Title: Tasting
Author: Adriana B.
Rated: NC-17
Disclaimers: all of them belong to Tom Fontana, and I envy him for that! Archived: Unit B
Feedback: kellergirlbr@yahoo.com.br
Summary: Beecher goes to the storage room. Keller is there... with somebody else, and poor Toby has enough time to watch it. That's all. Notes: my good Brazilian friends discussed some time ago how Toby had never watched Chris having sex with somebody else. That's from this ficlet came from. In my twisted mind it happened during S4, after Browne and Shemin deaths. Yeah, in my twisted mind there'll be a sequel to it, in fact this one is part 2 of a series of five ficlets (1st part was "Watching" - it's here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/adrianabr/41037.html#cutid1). Be afraid. LOL Dedicated to Anne and Nerina, sweet girls who took their time editing this baby for me!

I like your taste, Chris.

Before you I'd never tasted a man's skin. Well, before Oz I'd never done that. And since my arrival I've done it several times.

Vern was a nightmare, I should've been traumatized by him. But then you came, and what a shock to realize I wanted to touch you, to taste you. After lies, vengeance and months of denial, I gave up and let you teach me that sex with a man could be good. You showed me how sex with you could be an unbelievable, remarkable experience. Something to be remembered forever.

The taste of your lips... do you remember our first kiss? You had drunk moonshine, your lips tasted like alcohol. I hadn't drunk for awhile, so you tasted like denied things: alcohol, tenderness, affection, love, lust... it was a brief moment, but it changed my mind forever.

I just tasted you again on that New Year's eve. Your lips were so soft then, shoving my tongue inside your mouth was heaven. Later I let it travel over your body, mapping it, learning your tastes. And I learnt many things that night.

That if I licked behind your ears, you'd purr.

That if I licked your neck, you'd sigh.

That if licked your armpits, you'd gasp.

That if I let my tongue slide over your tat, you'd moan my name.

That if I sucked your nipples, you'd be totally aroused.

That if I kissed the taut skin over your ribs, your cock would stab my chest.

That if I licked your navel, you'd grab my hair, saying my name in such a low, deep growl that I'm hard just from remembering it.

And I learned to appreciate the taste of your dick. Let's be clear: I learnt to love it.

Surprising, isn't it? I was unsure then, but it felt good in my hands and even better in my mouth.

Soft, warm, wet skin. Musky smell. The feeling of your hips under my fingers while I was holding you.

My hair on your hands. The salty taste of your come flooding my mouth, fulfilling my soul while your whispers moaning my name filled our pod.

It was a night of learning. Too many things to absorb, but we'd had enough time to learn everything about each other's body and soul. Of course, I didn't really learn about your soul.

If it'd happened, I'd have known you'd never kidnapped my kids. Right now I can't believe that I thought it was true. How could I believe that scumbag, why didn't I trust you? The very first chance I had to show how much I believed in you, to prove I trust you after all, that I loved you... I just left you with a bad taste in your mouth. Taste of betrayal. The look you gave me before leaving our pod... I hurt you really bad, I know it.

But you're a good teacher, aren't you? After all this time you're making me learn a new lesson. I'm learning it hurts a lot to watch you being tasted by another man. In this storage room where we'd hurt each other so many times you're been tasted by this Cramer person. You're hurting me one more time by letting him touch you.

He licks your neck, your armpits.

He touches your tat with a kind of reverence, then licks it too.

He sucks your nipples.

He kisses your skin.

He touches you in such an intimate way it hurts me physically.

And the worst of all is that you know I'm here. I'd come to make copies for Sister Pete, and found this little rendezvous getting started. I can't go back to her office; I can't stay here, watching him on his knees, blowing you. But I've no choice at all. You opened your eyes and caught me at the door, even smirked at me, and I'll hate you forever for doing that.

My feet seem to be glued to the ground, as I see this bitch making you breathe harder and come. I see how you caress his nape. It's the same way you used to caress mine. You dare to smile to me while doing that. Bastard, I'll hate you forever for that, too.

But then Cramer stands up to kiss you and I can't see your face anymore. That's a good thing, because I don't want you to see me when I finally move again and go away, closing the door quietly. I don't want you to see my tears. I taste them, they're salty and bitter. They're the only thing left for me to taste now.