Search Engine |
Random Story |
Beta'd by Erin.
Points of View - part 3 - "Hybrid"
Running his long fingers up and down Toby's spine, pushing up his T-shirt just a little and slipping his hand underneath it. Curling those fingers possessively - yet, oddly tender - around his waist.
While Beecher gasps, sensing the other man's hot breath settling around the back of his neck, around his shoulders like a Saharan sandstorm.
Intoxicating. Overwhelming. Hypnotic.
Like being caught in a whirlpool, sucking him deeper, lower, darker.
Until he's so far out there he can't find his way back, can't even remember where he's supposed to be going back to in the first place.
Unconscious. Completely lost.
Tobias Beecher's own personal morass to drown himself into.
Into oblivion. Most of the time...
The purest form of mind numbing pleasure he can taste nowadays.
This thing Chris keeps calling *love*...over and over and over, like in a dream: 'I love you, Toby...I love you, Toby...I fucking love you, Toby...'
(--'I love you too much...')
Something that sometimes sounds to Beecher more like a threat, a silent, slow-running sign of warning.
Something that stinks of...fear. Obsession. Desperation.
Something so abnormal he knows it has to be dangerous. And that he should run away from it, he should run like hell and never look back.
But...can he? Could he really run away, even if he wanted that?
Would Chris let him?
Would he ever let go?...
Toby's seen Keller at his worst, he knows all too well what the man is capable of. No point in going that way, the situation would be completely out of Beecher's hands. It would all be in Chris' hands.
(--'And...that's not good.'--)
How can one handle such an unpredictable, difficult wild beast with the hope of escaping its tight grip with only minor bruises?
What can one use?
*This*, Beecher thinks, bitterly.
Just like with...Schillinger. Go along to get along. Cause you do have *somewhere* to get to.
(--'This thing, right here.'--)
Feeling Chris' forehead dipping into his hair, mumbling something in his sleep. Fingers clutching around Toby's stomach, Keller's knees nudging at the back of his own knees.
So close they're practically breathing in and out at the exact same pace.
Like some hybrid animal...
(--'This thing, right here'...--)
So good, so right. So painful.
So unlike anything.
And Toby knows he's full of shit, he's just fooling himself. Deluding his own lawyer-brain with stupid, meaningless, false ideas about what his relationship with Chris is all about, trying to lay out rational patterns for something that has nothing to do with rationality.
Because, if he is honest with himself - he doesn't want to run.
(not right now, anyway)
And he doesn't feel used. Or like he's using...
(most of the time)
And he's definitely NOT going along to get along. Not with Chris.
'Chris himself wouldn't want that', Beecher muses.
(--'This thing right here...is DIFFERENT.'--)
Powerful. Theirs. Toby's.
Something in which Beecher feels he actually matters, has some kind of control over. For the first time in his life, maybe.
(--and I am his.)
And he ain't never gonna let go.
(--'Toby thinks I don't care. He probably thinks I don't even notice.'--)
Keep your thoughts to yourself, you know she wouldn't want to hear about that. She can't handle it...and, I guess, that doesn't make her such a good shrink. After all.
But you've already showed her *that*. No need for a repeat.
Just be glad she's still talking to you after all the shit you've pulled, Chris-to-pher.
Sitting there, squinting from behind her glasses, distant and suspicious.
And, to that, Chris just can't help himself but smile a little.
*Yeah, like you were ever trustworthy!*
Trying her best to keep a safe distance and at the same time trying not to seem...dismissive. Cold.
(--'Just like Tobe. On his bad days. When he's not being a bitch, that is.'--)
Sister Peter Marie and Tobias Beecher, GOD's little children. His *chosen* ones...
The ones Chris *almost* fucked.
(Well, one of them he did FUCK...)
--the other...is sitting right across from him at the table, a small part of her (the not-so-holy part) truly *hating* his guts, Chris could place a bet on it.
The ones he's managed to fuck over.
(From a looong line...)
And, surprisingly enough, to feel bad after doing it. To feel sorry. Guilty.
Never mind the real motives behind that sudden sense of guilt, that sorrow...it was something, a part of himself that Chris embraced with his arms open wide - that sense of being capable of real remorse.
No matter how much it hurts, what a hassle it is, at the end of the day.
The thing that makes you human.
The thing that tells you that you DO feel. Genuinely.
Not just faking it, like always. Really feel...
And that is what Chris wants.
To have what Toby has, to gain full access to those parts of him that seem so unusual, so alien to Chris he can't help himself trying to get deeper and deeper, to dig into him and grab those things and never let go. 'Cause he knows that's what makes Toby tick, what keeps him going.
What makes him so goddamn fascinating.
So appealing. Addictive.
Those parts no one got to see, Chris muses, not his dead wife, nor his parents. And, definitely, not *Vern*.
Digging in dirt, crawling through and swallowing shit and gold and come, getting yourself all tied up in knots over trying to get to the *real* Beecher, that thing you know lies inside him, that thing you can sometimes sense , like an itch you just can't locate long enough to find it and scratch 'til it bleeds, 'til it turns all raw and painful.
Familiar. Easy to conquer.
(--'Yeah, right, keep dreaming, Chris... Like you'll ever *get* Beecher! The guy won't even let you touch him, some days...'--)
And...why does it matter so much to you, something as insignificant as that?
How WEAK is that?!...
Remembering that squint of Toby's, kind of like the type Sister Pete's throwing at him right this moment as he rambles on about meaningless shit he knows she doesn't buy for a second.
The kind of shit she knows *he* knows she doesn't buy...both of them knowing they'll never really get to something truly important. Just because.
And when they do *hit* something, they both know it was just an accident...both getting sloppy and careless for a second. Things that always should be carefully avoided.
His mind wandering a little...remembering something apparently meaningless, unimportant. Small.
Sometime that week, two or three days back...
Sitting next to Beecher in front of the TV, sitting really, really close, his eyes flickering just for a second in the direction of one of the C.O.'s who doesn't seem to have anything better to do than stare at them. Like he's bought tickets to some freak show.
(Wanting so much to put one arm around Beech's shoulders and hold him tight. Just to hold him.)
Then looking at Toby - headphones on, seeming truly interested in the shit that's on TV.
Not even noticing Keller's one...two...three seconds stare...or Chris suddenly, abruptly looking in a completely different direction.
As if trying to hide something from the other man.
And meeting O'Reily's (*natch!*) inquisitive stare, Ryan grinning mockingly and slightly nodding his head...
(Like he's fucking psychic or something!)
Making Chris bite his lips violently, his blood suddenly starting to boil.
Anger and hate and annoyance all in one big fireball bouncing through his gut, going straight to his groin.
Feeling his knees shiver, and nudging Toby's leg with his a little too hard, making the other man give him a small ugly squint,
(*disapproving*,that's the word...)
snorting and moving his legs a bit further from Keller. Moving his entire fucking being, actually.
While Chris can't help but feel like pummeling
(or fucking--or killing...or holding, kissing, fucking, punching his fucking lights out--biting him 'til he draws blood...motherfucking whiny cunt!)
the other man right the fuck there, with everybody (hacks included) present and ready to intervene.
A feeling so fucking intense Chris supposes one day something really *bad*, something MAJOR will happen between the two of them, enough to change both their lives forever.
This thing right here's got to burst, boil over. (Explode)
It can't just...recede.
It's just too powerful.
None of them can let that happen.
(*Chris* can't let *that* happen.)
Or, as Keller likes to believe, when he manages to even freak *himself* out every time he thinks about it, neither Beecher nor Chris have any control over what goes on between them.
It's out of their hands.
(And...ain't that convenient?!...)
Or, maybe, just maybe...
(Maybe Toby's playing him.)
Chris shifts his position, crossing his ankles and shuffling his legs under the chair. Feels his jaw clench and his dark blue eyes slowly seem to get darker. Liquid.
Maybe Toby's the one running things...ever since Tobe took him back.
(*took him back*--hah! sounds pathetic, don't it?!)
He's always had the upper hand, Chris is fully aware of that: after all, Keller was the one running after him, NOT the other way around.
(--'And...I got him, didn't I? Didn't I?!...'--)
I've got him...but how much of him do I actually have? What *part* of him?
Probably not the one that matters...
Probably the same one Vern--that motherfucker, that rapist--got.
Same one anyone would get, given the right circumstances.
(--'But he loves me. He said he loves me, he said he loves me. He's got to... He. Said. He. Loves. Me.'--)
Yeah, like you've never told anyone you love them just to get whatever you were after.
Like you don't know how useful it is to lie about it.
But...Beecher's not like me.
He can't fake it, I read it in his eyes, that day, in the laundry-room.
So fucking *real*, so straightforward.
So honest, I...fell. Really fucking deep.
He means...meant every word.
...And I told him I love him back...
(--and I actually meant it.)
So, it would seem, they're both just as fucked. Trapped.
And no one seems to be in any rush to break loose, yet...so why do you whine, Chris?
As long as things don't REALLY spin out of control and Toby STAYS...AROUND, there's nothin' to worry about. Right?
(--'Still...Beecher thinks I don't care.'--)
And, if he tries hard enough, he can pretend he doesn't even *notice* it.
'Cause...he's used to it. *Pretending*.
Even if it always hurts.
(End of fucking session.)
---end of part 3/4---
Please send feedback to Ralu.