by Maggie M
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Many thanks to Myriam and Rowan, my wonderful betas.
"You know, Nate" he says to the trembling man before him, "I always liked mixing business with pleasure."
Shemin takes a step back, his mouth opens to say something or maybe to scream, but Keller's quicker. His hand covers Shemin's mouth and he plunges his shank once, twice, three, four, ten times until the body under his hands ceased to struggle. He lets it fall to the floor. His shirt is splattered with blood. He takes it off and throws it into the open washing machine where Shemin's clothes lay. He throws the shank in there too and then closes the door and pushes the 'on' button.
O'Reily raps on the glass, just once. Party's over, time to go home. Keller nods at him and O'Reily disappears from sight. He pulls on a clean T-shirt and leaves the laundry room throwing a cautious glance at the common area. Good, nobody seems to have noticed anything.
His body thrums with need, adrenaline pumps through his blood and all he wants is to find Beecher... Toby... that fucking bitch... love of his life... and fuck him into next week. But that's not an option, isn't it; all the fucking Toby does now is with Mondo Browne or that little nobody he just took care of. And Keller gave him permission to do that, he said he didn't care who Toby fucked. Which was such a big lie, it was no wonder it sounded convincing in his mouth. It's telling the truth he's always had a problem with. Never did him any good, and Beecher didn't believe him anyway, no matter what he said.
/I'm asking you if you've ever felt this way with another man.
No. I have not felt this way. I swear, Toby.
And that's not even the worst memory, is it?
/You murdered my son!/
Keller shakes his head. No use in thinking about it now. Actions speak louder than words, somebody said. Toby will get his message loud and clear.
He looks at Mondo laughing with his pal Tidd in front of TV. You're next, baby, he thinks.
He finds O'Reily in a secluded corner of EmCity.
"It went well" O'Reily says.
Keller nods, "Yeah."
His muscles are still tense, he's edgy and wary. So when O'Reily moves his hand unexpectedly in the direction of his face, he jerks his head back, fist raised to strike.
"Easy there, K-boy" O'Reily shows his empty hands.
"There's a speck of blood on your cheek," he says, "Somebody could notice."
"Where?" Keller asks, rubbing his face with his hand.
"Lemme" O'Reily says, and his warm fingers touch Keller's cheek, thumb rubbing a small circle on his skin.
Next thing Keller knows, he's pressing O'Reily against the wall and covering his mouth in a hard kiss. He's not even sure why, O'Reily's too tall and skinny, and the hair is wrong, too short to run fingers through. But the lips under his are soft and inviting, and right at the moment, that's enough. He forces them to part and slips his tongue inside, grinding his hard cock against the body in his arms.
O'Reily grunts and tries to shake him away, but Keller's too strong and too horny to care. He squeezes O'Reily's neck and bangs his head against the wall, just once, as a warning. He kisses harder, biting the full lower lip, body shaking with need for release. Through the haze of lust he feels something sharp and cold jabbing in his groin and it doesn't feel like the Mick's cock for sure. Another jab and a stab of pain, and he stills.
"Let me go or I'll make sure you won't be able to fuck Beecher ever again," O'Reily gasps.
The tip of the shank presses a bit harder into Keller's skin through the material of his pants. He smiles but instead of moving back he pushes forward, just a little bit, carefully rubbing against the metal. He shudders and lets out a tiny groan of pleasure.
"You're a sick fuck, Keller" O'Reily says with disgust, but his hand trembles a little.
Keller catches his wrist.
"And you need me, O'Reily," he says, squeezing hard "A fandango is a dance for two."
O'Reily tightens his fingers on the shank and tries to free his hand. Keller just grips it harder and increases pressure on O'Reily's neck. The little choking sound only makes him harder. He smiles and moves closer until their bodies are touching again. His prey is weakening, he feels it. He bends his head until his lips are nearly touching O'Reily's ear.
"Remember what you said? 'Whatever you need, K-boy', and I need this."
He rubs slowly against O'Reily's body and hears a soft clink of the shank slipping from O'Reily's fingers.
A gentle nip on the neck and O'Reily lets out a shuddering breath.
"Damn it," he whispers, "You get off on it."
"And you're telling me you don't?"
He presses O'Reily's hand to the hard bulge in his pants.
"Come on, Ryan" he whispers seductively, deliberately using the first name, "You don't have to do anything, just let me, I'll make you feel so good."
"No... Thanks..." O'Reily pants, still struggling to get free.
"Oh, really?" Keller says "You saying you don't want this, Ryan?"
He thrusts against the other body and O'Reily starts talking quickly in between deep breaths.
"What are you gonna... do, K-boy? Gonna fuck me... here? We get caught, you get sent to... the... hole... and Mondo Browne..."
"...gets to live," O'Reily finishes.
He sighs with relief when Keller releases him and massages his abused neck.
"Never do that again, you fuck" he says, picking the shank from the floor and hiding it away.
"Are you sure?" Keller smiles, looking deliberately at O'Reily's crotch.
And yep, the Mick's hard. Keller considers for a second trying again. He wants to see those lips moist and swollen from his kisses, wants to hear moans and gasps of pleasure, wants to feel that lean body go pliant and submissive under his. But O'Reily's right. No time and place for this now. So he lets it go, puts it off. Because Ryan "I'm no fag" O'Reily is not as impenetrable as he thinks. It'll take some time, sure. But that's something he has in excess. And no one else to keep him occupied. And that thought hurts so fucking much that Keller barely resists the urge to smash his fist against the nearest hard surface.
O'Reily leans against the wall, observing him with that half sneer of his.
"Go find Beecher if you're horny," he throws casually, pretty green eyes cold and calculating.
"Gee, I forgot. You can't. You gave away his ownership papers, didn't you?" he adds with a smirk.
Sadistic bastard. Suddenly snapping Ryan O'Reily's neck is more alluring than fucking him through the mattress.
A satisfied smile appears on O'Reily's face.
"So can we talk about Mondo Browne now?" he asks.
"I'm all yours, baby," Keller says. "What's your plan?"