagine you were fucking my face and shooting
in my mouth?”
He releases a
deep breath and presses his forehead harder against my shoulder.
“Jesus, Chris...yes...”
“Yeah,
you knew I was watching you, every second, touching you with my
eyes. You could feel me, just like I was there...I’ll bet
sometimes you weren’t sure what you wanted to do about it—if you wanted
to hurt me, humiliate me, or throw me down and fuck me...or maybe what
you really wanted was to do all that at the same time...”
Now he
lifts his head from my shoulder and looks me in the eye, and I guess
I’ve hit something, somewhere inside him where I didn’t think I could
get at it. I know there must have been nights, alone in his bunk
with nothing but the revenge in his head and the aching in his broken
limbs
and a hard-on beneath the sheets, when he wanted to do to me everything
Schillinger did to him...or maybe something even worse. And
honestly,
I can’t say I wouldn’t have deserved it—everything he could dream up,
and
more.
His hands move
up from my arms to my face, and he gently holds them against my cheeks
as he looks at me. He wants me to understand how everything is
different now. He pulls me to him and kisses me, using his mouth
to open mine, probing me with his tongue, talking to me without saying
words. I rub my cock against his in hard, slow strokes.
I’ve
almost run out of words, too.
I wrap
my arms around his body, underneath his shirt, and breathe hot against
his neck. “Come on, Toby...come...I want you to come for me...do
it...do it...now...” I can feel all the eyes watching us, I know
people are watching, and that’s just fine with me, everything is fine,
just fine, more than just fine, because Toby’s arms are circling my
neck
and pulling me closer, and I wouldn’t mind if the whole fucking world
saw that, because they all need to know that he’s mine now, he belongs
to only me, he’s never really belonged to anyone else, and I don’t care
what Said or Schillinger or whoever might have to say on the
subject.
And God...oh God...God fucking help anyone who would try to make Toby
think
otherwise...I swear it’ll be their last act on this earth.
“Do it
Toby do it do it come on I want you to come against me come on come on”
and then it’s easy, really, I know exactly what to do when he’s this
close, because in a matter of days I’ve figured everything out about
what drives him crazy, I have near-perfect knowledge of how his body
works and exactly which combinations of body- and mindfucking will send
him screaming right over the edge...so I reach my hand around and rub
his nipple with my thumb while I bite into his neck, and then he’s
making that noise I love so much
and tensing and growling and coming, his arms squeezing me tight...the
whole
length of his body is trembling against the whole length of mine, and
feeling
his orgasm makes me come too, just like always. I convulse
against
him and manage not to make any noise, but I end up biting him so hard I
almost draw blood.
I finally lean
back and look at him, to see how he’s holding up. This is way
further than we usually go with the lights on, and I’m thinking he
might be a little freaked. But no, he looks pretty relaxed—happy
even, smiling, all out of breath, rubbing at the place where I bit
him. He
looks down at our pants and shakes his head.
“I’m running
out of clean clothes, Keller.”
“Not my
problem, Beecher. I like you better without ‘em anyway.”
He rolls his
eyes as he starts to change his clothes, and I lean back against
the bed to watch him before I do the same. Then I lay down in my
bunk and keep watching him, while he brushes his teeth. Every few
seconds, his eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I know it’s to make sure
I’m still looking. He probably doesn’t even realize that’s what
he’s
doing. I think he kind of takes it for granted, after all these
months—this
unchanging thing, my constant attention, my need to witness his rituals
and routines, to be wrapped up in everything he does, no matter what
else
is going on. That’s OK with me. Besides, right now there’s
nothing I’d rather be doing. All I really can do is lie here and
wait for the lights to go out, and that’s when I can start to make good
on all my promises, every last one.