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You should know that this fic started as a dream. Last year I had a weird one in which I was lying near Keller, it seemed we were going to have sex, but I was so unsure, remembering awful moments *I* had with Schillinger, and I started to cry and told him I couldn't do that. He had that sad look over his face, not because I wouldn't let him fuck me, but because he was sorry I'd remembered my prag life, so he decided to just touch and kiss me, while waiting for another occasion to have the full experience. Then I opened my eyes. It was a surreal dream but it made me think about Toby's feelings during their first night, probably he had some difficulties before just letting go. Then I decided to write a fic about it, from his POV, in a way to understand better what he could have thought that night. During my hospital time at January I kept writing paragraphs in my mind all the time, but after it I didn't have enough time to write them. Well, finally the time has come. Enjoy!
Rifka is the most patient and amazing beta in the world, I'll never thank her enough for helping me so much - you rock, sweetie!
Nerina was the first one to read about my dream and she didn't think I was insane (you gotta love this girl, *g*). Anyway her birthday was the final incentive I needed to write this story, so it's all for her!
by Adriana B.
"I'm not him, Toby", he whispers.
"I know, Chris."
This will be my last coherent sentence for some time. Well, that's what I thought. We're going to kiss and touch and fuck. We'll do that, he'd earned my trust and love once more, I know he'll make me feel the most desirable and loved person in the world, and it'll be good. Yes, it will, no matter what happened in the past. And we won't need to say logical sentences while doing that to say anything...
My thoughts, however, are fully sharp. We're sharing a pod again, he's back because I wanted it, but we're not alone. There's a Nazi ghost with us, hidden in the dark, smiling at me, watching us carefully, whispering in a mocking voice that if I want to do *this* again than maybe I did like what we had together.
I can't let him stay with us, not tonight. He tried very hard to break me, reduce me to a breathing soulless being, and for some time he quite succeeded. He's good at that but to his surprise and everyone else, I found my way back to the surface after reaching the bottom of a self-loathing abyss. Yeah, it seems I'd discovered some inner strength and now we've got our own private little war going on. Casualties are expected on both sides but I don't want to think about it. Not tonight.
Right now I must concentrate on these strong fingers stripping me from my shirt, touching my skin and making me tremble a little. It's caused by cold air, by lust, by this funny warm feeling inside my stomach telling me it's good to be touched in a kind way after all this time... but it's also caused by fear. There's a part of me very afraid of being broken again by these fingers. I can't shut up. I wish I could.
He seems to notice it and tells me to look at him, but it's a new *him* that I'm looking at, not the same one who coldly broke my arms and heart by saying he never loved me, a lifetime ago. This man in front of me proved by all means necessary that he does love me and he's worthy of my trust. He'll never hurt me again nor let anyone do that, even if it costs him his own safety.
He won't allow that fucking scumbag to stay in here with us. I'm sure he senses that evil presence, watching us in the shadows of our pod and preventing me from just letting go. But he intends to make me forget about it. Past is over, it's time for a fresh start, free of hate and pain. It's kind of funny we're doing this in the beginning of a new year; everybody makes plans of changing bad habits these days. I plan to find myself again in this man's arms, I suppose it'll be the ultimate closure I'll find behind these walls. I really hope to provide him closure too during this process, maybe it'll give him a sense of peace, God knows he has his own demons devouring his soul. I don't want to be one of them anymore. At least not tonight.
He removes his shirt and kisses me again, letting me feel his skin brushing mine. Last time it happened we were wrestling, he was teaching me how to protect myself from the beasts out there. Instead I learned how touching a man could be an arousing experience. Back then it was a mind game, I'm aware of that, but who cares right now? Certainly not me, as I let my hands discover his back and how soft his skin is. Not tonight, anyway.
Then I touch the scar. Well, well, I put it there, didn't I? I should be proud for leaving a permanent memory of me in his body, just like he and that fucking ass wipe bastard will be remembered by me every time the cold weather reaches my bones. But I'm not proud, it's a mark of hate, I'd rather remove it if I could. My hand freezes over it, I can't make it move for the life of me.
Obviously he notices it and whispers it's ok but I wonder if it'll be really ok someday. He takes my hand and kisses its palm. Maybe it'll be ok in the end, if he keeps making me lose my train of thought. Once he said I think too much, maybe he's right. I smile at him and bring his head back to me, I need to kiss him.
It's a powerful thing, his mouth. It said words of hate and betrayal, it lied to me. But once he kissed me in the laundry room, I was his to be taken. That's the one that's here, reducing my knees to jelly. Nobody had ever kissed me like he does, none of my girlfriends or wife or lovers. He takes me with his mouth, branding me in a way the Nazi fuck would have never thought of. Surely he'd think it's a faggy thing but it's not: these lips and tongue make me feel desirable, loved and owned.
Of course the owned part of the equation scares me, I'll never be anybody's bitch again. He doesn't need me to carry his tray or use red lipstick, though, that would be too simple. He wants to possess my soul, to be permanently etched in my thoughts and dreams as I seem to be in his. It's a scary realization, my pragdom days when I was owned. But that pathetic bastard was never able to put a finger on my soul. That's exactly what this man in my arms wants, and as a fallen angel he's a big temptation. I could easily fall for him, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to give him as much as he wants.
I've been wondering why he'd already given me so much. It can't be only a desperate need to be inside my pants, I can't believe it. During the past months he could have been killed after ratting his partners out in that gym incident but I'm sure it wouldn't have bothered him. As long as I'd understood he did it to be in my good graces again. His death would have had happened because of me, because my feelings concerned him, because I'm important to him. That's all that really matters. It scares me to realize how far he's ready to go, how willingly he'll do *anything* to be in my heart. Am I worthy of his efforts?
Am I supposed to give him all of myself showing that I truly forgave him? I'm going to give him access to my body, let him enjoy it - and make me like every minute of it too. It should be enough but I know better, this won't satisfy him. He needs to see through my eyes, to listen through my ears, to breathe through my lungs... he needs to be deep inside me, spreading himself in my blood, reaching each and every part of me. He demands all of me, he wants me unconditionally, and even so I wonder if it'll be enough.
But then he breaks the kiss, nodding suggestively in the bunk's direction and stopping my thoughts. It's up to me to decide, I'm quite sure I could say no and he'd understand. Not tonight. Because I want it, I have to know how it feels to have him inside me. I just sit on the edge of the bottom bunk and look at his face. There are shadows over it but I can see his eyes, dark blue gems shining in the dark. I've seen these eyes following me everywhere, watching me from lights on to lights out. From doing laundry, even though he hates doing it, to Miss Sally's time, I know he was aware of all my steps. Probably he can say how many times I left eggs untouched on my tray because they didn't smell good. Even when we were locked in different pods his eyes followed my movements, watching me from the distance when I was getting ready to sleep. I think he somehow knows what I did in the infirmary even when he was in solitary. He knows everything about me, doesn't he?
That's another surprising thought. He knows about the ones I killed too - he can't be totally sure about the Aryan hack but he's sure I'm capable of doing that. There's his stabbing in the storage room. I think he doesn't like to think about it, but he'd understand if I confessed that to him. You do what you have to do, right? The Nazi little heir, he knows my hands have that boy's blood. And of course he knows about the cock-biting incident. It's a wonder that he wants to be with me, I really need to understand what those eyes saw in me that even knowing about my dark side he still wants to be in the same pod I'm in.
The ghost hidden in the dark tells me that *I* should be the one worried about being locked in with him again, he had betrayed me once, he could easily do that twice and I probably wouldn't see it coming again. How do you shut up a ghost? Problem is, it's not an apparition, but my fears threatening to come to surface. I've been locking them in the deepest parts of my mind since I'd decided to forget about the past and try again, but they keep looking for a way to weaken my will and make me doubt. I don't want to doubt anymore, I've lived through hell here and now I want to find not heaven but a better place, a better way to survive behind these walls. I'm sure he wants it too or we wouldn't be here, breathing in each other's breath, touching each other's skin. He wants it as much as I do, and tonight we'll have it.
His fingers touch my hair and I feel a sudden urge to press my mouth on his belly. My lips slide over it, and just when I hear him moaning my name I realize my tongue has started to play with him. I hold his waist and start licking him on purpose, just to hear him moan. He doesn't disappoint me, clutching my hair, making me smile against his skin. I should bite it, see my teeth digging their path over his skin, the mere idea is hilarious and I have to muffle a laugh. He looks to me suspiciously, not knowing what he's gotten himself in for. I take his hand, kiss it and lay on his bunk. Even though my eyes are closed, I can sense his chest moving up and down as he increases his rate of breathing. I can feel his eyes traveling over my body from head to toe, watching, as my boxers do nothing to hide my arousal. It's his time to smile and I discover it's very hard to keep pretending I'm not aware of what he's up to.
That's when I feel his hands on the waistband of my boxers carefully removing them. I lift my hips to help him, shuddering when cold air hits my cock. I'm waiting for his next move but he stands still. He doesn't touch my cock nor let the fabric touch it. His gaze travels over my body, I feel it so intensely that sweat covers my skin. I don't remember being so carefully examined before, not even during a routine physical. I used to feel pain and degradation on a nightly basis, though the Nazi fuck never burned my skin with such an intense gaze; only my ass. I can't help but want this feeling to go on forever, even without seeing it I feel when his eyes reach my cock, caressing it, engulfing it with lust. No wonder it's getting harder and harder.
The bunk shifts when he kneels on it, slowly covering me with his body. I didn't see him removing his pants, the feeling of his legs and hips and cock and chest against mine is too overwhelming, I have to open my eyes. He's looking at me, he must have seen something wrong in them because he says my name, not moving at all, waiting for what I'll do.
He's so near, all over me, it's hard to breathe and continue thinking. I'm not afraid of him, he wants to *please* me but it's been a very long time since someone has made me feel good. The Aryan fuck stares at me from the shadows, sarcastically asking if I was born to bottom. Damn him.
I'm hyperventilating and a quiet voice tells me to calm down and breathe, while a heavy body slides off of mine. He's lying beside me, seeming worried. I can't tell him what's going on inside my head but I'm sure he knows. His own demons play tricks with his mind, reminding him of every wrong move he's done in life. I was rotten to him too but not tonight.
He holds me, a comforting move and I feel safe in his arms. It's like when I was a kid and my father held me after a fall from my bike, I had scraped my knee. This man wants me real bad but he won't make any try if it means bringing back old ugly memories. It's when I finally realize what I feel for him. It was here all the time but I couldn't see it, too blind with hate and stubbornness. This man... no one's ever loved me like him, no one ever will. And I...
He says it. He *means* it. I feel relieved and happy as I've never felt before. Nothing will haunt me from now on, because he'll be there trying to shield me. And I want to be there for him, when he needs me but can't ask for help, shielding him against his own nightmares and fears, I want him to be relieved and happy as I am now. I want him to be happy with *me*.
We kiss, lips and tongues tasting all available skin. His mouth reassures me of his feelings and of mine. I know I'll never regret my decision of being with him again.
We touch, soft and strong caresses arousing us even more. I want him. I need him. My brain and my body agree for the first time in years. My cock seems to have a life of its own, pulsating, leaking precum, brushing him. I'd never feel like that before, so eager for more. Oh yes, I need him, I know it won't be like anything I ever had before, it'll be better, much better than I could even imagine.
We fuck. He's so deep inside me now, I almost cry his name out loud but he sees it coming and bites my lower lip. We moan and beg, the silence of our pod being filled with our craving for each other's body. He's on top of me, his weight keeping me from moving when his cock gently hits something inside me. What was that? I never knew there was something *there* that could make me feel this way. Obviously he knew because he does it again and again, making me moan every fucking time. God, this man is going to drive me crazy...
He's stroking my cock harder, making me come between sobs and tears. My orgasm triggers his own and he comes too, moaning my name while his semen fills my body. Spit and semen and sweat mix into a glue that should keep us bound forever..
His trembling body crushes mine but I don't care. His chin finds a spot on my shoulder and rests there, his face brushing mine. I hear his breath calming, he tries to move but I hold him tight, keeping him inside of me as long as possible. He sighs and kisses my shoulder. Eventually he'll have to move but not yet. For now there's just this sensation of being absurdly free while underneath him, freer than I've ever felt in my life. No one stares from shadows. No guilt tries to take a grip on my heart. Not tonight. Not anymore. Not for me.
* * * * *
"I love you, Chris", I whisper.
"I know, Toby."
This is my first coherent sentence tonight after some time. We're smiling at each other, like teenagers do when they're living their first love. Bunk's a mess, we're not clean yet but none of us gives a damn about it. His eyes are shining and it's a beautiful thing. I think he's happy. It's good to make someone happy, specially after all the hate I'd given him last year. It's over now, replaced by a stronger emotion.
I hold him, resting my head under his chin, listening to his heartbeats. They say, "To-bee, To-bee, To-bee..."
He caresses my hair, sighing in it.
I'm happy. There's nothing more I want. Not tonight. Not at all.
- the end -
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