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Posted May 2005. Originally posted to TS Feb 2005.
He and Chris were wrestling. Two hard bodies were straining, writhing, fumbling for a hold; each trying desperately to overpower the other and pin him to the ground. Beecher felt so hot, so breathless, covered by Keller's muscled body; he could inhale nothing but Chris's scent, his sweat and heated skin.
Suddenly their shirts were gone. Toby didn't know where they'd gone, but he didn't mind the loss. He revelled in the feeling of Keller's sweaty torso gliding against his own; the rounded curves of muscles, and hard points of his nipples. He felt Chris's hot breath against his ear and cried out, feeling how hard he was getting, wondering if Chris could feel it too, hoping that he could.
Keller shifted slightly and Beecher could feel Chris's own erection pressed up against his leg - it felt so incredible, so...naked. Toby realised that there was no cloth separating them anymore; their pants were gone. He glanced up and saw that the gym had disappeared. They were in the showers now; naked and wrestling on the tiled floor, while the showerheads sprayed scalding water on them from high above.
Beecher had never felt so hot. It was like his whole body was burning, but he didn't want it to end; not for a second. The water was sluicing over their naked bodies, letting them glide together even more easily than their sweat had when they were in the gym. Keller raised his head and looked down into Toby's face. Beecher thought he looked as beautiful as he had that first morning they'd taken a shower together; water droplets running in random patterns down the sides of his face like tiny rivers over his smooth skin; dark hair wet and slick as a seal; hot eyes, so fucking intense, so *blue*, gazing at Beecher so reverently, so imploringly.
Hot breath against his ear again. "I love you, Toby."
Seemingly without getting up, Beecher was now standing, bent over the low wall in front of the showers. He tensed, remembering the last time he was in this position.
//Get undressed, we're taking a shower.//
//I already took a shower.//
//Oh, that's ok. When I'm done with you, you'll need another one.//
No, goddammit! This wasn't Schillinger, this was Keller. Keller's heated body pressed up behind him, Keller's lips against the back of his neck, Keller's hands gently rubbing his ass and parting his cheeks. Toby gasped at the sweet penetration; Chris was inside him, Chris was in love with him. It was as beautiful as it could ever be. He let out a long, low moan......
Which died in his throat as a sickening, cruel voice whispered in his ear, "You like that, huh sweetpea?"
"NOOOO!" Beecher screamed, trying desperately to get away. But for some reason he couldn't move. Schillinger wasn't even restraining him, but he still couldn't run, still couldn't *move*. Toby screamed in impotent rage and wept pitifully as the sweet feeling inside him turned to blinding pain; chafing, tearing, *wrenching*.
He felt the tears running down his cheeks; the blood running down his legs. His throat burned from screaming, but nobody came to his rescue. Where was Chris? Chris would save him. He worked up his energy for another scream, "CHRISSSSS! CHRIS, HELP MEEEE!"
He was sobbing, gasping, desperate. Chris didn't come. And all the while Schillinger whispered in his ear, "You like it don't you, sweetpea? You *always* liked it..."
"Aagghhh!" Beecher woke with a scream.
What the fuck? He looked around, trying to get his bearings. Pod. Night. Chris's bed. No Schillinger, no shower, it was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. He was safe.
Toby lay back, still shuddering, covered in sweat. He buried his face in Keller's pillow, hoping for a reassuring whiff of Chris's scent, but three nights of sleeping in Chris's bed had chased off any lingering hints of his smell. All Beecher could smell now was himself. And alcohol.
He reached under the mattress for the bottle of booze he'd stashed there; it was still about a quarter full. He hated himself for his weakness, but that didn't stop him from taking a healthy swig from the bottle. Just to calm himself down, right? (*Right*).
What the fuck had that dream been about? He could understand the part with Chris - he'd never admit it to anyone but himself, but he'd had several naked-wrestling-with-Keller themed dreams since the first time they really had wrestled. But Schillinger? Toby hadn't had a Schillinger nightmare in a long time.
Taking another careful mouthful from the bottle with his left hand, Beecher reached down into his boxers with his right. Despite the horrible turn his originally pleasant dream had taken, he was still half hard. He felt slightly sick with himself because of it. He remembered Schillinger's mocking voice in his dream. He knew it wasn't true; he hadn't liked it, he'd *never* liked it.
He lay there in the warm, fuzzy cocoon of half-drunkeness and focussed on the images of Chris his mind had conjured up, letting his fingers stroke lazily up and down his tender length. He knew that he and Chris would fuck when Keller came back from the hole. Chris had been trying to get into his pants ever since his arrival in Em City, and after that scorching kiss in the laundry room, Beecher was finally prepared to let him do that. He loved Keller, loved him desperately, but it was more than that. He wanted him too. He wanted Keller to kiss him, touch him, love him. Toby could feel his dick hardening under his fingers, thickening, lengthening. Christ, he wanted Keller here now. He wanted it to be Chris's fingers on his dick, Chris touching him so deliberately, so intimately.
He stopped the motion of his hand as he recalled the part of the dream where Chris had bent him over and entered him. He'd never dreamt about that before. He'd dreamt and imagined being naked with Keller, kissing, touching ... sucking. But never fucking. That was something he hadn't let himself think about, all because of Vern and what that Nazi fuck had done to him. Toby figured that was probably why the dream had turned into a nightmare.
He heaved a sigh and downed the rest of the booze in several long gulps. Stowing the empty bottle back under the mattress and settling back onto the bed, Beecher stared at the bottom of his own mattress above him. Fucking Vern, he thought to himself. If he didn't get a grip on his fears, memories of Vern could end up ruining whatever it was he had now with Chris. He loathed and feared getting fucked by Schillinger, but getting fucked by Chris? Making love with Chris? God he longed for it.
It would be good between the two of them, Toby knew it would be. The kiss they had shared told him that. The way Chris made him feel loved and special and desired told him that. But memories of Schillinger's abuse told him it would hurt, told him it would make him feel ashamed. That's not right, Beecher thought. It would never be like how it was with Vern because Chris would never do anything to make him feel pain or shame. Chris would never want anything that would hurt Toby.
He heard the echo of Keller's "I love you" in his mind, and trembled with the feelings of passion this man stirred up inside of him, and the ache of longing for him to be here right now. Beecher's hand started moving purposefully on his dick, gripping firmly and stroking swiftly. He imagined it was Chris's hand. He pictured Chris looming over him, looking down into his face, eyes full of love and lust. He imagined Chris's cock inside him, moving slowly and gently, filling him. Oh God he wanted that for real, that sensation of being filled. He suddenly felt so empty.
Toby thought about it for a moment. He felt slightly embarrassed about it, but he knew what he had to do. He let go of his dick and stripped off his boxers and T-shirt, ending up naked under the blanket. He brought his left hand to his mouth and sucked two fingers into his mouth. He imagined for a moment that they were Chris's cock and felt a surge of heat in his groin. Toby removed the fingers from his mouth and turned on his side. He reached down behind himself and worked his fingers into the cleft of his ass. He slowly pushed one finger into the tight little hole. It wasn't too bad, but it didn't feel particularly great either. He felt the grasping heat around his finger and understood how it could feel good for Keller though. Fuck, he wanted to give that to him, give Chris this kind of pleasure.
He gently added a second finger, stretching himself. An image of Vern flashed through his mind, but he angrily chased it away. He started moving the fingers in and out slowly. Mmmm......that was starting to feel kind of good actually. He wondered what would happen if he moved his fingers in as deep as they could go......and had to bite his lip to stop himself from yelling out loud with pleasure. Jesus Christ! What the fuck had he just touched? Toby dug his fingers in again, deeper, harder, stroking that spot over and over. He wrapped his other hand back around his dick and stroked up and down, as his fingers continued to move inside him. He couldn't stop a low moan from escaping his lips at this double sensation. It was fucking *insane* just how good this felt.
But he stopped his movements abruptly as that cruel whisper echoed through his mind again, "You *always* liked it..."
Beecher had tried to push the memories of Schillinger's abuse from his mind completely; just repress the whole thing like it had never happened. But he couldn't stop the memories from breaking free now. Remembering how Vern had been the one to introduce him to that sweet spot inside himself that he hadn't even known about - the sparks of arousal that had coursed through him occasionally when Vern shoved a bit harder than his usual quick, shallow, punishing thrusts. Toby had always felt sick with himself for responding to Schillinger's touch this way, loathing his traitorous body with an intensity that made his insides burn. It had brought to mind horrible stories he'd heard about some female rape victims who felt traumatic guilt and self-hate because their bodies had betrayed them, orgasming during the assault.
Toby had comforted himself with the knowledge he'd never actually gone so far as to come while Vern was raping him ... but that comfort hadn't lasted long. Schillinger, with the horrifying ability he seemed to have to identify a person's worst fear and use it against them had figured out that something far more crippling for Beecher than being raped would be to make him *enjoy* it.
It had only happened once. As sadistic as Vern was, he really didn't like making accommodations for someone else's pleasure. Besides, once was enough. One night he'd made Toby stroke himself while he was fucking him. And once again Toby's body had betrayed him, only this time the betrayal had spilled out over his fingers and made him sob with shame. He hadn't cried since the first rape. But he cried that night.
These memories were killing Toby now. He tried to ignore them. He tried to forget. Christ, he wished he had some more booze to drown this out with. Suddenly he realized that his hand was moving on his dick again. Jesus, Toby, you are one sick fuck, he thought as the fingers inside him sought out that sweet spot again. It felt too good to stop.
He knew in his head that he hadn't enjoyed being raped. That it was simply his body's biological reaction; it had been the emptiest, coldest, most purely physical orgasm he'd ever experienced. But that didn't stop the guilt or the shame. Then he heard that other whisper in his head again, "I love you, Toby."
Toby let out a sigh as he realized he was no longer alone. He closed his eyes and kept them shut tight as his mind brought Chris to life so he was right here with him. He felt Keller's warm bulk move into the bed behind him. The fingers on him and in him became Chris's fingers. He gasped as Chris touched him tenderly. He could feel Keller's hot breath on his ear as he started whispering again. "You're not alone, Toby, you're not. Not anymore, baby, and never again. I love you so much, I'll never hurt you; you're safe with me, Toby. I love you, baby."
Oh God, this was what Toby wanted, *needed*. To feel this kind of love for the first time in so long. To know that there was someone in this shit hole who truly cared about him. His family had all but abandoned him, but with Keller he didn't feel alone anymore. He didn't feel afraid anymore. He loved Chris so much for this that he couldn't help but want to touch him, and be touched by him. It had nothing to do with Schillinger - it wasn't shameful or sickening - this thing he had with Keller ... it was beautiful. It was pure. It was love.
Toby could feel Chris's hand moving faster on his dick, his fingers pressing against that spot again. He let out a soft groan. "Chris..."
He remembered that sweet, hot kiss in the laundry room. He remembered Chris telling him he loved him. He remembered Chris reassuring him that he wasn't alone. "Oh Jesus Christ ..." A single tear slipped down his cheek as his body spasmed, his release spurting between Chris's sheets.
Beecher opened his eyes. The image of Chris disappeared, leaving him cold in the bunk. He moved his hands away from his body and wished for the thousandth time that fucking McManus would hurry up and let Keller out of the hole. He knew now more than ever just how much he needed this. He couldn't hide from it anymore.
As Toby went over to the sink to wash his hands, he decided that he wouldn't waste anymore time. He wouldn't waste this love. As soon as Chris got out the hole he would tell him exactly how he felt, and what he needed from him. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and gave himself a nervous little smile. He was going to let Chris fuck him. And it was going to be incredible - he knew it. He knew it would chase all the bad memories away forever.
Toby climbed into the top bunk this time, reminding himself to wash the wet spot out of Chris's sheets in the morning. He was completely exhausted, the combination of booze and sex leaving him drifting into sleep almost immediately. He told himself there wouldn't be anymore nightmares tonight. He had the knowledge of Keller's love to keep him safe; the memory of that kiss, the anticipation of their future. Chris would never hurt him.
He just had to get through the next few days. Missing Chris, waiting anxiously for his return, was killing him. But he had his old friend alcohol to see him through. And after Chris got back ... everything would be perfect.
"I love you, Toby ..."
He fell asleep with a smile on his face.
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