Visiting Day

by Riley Cannon

Disclaimer: Don't own them, Fontana & HBO do; only borrow them for fun.

"Visiting Day"

Chris cast a slow look around the visitors room, confirming no one was paying them any attention, and scooted his chair closer to Toby's, their thighs brushing. He leaned into Toby's space, catching that wary gaze and holding it for a long moment. When Chris was certain he had Toby's undivided attention, he dropped his own gaze to the wide, thin-lipped mouth he was aching to kiss. He raised his gaze then, slowly, meeting Toby's and letting him see all that hunger and wanting, watching him feel it and give it back, those lips parting to release a shuddering breath.

"Bastard," Toby whispered, swallowing and pressing his thigh against Chris'.

A corner of Chris' mouth lifted and he stroked his fingers along Toby's arm, the brown sweater so soft against his fingers. He tilted his head closer so his breath could caress Toby's skin as he whispered, "You sexy motherfucker -- you got any idea how much I wanna go to my knees right here?"

"Yeah, I do," Toby said back, eyeballing him and giving that right back. He scooted even closer, never relinquishing his claim on Chris' eyes, and letting one hand slip under the table to rest on Chris' thigh. Voice dropped so low Chris wouldn't have heard it from just another inch away, Toby told him, "I want to feel your skin, hot and naked against mine. I want to lick your skin and taste your sweat. Chris," his fingers trailed up the inside of Chris' thigh, "I want you beside me in that big empty bed. I want us tangled up in each other, sucking and fucking our brains out. I want to hear you scream when I make you come," he finished, cupping Chris' crotch and squeezing.

"Toby--" Chris gasped the name out, drawing in a shaky breath, completely caught in the moment and lost in Toby's eyes. Those bold and shameless fingers stroked him again and he bit his lip against a moan. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing lately," Toby said, giving him a playful smile--and moving his chair back just a bit as a hack finally looked their way. He sighed then, blue eyes filling with a mournful mix of regret and anguished pleasure that made them so uniquely Toby's. "I keep waking up in the dark and it's so quiet," he continued in that same confessional tone. "I lay there trying to hear the sound of you breathing beside me, feel your body pressed against mine. And for a second I think I can feel your arm and leg draped over me, so heavy and warm, your breath puffing against my neck. Then everything clicks and I remember where I am, and that you're never going to be there--" Voice cracking just a bit, he broke off, biting his lip and looking away.

"Toby..." Chris felt even more at a loss for words at this admission. He didn't even know how to feel about it. He wanted to be pleased Toby wasn't forgetting him, but it was hard seeing how much it tore him up. "That's just a couple minutes, though, right?" That couldn't be so bad, not like how he was stuck in here and missing Toby every second of every day.

Toby nodded, giving him another rueful look. "Yeah, just a couple of minutes then. And half a minute here, forty-five seconds there when I see something you'd get a kick out of or that I wish I could share with you." He laid his hand over Chris' where it rested on the table, a serious and heartfelt look on his face now. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, Chris." His thumb rubbed back and forth over Chris' hand. "It hurts, but it's a good hurt."

"You know that's nuts, right?" Chris said, looking at their hands, turning his to clasp Toby's. "You should get on with your life, Toby," he said, still looking at their hands and not trusting himself to meet Toby's eyes. "Put this place behind you."

"Yeah?" Toby sniffed. "Forget all about you?"

He shrugged, the idea killing him. "Yeah." He could hear the lack of conviction in his voice and wondered what had ever happened to the smooth operator he used to be, before Toby. Nothing had been the same for him since Toby. There were times he wasn't exactly grateful about that, either; it all used to be so much easier.

"Hey, look at me." Toby reached his other hand across the table, touching Chris' face. "Chris, that is never going to happen."



He could see the truth of that in Toby's eyes, the sweet pain of it like a knife to the heart. Pretty much business as usual for them. "I miss you." He gripped Toby's hand tighter. "I wish," he sighed, feeling that knife twisting, "I wish I could be with you, Toby." Stupid to wish for impossible things, all the regrets in the world weren't making his sins go away.

Toby nodded, though, like he understood and like he didn't think it was stupid. He squeezed Chris' fingers and sat back a bit, not letting go. "You really like the socks?" he said, bottom lip pooching out as if he was really worried about that.

Chris laughed, nodding. "Yeah, I like the socks."

"I'll bring you something better next time."

"Toby, you don't gotta bring me anything." His smile turned more intimate, fingers stroking the palm of Toby's hand. "Don't you know you're all I need?"

If he didn't exactly look sold on that, Toby accepted it, saying, "So you don't want to exchange me for a snazzier model?"

Chris squeezed his hand. "Nope." He watched Toby take that in, looking pleased. "So -- tell me what it's like on the outside," he went on after a moment. Eyes downcast and scrutinizing the table, he added, "You seen anymore of Holly's teacher?"

Sounding mystified, Toby said, "No."

"How come? Thought she made you laugh." He was still studying the table intently.

"So does David Letterman; I'm not seeing him, either." Toby let out one of those huffs, reminding Chris how much he even missed that sound. "Look at me. Chris, look at me."

Raising his head with caution, he met eyes blue as all outside -- and with just a hint of storm ready to brew. "What?"

"Listen to me." Toby grasped both of his hands across the table, giving him a no-nonsense look that wouldn't be argued with. "I don't know what's going to happen in six months or a year, or ten years. It's not easy being alone, and someday I may meet someone I want to be with," he admitted. "But even then you are always going to be a part of me, always." He squeezed Chris' hands, still with that determined look on his sweet face. "At this precise moment in time, however, getting used to life outside is tough enough without also chasing after Mrs. Latimer -- who, incidentally, is sixty and looks not unlike Ed Asner in drag. Have a little bit of faith in me, okay?" he said with another squeeze for emphasis.

Ashamed of himself for doubting, after everything, Chris nodded. "I wasn't really worried," he said, trying to put some authenticity into the words.

"No, of course you weren't," Toby said, just as if he understood everything.

Chris sighed, drinking in Toby's face, trying to memorize every feature all over again. He reached across the table, fingertips skimming a golden eyebrow and along a ridge of cheekbone. He ran an index finger along that cute little nose, smiling at Toby's exasperated look. Feeling an electric jolt of desire, his fingers grazed along Toby's lips, slowly, breath catching in another gasp as those lips parted and the tip of the world's wickedest tongue flicked out to lash the pads of his fingers.

Oh Christ, this was going to kill him, never being able to touch Toby the way he wanted to, the way he needed to. And the only thing worse would be not even having this much.

"Time's up," a hack called, bringing the visit to an end way too soon. Chris hadn't stored up nearly enough memories to last him until the next time. There never would be time enough for that.

"I'll see you soon," Toby said, making a promise of it with his eyes.

And that would have been enough, that vow and the way Toby'd let him touch him all during the visit, getting close enough to breath in the smell of him and feel the warmth of his skin. Chris could have lived on that until the next time. But Toby wanted more, pulling Chris close and holding him tight, one hand cradling the back of his head and drawing him in for a kiss. A long, slow and deep kiss that promised and delivered everything on the spot. A kiss that didn't give a fuck if everyone was watching.

"I love you," Toby murmured, nuzzling into his neck, still holding tight.

Arms locked around him just as tight, one hand buried in golden silk, Chris kissed his temple. "I love you, Toby."

Toby drew back, cradling his face and just looking at him like he wanted to remember, too. Then he hugged Chris close again, cheeks pressed together, hands rubbing along Chris' back. Chris embraced him back, holding on for dear life, believing Toby really would catch him if he fell.

~~the end~~

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