What Did You Picture?
By CatHeights


Codes: B/K
Rating: NC-17; angst; sexual situations
Timing: Sometime during season 3 before Operation Andy
Website: www.geocities.com/catheights

It couldn’t be. No fuckin’ way. But damn, it sure sounded like Beecher was jerking off. It had to be his horny imagination, though, because the lights were still on. Not that such a thing would have mattered to him, but shit, he’d never heard Beecher whack off, even in the dark.

The bunk above him creaked, and Chris lay still, listening intently. He swore he heard a soft moan and the sound of a hand moving against fabric. Nah, it couldn’t be what he was picturing. Not Toby. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to check things out. He could get a drink of water, wash his hands — stare at the top bunk.

He slid quietly off of his mattress and then walked across the pod. He never quite made it over to the sink, though, as when he glanced up at Beecher’s bunk, the sight was a shitload better than he had been imagining. Jesus Christ! He’d never seen Toby look like that. Chris backed up against the wall, letting it support him as his eyes devoured the scene playing out on the other side of the pod.

Toby, only in his boxers, was lying with his eyes closed and his legs spread open. Chris could see the shirt he had been wearing earlier crumpled by his side, but there was no sign of his pants. Chris’s interest in finding Beecher’s pants, however, was minimal, as his gaze was drawn to Toby’s right hand, which was nestled deep inside his boxers. He watched as that hand moved in a steady rhythm underneath the cotton material.

As Toby began to arch into his hand, Chris felt his own hardness pressing against the confines of his pants. Toby’s hips lifted slightly with each touch, and Chris vaguely wondered when Toby had slipped out of his clothing. He hadn’t heard a sound. Did it really matter? Definitely no, he thought, as Beecher gave one long, slow thrust into his hand, his head tilting backward as he did. Chris wanted to step across the pod and place his lips on that exposed neck. He wanted the right to lick at that flushed skin.

The tip of Toby’s tongue slid out caressing his upper lip. Chris remembered the one time he had felt those lips, the soft pressure of them against his own. A moan escaped Toby’s mouth, and Chris pressed both of his palms flat against the wall behind him. It was only when Toby’s eyes flew open that he realized he had moaned too. Shit.

He didn’t give a damn about being caught by Toby, but he feared Beecher stopping or chasing him away. Fuck, if it had been him, there was no way he could have stopped. Knowing that Chris didn’t want him to stop, Toby, however, would have somehow managed it. Chris let his eyes travel up to meet Toby’s, bracing himself for the sarcastic flood of words that would surely detail what a goddamn pervert he was. Those words never came.

Toby slipped his hand out of his boxers and ran it casually down the front of his groin, while his left hand rested on his hip. The right hand slipped into the fold of his boxers, carefully freeing his erection. Chris swallowed as he watched Toby wrap his fingers around that now revealed shaft and begin once again to thrust, only much harder now.

His gaze locked with Toby’s, and he knew in that moment that this had all been planned. Toby had wanted him to hear the sounds of him jerking off, and he had known Chris wouldn’t be able to resist watching. Toby was sending him a message, and Chris was getting it crystal clear. You can moan that you’ve been thinking about kissing me, brush up against me every time we pass, but it’s not going to get you what you want. This is as close as you’re going to get.

Well if Toby thought that knowledge was going to make him stop watching, he was wrong. For now, if this was as close as he was going to get, then he was going to stay until this show closed. 20 hacks pounding on their pod door couldn’t have convinced him to move. Beecher seemed so comfortable with his body, so in tune with its needs. He’d never seen him like this, and it was the hottest, fuckin’ thing he had ever seen. No, he definitely wasn’t moving.

Chris could hear the harsh intake of Toby’s breath, and his gaze followed the path of those hips as they rocked off the mattress. His eyes glazed with need, Toby moaned, and Chris pressed firmly against the wall. He was so goddamn hard. He wanted to slip his hands inside his pants and touch himself, wrapping his fingers around his penis so that he could match Beecher stroke for stroke.

Trapped by Toby’s eyes, though, he was unable to move. It wasn’t part of the game. He wasn’t supposed to touch himself, and he knew it. This was all about his needs not being satisfied. If he released one hand from the wall, he could change that, but he was no more capable of doing that than he was of walking away. The instant Toby’s eyes had opened, the trap had slammed shut, and for this moment Toby had all the power. It was his game, his rules, and all about what he needed and what he wanted Chris to know.

Toby released another moan, and Chris let his head briefly rest against the wall, extending his neck as his breathing became as harsh as Beecher’s. He lifted his head, and he could see the sheen of sweat on Toby’s chest even as he felt his own sweat pooling beneath his black tank top. He felt a bead of perspiration drip down his face, and he wanted to wipe it away, but his hands seemed to be permanently stuck to the pod wall.

The lust-filled, piercing gaze that held him in place disappeared as Toby’s eyes slid close while the pace of the hand circling his penis increased. Almost hyperventilating, Chris watched Toby’s face flush, his hips rock, and his free hand clutch at the sheets as he approached his orgasm. As he came, Toby released a low, choked moan, and Chris found himself making a similar sound.

His penis ached as he watched Toby jerk with his release. He could feel a stickiness spreading inside his boxers, and Chris yearned to remove his pants so that he could bring about his own release. Toby’s body was still now, but the harsh sound of both their breathing filled the pod. It was over, but still Chris couldn’t move. He didn’t have the will to take his eyes off Toby’s sated body, sprawled so unselfconsciously on that upper bunk.

Silence stretched for a while, and then Toby was carefully sliding down from his bunk. He limped over to the sink, ignoring Chris, and began to clean himself up. Still painfully hard and trying to catch his breath, Chris watched as Toby wiped the cum off of his stomach.

As he began washing his hands in the sink, Toby asked casually, “Something bothering you Keller?” He looked up, the guileless expression on his face not matching the cunning look in his eyes.

Chris mastered his breathing. He’d given Toby quite enough for the night. There was no way he was going to let his voice betray the agony of his desire. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, his tone its normal smooth confidence.

Beecher snorted. “Oh, I’m sure.” He dried his hands off, and without another glance at Chris, limped back to his bunk and slowly pulled himself up.

As he moved away from the wall, Chris felt pain flair through his wrists. He hadn’t realized that he had been putting most of his weight on them. He twisted them around, working out the kinks. He pulled off his tank top, let it drop to the floor, and then carefully removed his pants, letting them fall onto his top. His penis, now free, poked through his boxers.

His gaze was once again drawn to Toby, who was now sitting up in his bunk, his back resting against the pod wall. Chris’s eyes followed a bent leg, the curve of a hip, and then lingered on a now calm chest. The physical need to touch Toby was so strong that it truly hurt. His hands burned to be able to feel Toby’s skin.

Chris watched Toby’s eyes flicker over his obviously still aroused state and saw the smirk appear on Toby’s face. Two sets of blue eyes locked. Beecher’s expression was one of taunting superiority, but Chris refused to look away. He gazed intently at the face that he longed to kiss, until Toby’s smirk faded. Moments before Beecher had been so comfortable in his own skin, but now he seemed to draw in on himself as the heat of Chris’s desire raked over him. Toby looked away first, and Chris resisted the urge to sigh. He allowed himself one more glance at that beautiful body, and then slid into his own bunk.

His need too strong to be denied any longer, Chris slid his fingers along his penis, feeling the stickiness at the tip. He knew Beecher was listening, waiting to hear the sounds of his arousal. And, he knew that Toby would see his giving in and satisfying his body’s need as some sort of weakness. That goddamn smirk would be returning to Toby’s face as he declared his victory. He didn’t give a shit, though, because he knew it had nothing to do with winning or losing. Not this time, not with Toby.

As he wrapped his hand around his erection, Chris briefly wondered how much of a show they had just given the rest of the cellblock. The lights were still glaring, so he was sure they had been entertaining somebody. Not that he really gave a fuck. There wasn’t much to do for entertainment after lockdown. If some poor bastard got a thrill from watching, what the hell?

He grunted as his hand created a welcome envelope of pressure. Chris cleared his mind, seeing only Toby, but not like he had been moments before. No, he was picturing Toby lying beneath him as they made love. In his mind, Chris tasted Toby’s lips while his hand explored the smooth expanse of skin from the chest to the pelvis. Then, he was following the path his hand had made with his mouth. Tasting Toby’s warm flesh, and moving on to lick at the tip of his penis. Slowly, he swallowed more and more, feeling Toby pressing into his mouth.

Chris stroked himself harder, while in his mental picture, he slid his mouth off of that finely stretched hardness, and with his hands pushed Toby’s thighs apart so that he could reach the spot right underneath his balls. In his mind while licking that spot, Chris was hearing Toby moan, but in reality, it was his own soft moans that were filling the pod.

His tongue was moving down further, finding Toby’s entrance, and then he was relaxing that muscle in preparation. Behind his closed eyelids, Chris could clearly see Toby laid out before him. He was positioning himself now, lifting Toby’s legs as he pressed the tip of his penis inside. He had to see Toby’s face as he slid all the way in. He needed to meet his gaze as they connected. In his mind, when his eyes locked with Toby’s, he saw that lust that had been there today, but also the trust and love that had been glowing in those eyes when they had kissed all those months ago in the laundry room.

Yes. He could feel Toby’s muscles clenching, pulling him in further and setting the pace. He wrapped his hand over Toby’s penis, feeling its heat. He was so close. He felt himself releasing into Toby, and at the same time, he could feel fluid spilling over the hand that was wrapped around his lover’s erection. Their timing was perfect. The scent and feel of it all seemed so vivid and real. As he jerked into his own hand, Chris was completely wrapped in that sensual illusion — until he heard the giggling from above. His eyes opened to the reality of his own semen splattering on his hand and stomach. All that had been satisfied was the moment’s physical need.

He gazed broodingly at the bunk overhead. I know there’s a part of you that still loves me Toby. I know it. He clenched the sticky hand that was resting on his stomach. He could play these games, if that was what Toby needed. He just had to know that there was hope at some point of proving his love.

Actually, what had just transpired proved that he wasn’t wrong to hope. A small smile on his face, Chris called out, “Hey, Toby.”

“What?” Toby said sounding incredibly annoyed.

“When you came, how were you picturing me?”

Chris heard an angry intake of breath, and he was sure Toby’s nose was flaring. He didn’t get an answer, but that was all right because he didn’t need or expect one. Chris knew that just as he had been picturing Toby as he stroked himself, Toby had been picturing him. Toby’s game had been fueled by his desire, and Chris was sure it drove Toby nuts that despite everything that had happened that desire just wouldn’t go away.

He understood that Beecher had needed to prove to himself that Chris’s desire was greater, and that he had the power to deny Chris. And you know what? If that was what Toby needed, that was okay with him. Because as long as Toby still felt that attraction, Chris had the opening he wanted to try to regain Toby’s trust and love. With that as a possibility, he would do anything to get back what he had foolishly damaged.

You wanna call yourself the victor tonight, Toby? Go ahead. That’s fine. When I’ve finally proven to you that I really do love you, well then we’ll both win. No more imagining. When I make love to you, it’ll be like nothing you’ve ever felt in your life.

Chris got up and went over to the sink to clean himself off. When he walked back to his bunk, he saw that Beecher was lying on his side facing the wall. Trying to block out my existence? Chris thought as he smirked. Deny it all you want, Toby, but tonight, I know you’ll be dreaming of me just as I will you.

He climbed back into his bunk, again staring at the one above as if he could make its occupant feel his gaze. Hands folded across his chest, Chris vowed that he would get Beecher back. You’ll see, Toby. I can picture it all, and I promise, you’ll see.

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