Sleight of Hand (2/?)

by Maverick

"Ok, slide your hand lower. Lower. Spread your fingers, now flick the wrist and rotate. Easy. Just a bit more. Fuck," Chris said as the card key Toby was trying to slide back into Chris's pocket dropped to the ground. "That was better, up until you dropped it. At least this time you didn't accidentally bump into my chest like some teenager groping his first set of tits."

Toby sniffed. "Thanks. Your encouragement is overwhelming there Keller," he said, sarcasm thick in his voice as he picked the card key off the floor. Lowering his head in defeat, he leaned against the corner of the dresser. "I'm beginning to think this is a lost fucking cause. Let's face it, I don't think pick-pocket is a viable career option for me." He raised his head to meet Chris's eyes in the mirror.

Chris hopped up onto the dresser next to where Toby was standing and absentmindedly scratched his stomach. Turning his head to face Toby, he winked. "Well not everyone can be as good with their hands as I am. Plus you ain't really pick-pocketing, you're just returning what I've already stolen. So stop pouting and try again."

"As this whole plan of yours hinges on me getting the key back in Browne's pocket, I would think you'd be a little more worried about my general ineptness," Toby said as he walked over to the window.

"Jesus Christ Beecher, quit beating yourself up. Do you think I learned how to do this overnight?"

Toby just glared at Chris.

"Ok, I did, but as I said not everyone has my talents. You'll get it. I've got faith." Chris walked over to where Toby stood. "Let's try again," he said and held out the keycard.

Toby couldn't believe that it had only been three weeks since Chris had sauntered over to his table with his full proof plan and stolen wallet. In that time, they had ironed out the details of their partnership. Toby would get access to the information he needed, and Chris would get the diamonds. It was a mutually beneficial agreement. And his not informing his superiors about this little agreement didn't meant it was the wrong approach. Sure it was technically illegal, but it's not like he'd never been ordered to commit or had to resort to even more illegal activities. It was all part of the job. He'd learned long ago that as long as his methods got the powers that be the information they needed, they wouldn't question his methods. And of course if they didn't know about his methods, that was even better.

Considering his line of work, he shouldn't be too surprised, he was getting a crash course in the intricate maneuvers necessary to slip the card key to Busmalis's office back into the jacket pocket of Mondo Browne, but even after all this time undercover, he'd hadn't worked with someone else on a case since his very first assignment. What could he say, near death experiences made him a little gun shy to trust anyone.

But the deal with Keller was working out just fine. Not only was he the most talented grifter Toby had ever seen, he read people better than a fucking psychic. So when Chris said Mondo Brown was the perfect patsy, Toby didn't question it. Mondo, who was fresh from prison and liked to settle disputes with his fists. He was a thug through and through, and so he added that element of fear that kept Busmalis's competitors at a healthy distance.

Trying once more to slide the card back into Chris's pocket, Toby found himself grinning as he remembered the conversation where Chris had explained why Mondo should be the target.

"You're insane. Why the fuck would Mondo be interested in me? He doesn't seem like the type that swings both ways."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"Meaning, Mondo likes his dick sucked. And he learned in prison that it really doesn't matter who does the sucking. He gets off on the power aspect so someone like you is a perfect candidate."

"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

"Come down Beecher. All I'm saying is you come across as someone who Browne could easily manipulate into doing what he wants."

"I'm not easy."

"Believe me, I get that Beecher. But Browne ain't the type of guy who's gonna look beneath the surface. He sees you as weak, an easy mark. And before you get all pissy on me, I'm not saying you aren't really some tenacious motherfucker who would bite his dick off instead of sucking it."

"What are you saying then?"

"That we should use Browne's stupidity against him. Well that, and you should be careful when you're around him."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but I just got you broken in and we're this close to putting the plan in action. I don't want to have to start over from scratch with your replacement."

"Your concern is touching Keller."

"What can I say, I'm a touching kind of guy." //

And now that touching guy was telling him to take his shirt off. Toby shook his head and looked at Chris blankly. "What did you say?"

Chris smiled. "This isn't working. Take your shirt off."

Folding his arms across his chest, Toby tilted his head to the side and just stared at the other man.

"Take your shirt off," Chris said more forcefully.

Toby didn't know why, but he pulled his polo shirt up and over his head. "Why exactly am I stripping?" he asked as he threw his shirt on the bed.

"Undershirt as well. Then go stand in front of the mirror."

Again, Toby just stared.

"Christ Beecher, I'm not gonna cop a feel, will you just do it already." Chris took the suit coat he was wearing off and walked over to where Toby stood in front of the dresser's mirror. "Here put this on," he said handing Toby the coat.

Toby slipped the coat on and met Chris's eyes in the mirror. "If your plan was to make me feel even more like an idiot, it's working."

Taking the card key out of Toby's hands, Chris moved until he was standing directly behind the other man. He met Toby's eyes in the mirror as he whispered in his ear. "You're missing the point. You're concentrating on the mechanics. You need to relax. I'm gonna show you where misdirection and distraction meet."

"And I need to be shirtless for the lesson?" Toby asked turning around to face Chris.

Chris turned Toby back around and met his eyes once more in the mirror. "I don't want anything blocking your view of my hands." Chris waved the card key in front of Toby's face. "Watch me," he whispered as he slipped the card key up his sleeve.

Toby watched Chris in the mirror. He was mesmerized by the long fingers that ghosted across his chest, absolutely sure that nothing had been put into that jacket pocket. He watched until Chris's hand pulled back and brushed against his thigh. Kind of clumsy for a professional, he thought, right before he caught Chris's wide-mouthed grin in the mirror.

"Check your pocket," Chris said, turning and leaning his hip on the dresser.

Toby shook his head. "No way, no fucking way," he said as he pulled the card key out of the jacket pocket. "How the fuck did you do that? I was watching."

"You were watching my right hand, correct?" Chris said. He walked to the bed to get Toby's shirt.

Toby took off the suit jacket and slipped his polo shirt back on. "Yeah, I guess. That's the arm you slipped the card key up your sleeve."

Chris chuckled. "You sure?"

"Yes, I saw you do that," Toby said. He folded his arms across his chest.

"You saw what I wanted you to see. I purposely made you concentrate on my right hand while I was slipping the key in the pocket with the other."

Toby sat down on the bed and sighed. "There's no way in fuck I'm ever gonna be able to pull that off."

"You don't have to be that good, Beecher. You just need to figure out a way to distract Mondo without him knowing you're doing it. It's simple."

Toby snorted. "Yeah simple. For you maybe. Well gee, I guess I could offer to suck his dick."

Chris laughed. "I think even Mondo might remember that. Hey do you play pool?"


"Nine Ball or anything like that?" Chris said as he slipped his room key back into his wallet.

Toby walked to the mini refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. After taking a swig, he said, "Sure. I wouldn't say that I'm good at it."

"You don't have to be good. But you do understand the mechanics of the game?"


Chris stood up and patted Toby on the back. "Then we've got a plan. You just need to think of yourself as the cue ball. And..."

"And I use a different ball to sink the shot."

"Exactly. It's perfect. Even if you fuck up, which I don't think you will, wee will have someone else to blame it on," Chris said with a smile.


Toby awoke suddenly, unsure of his surroundings. It took a minute to realize he was home in his own bed. He reached for Chris, but that side of the bed was cold and empty. He grabbed the bedspread and wrapped it around himself before making his way down the hall. He found Chris in the kitchen loading the dishwasher.


"Hey. What are you doing up? Go back to sleep."

Toby walked over to Chris and hung his hands over his lover's shoulders. He pouted just a little. "I woke up, and you were gone."

Chris shrugged. "I figured I should clean up this sty."

"Come back to bed," Toby said nuzzling Chris's neck.

Chris pulled away and began stuffing newspapers into a trash bag. "Let me finish this up."

Toby grabbed Chris by the arm. "No, I've been gone too fucking long. Come back to bed."

Chris could see the desperation and need spread across Toby's face. So he dropped the bag of trash and took hold of Toby's outstretched hand.

When Toby woke up hours later, the other side of the bed was again cold. The sun was streaming through the blinds, and he fumbled for his watch, seeing it was nearly one o'clock in the afternoon. He got out of bed and stretched, trying to wake up his still tired muscles. Heading to the bathroom, he stopped at the dresser and grabbed a pair of boxers and one of Chris's wifebeaters. He pulled the shirt on as he walked through the house, a sense of dread running through him.

Everything was clean. Too clean. All the trash was gone; the dirty dishes had been washed and put away. The kitchen floor had been mopped until it shined, and the living room had been vacuumed and dusted. Everything was back in perfect order, which meant Chris was pissed. Royally and completely pissed.

Toby knew the joy and relief Chris had felt the night before had been eaten away by the anger and fear that had kept him company while Toby was gone. He couldn't blame him. He knew he would go completely insane if he came home and found Chris gone, especially if he didn't know if he was alive or dead. Toby knew how Chris operated, he would keep it bottled up inside letting the anger and fear churn and build. He wouldn't let it out, he wouldn't let it go until Toby made him, until Toby pushed and prodded and finally broke through that thick line of defenses. He knew where he would find him. There was only one place he could be.

Stopping at the doorframe, Toby watched Chris bent over, perfect ass on display, shoving mounds of clothes into the dryer. He placed each hand on either side of the doorframe and stretched. The creaking wood made Chris spin around and meet Toby's eyes. "Laundry? You hate doing laundry," Toby said with a smile.

"Well we all do things we don't like to do, don't we Beecher?" Chris turned back to the washing machine.

Toby walked fully into the room and leaned back against the doorframe. "You should have woken me up. I would have helped."

Chris poured the detergent into the machine and closed the lid. "While I realize I ain't Harvard educated like yourself, even a dumb fuck like me can separate the whites from the colors."

Toby sighed, knowing for sure there was no way to avoid the fight now. "Chris," he pleaded, knowing his tone would set Chris off.

"Don't Chris me, all right. I ain't in the fucking mood," Chris said as he headed for the door.

Toby blocked his path and put his hands on Chris's shoulders. "What are you in the mood for?"

Batting Toby's hands away, Chris tried to step around Toby, but the other man stopped him. "You don't want to know Beecher, now get the fuck out of my way."

"Christ, you can be one cranky motherfucker. If doing laundry makes you so ornery, then let's hire a housekeeper." Toby squared his legs to completely block the door.

"Fuck you Beecher. You know this ain't about laundry. Now let me out of the room."

Toby shook his head and stared Chris down. "No. You're not leaving here until you admit what's got you so worked up."

Running his hands down Toby's outstretched arms, Chris leaned in close. "You're no match for me. And you know it, so get the fuck out of my way," he said menace clear in his voice.

"You want out, you're gonna have to fight me. Or is that what you want Keller? You want to beat the shit out of me for being late, for making you worry."

Chris balled his hands into fists and leaned into Toby. "You're really asking for it Beecher."

"You're right I am," Toby said. He shut the door with his foot and then leaned back against it. "Let me have it Keller, I'm not afraid of you."

Stepping back and leaning up against the wall next to the washer, Chris folded his arms across his chest. "And if I really don't feel like talking about it?"

Toby walked over and placed his hands on the wall on either side of Chris's body. "Too bad, you're not leaving this room until it's settled."

Chris nodded his head and smiled with no warmth. "That's right. I forgot. Everything has to happen on your schedule. What anyone else wants doesn't fucking matter."

"Well, it is my world now isn't it," Toby said with a sniff.

Chris banged his head back against the wall in frustration. "You wanna talk. We'll talk. Why the fuck were you so late? What were you doing?"

"Chris," Toby said looking in his lover's eyes. "You know I can't tell you that. Just know I got home as soon as I could."

"Bullshit." Chris pushed Toby, shoving the other man back against the door. Pacing back and forth like a caged animal, Chris finally turned back to Toby. "I'm just supposed to buy that line of crap?"

Toby put his hand on Chris's chest. "It's not crap Chris. I did what I had to do to make the case."

"And you won't discuss it with me. So what was the holdup Toby? Found someone new to fuck?"

"Yep, you found me out Keller. That's why I was late. It had nothing to do with the case. I was just too busy fucking to notice the time," Toby said as he pushed Chris back against the washer. "Why the hell would I want to come home to you when I can stick my dick into any number of nameless, faceless people."

A sound caught somewhere between a bray of pain and a growl of anger erupted from Chris as he shoved Toby away from him and into the wall. "You miserable little cunt. You leave me alone while you're off getting your rocks of. Was it good for you? Did you enjoy it Beecher?" Chris asked grabbing Toby's shoulders and shaking him.

Of course the truth was he hadn't fucked anyone, man or woman, since Chris had barged his way into his life and heart. But he knew, they both knew, that some day that could change. When working undercover, you did what you had to do to get the information you needed or to survive. So he couldn't make Chris promises of that's never going to happen. They both knew the score. But he wanted to be able to make that promise to Chris, and as soon as he was finished with the job, he would.

Back when he was married to Gen, it had been part of the game, part of the allure. State sanctioned adultery; it didn't get any better than that. He was doing it for God and Country, or at least that's what he told himself as he fucked some mark's wife or sucked some informant's dick as payment. The excitement, the rush of it all was better then alcohol, better than cocaine. So he rode that rush guilt free. But that was before Chris.

Chris, who had moved his hands from his shoulders and was now gripping his shirt, ripping and shredding the thin material until it fell to the ground. The anger in his eyes was now mixed with some sort of primal desire. He pulled Toby against him and spun him around propelling him back against the dryer and then his mouth was on his. The kiss was brutal and claiming.

Toby could taste the anger. He could taste the fear that had held Chris captive in his absence. And he let Chris feed it all to him.

"So tell me Beecher, how many women and men did you fuck this trip? Did they make you hot? Did they lick their lips when they saw the size of this huge, hard cock of yours?" Chris asked. He slid Toby's cock out through the slit in his boxers. His hands were rough as he grasped and pulled Toby's cock and massaged his balls. He made quick work of Toby's boxer shorts, finesse losing out to angry need.

"Oh yeah, everybody's always impressed by my dick. Lord knows you were," Toby said with a snort.

"You're one cocky motherfucker, aren't you Beecher?" Chris said spinning him around. "Let's see how cocky you are when I'm buried balls deep in you ass." Not taking the time to undress, Chris unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out before he reached for the fabric softener on the shelf above the dryer. Twisting the cap off, he spread Toby's legs with his knees. He covered his hand with the softener and coated his cock, and then worked his now slick fingers deep into Toby's ass.

Normally Chris would tease him, would make him squirm, but today he wasn't in a teasing mood. Toby moaned as Chris's fingers stretched him wide. It had been nine long weeks, and he was tight with anticipation. "Yeah, you would moan wouldn't you?" Chris said as he removed his fingers. He pressed Toby's torso against the dryer and entered him with one hard thrust. "Yeah, this is what you need Beecher. Me. Only me deep inside you. You can't get this anywhere else."

The burning heat of entry, a stark contrast to the cool metal against his cock, made Toby groan in agreement. He knew it wouldn't solve things. But it was what he needed...what they both needed. Punishment? Reward? He didn't see the difference. All he knew was he needed Chris deep inside him, needed him to wash away all the bullshit of the last nine weeks.

Toby spread his legs wider and pushed himself back onto Chris's cock. "Yeah Keller. Give me what I need. Fuck me. Fuck me hard."

Grabbing hold of Toby's hips, Chris did just that. He pulled Toby back onto his cock and then pushed him hard against the dryer. He repeated the action again and again. And then he stilled. It had been more than two months, and if he didn't slow it down, it would be over much to soon. Keeping Toby pinned to the dryer with his cock deep inside him, Chris ran his hand up and down Toby's thigh and torso teasing him with feather light touches. He knew what Toby needed was to be fucked fast and hard, and part of him wanted to pound into him. But another part wanted Toby to pay for being so late, for making him worry that he was dead. And at the moment, that side was winning out. Draping his body over Toby's, Chris didn't move, didn't say a word. He would make Toby beg for what he needed.

"Chriiiiiiis," Toby panted trying to push back, trying to make his lover move.

"What is it baby? Is this not enough for you? Too damn bad. You're on my schedule now," Chris said against Toby's ear.

Toby tried in vain to move back and forth against Chris. His cock was trapped against his stomach and the slick metal of the dryer. His body thrummed with need. He could feel Chris's cock throbbing inside him, so he squeezed his anal muscles imploring Chris to move.

His efforts were met with a growl as Chris gripped his thigh and pressed his other arm across Toby's shoulders. "You want me to move, you need me to move, but what about what I need."

"Chris, please," Toby panted. "You need it to. You need to fuck me and fuck me hard. So move, goddamn it move."

Chris pulled out and slammed back into Toby, stilling his movements once more. "How many people Toby? How many people did you fuck?"

Toby turned his head, so Chris could see his eyes. "None, Chris. None."

Pulling back slightly and rotating his hips to make sure he hit Toby's prostate, Chris bit the base of Toby's neck. "Why should I believe you? You'd say anything right now."

"Look at my eyes, Chris. You know my eyes don't lie."

Chris saw the truth there. Toby wasn't lying; there hadn't been anyone else. But that didn't make the anger or the fear disappear. Nothing would. But maybe just maybe reminding Toby about whom his ass really belonged to would help. He slid his arm under Toby's body and pulled Toby forward so that just his chest and head were pressed against the dryer. The new position gave Chris even better access to Toby's ass, but it made sure the Toby's cock got no stimulation from the dryer.

Then he began to move as Toby had asked -- as Toby had begged. Quick, hard, almost brutal thrusts punctuated by the occasional slow glide just to make Toby moan in need. "God, Toby, your ass feels so good around my cock," Chris said as he licked the back of Toby's neck. "Those fuckers don't know what they missed do they?"'

Toby wasn't sure what they Chris was talking about. All he knew was he needed to come and come right fucking now. He slid his hand down to grab his throbbing penis, but Chris stopped him and pulled his arm away. "Nah uh, baby. This is my show, remember? You only get to come when and if I let you," Chris said, picking up the pace of his thrusts once more.

Nodding his head, Toby placed his hands at the top of the dryer, surrendering himself to Chris. And in that instant, Chris forgave him.

Toby pushed his ass back against Chris, swiveling his hips, hoping that the constant stimulation against his prostate would give him the stimulation that he needed to come. But it wasn't enough. It just left him hanging on the edge. "Chriiiis," he pleaded again. "Please. Please. Please," was all he could say.

The desperation in Toby's voice drove Chris on. He thrust, once, twice, three times more and growled as his orgasm ripped through his body. As his cock began to pulse, Chris pulled Toby upright against his body, his cock shooting deep into Toby's ass. Riding out his orgasm, he snaked his hand around and pumped Toby's neglected cock. It only took three rough strokes before Toby was shooting all over the front of the dryer and the pile of clothes next to it.

Chris kept stroking Toby's cock even after he stopped coming. "Christ Beecher, you couldn't have shot all over the dirty laundry instead of the clean pile," Chris asked pulling Toby to the floor with him.

Toby chuckled and pulled Chris's mouth to his for a deep wet kiss. "I do believe you were controlling the flow of traffic there pal."

Chris kissed him back, desperation now tempered with love. So much love.

Toby didn't want to ask. Didn't want to break the spell, but he had to. "Are we ok, now Chris?"

Chris took Toby's face in his hands and ran his tongue around Toby's lips. "For now yeah," he said pulling Toby into his arms until his mouth was against Toby's ear. "But you're redoing the laundry."

Toby just nodded his head in agreement.


When Chris had called and told him to meet him at McSwaggins, Toby wasn't sure what the other man had in mind. Sure it was unlikely that they would meet up with any of Busmalis's henchmen at such an upscale yuppie bar. It was the place where powerbrokers and finance lawyers hammered out deals or just got hammered. It was the type of place that Toby knew he would have spent way too much time in if he'd taken that job with his father's law firm. And it wasn't remotely the type of place that he imagined Keller would be caught dead in.

The place was in full swing when he arrived just past six p.m. The drinks and conversations were flowing easily as he made his way to the bar. He ordered a tonic with lime and checked his watch, slightly annoyed that Chris had set up the meeting and was apparently going to keep him waiting. It was only after he took a sip of his drink that he caught the sight of someone familiar at the other end of the bar. Holy fuck, he thought. That can't be Keller.

But it was Keller, just not as Toby had ever seen him. This Keller was decked out in an expensive dark blue tailor-made suit. The suit hung perfectly on Keller's muscular frame and the bluish-gray silk shirt accented his strong chest. Even his tie looked perfect with it's varied blue diagonal stripes, one line of which matched the intense blueness of his eyes. Eyes that were now framed in expensive gold wire-framed glasses. Keller looked like he belonged among these financiers and Toby was mesmerized as he watched him.

Watched him buy the young executive seated next to him another drink. Watched him lean in and whisper into the guy's ear. And watched as that guy laughed and patted Chris on the back. He knew he was staring, but he didn't care. Keller had brought him here and now he was off working some deal, or some scam on that asshole at the other end of the bar. He was just about to saunter on down to where Chris was seated when Chris raised his finger in a "hold on a sec" motion. Toby ordered another tonic as he watched the yuppie asshole stand up and grasp Chris's hand in a firm handshake. He watched as the dick whispered something in Chris's ear as he handed him a business card. And he watched as Chris nodded his head and gave the fucker one of his Technicolor smiles.

Toby couldn't watch anymore.

Chris slid onto the barstool next to Toby with practiced ease. "Been here long?"

"What the fuck was that about?" Toby asked before he could help himself. "This arrangement of ours takes precedence over any other scams you got going, Keller. That was the deal."

Chris turned on the stool until he was facing Toby. Putting his elbow on the bar, he rested his head in his hand. "What makes you think I was working a scam, Toby? Did you ever think maybe I was just trying to get lucky?" he asked with a leer.

Toby crossed his arms against his chest. "You wanna get fucked Keller. Do it on your own time, not mine."

"Jealous?" Chris asked. He took a swig of his beer.

"Of that asshole? I don't think so," Toby said with a sniff.

Chris licked his lips. "Don't worry Beecher. I've only got eyes for you."

"Fuck you."

Chris leaned over and whispered into Toby's ear. "Would that be on my time or yours, baby?"

"I'm leaving," Toby said standing up.

Chris stood up. "Christ, you're one pissy motherfucker Beecher. Sit down and let me explain what I was doing." He pushed Toby's shoulder until he was again seated on the barstool.

"What?" Toby said, clearly annoyed.

Chris sat back down and ordered another beer. Reaching into his suit pocket, he pulled something out and the slid it across Toby's thigh. "Take it," he said, tapping the object against the inside of Toby's leg.

Toby reached down and grabbed the item from Chris's hands. "What is this?"

"That would be Mark Karachi's wallet."

"Who the fuck is Mark Karachi?"

"My friend down at the other end of the bar," Chris said, leaning close.

"You stole his wallet?" Toby tried to hand it back to Chris.

"Yep, and you're gonna put it back."

"No way. I'm not ready," Toby said, panic clear in his voice.

Chris patted his knee. "Time to saddle up, baby. It's the only way, you're gonna know if you can do it at all."


"No buts, Beecher. It's put up or shut up time. Now get over there and make me proud."


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