Search Engine |
Random Story |
Originally requested as part of the Oz_Magi gifting at LiveJournal. Set directly between Seasons 5 and 6 of Oz.
A Touch of Iron
He's touching me.
I shut my eyes and press against the bars, reaching, straining, begging to be closer to him. He smells like that cheap shit shampoo they sell in the commissary, only to me when those curls tickle my nose it's like inhaling perfume. My fingers wind their way through his hair, and the sensation of my hand wrapped in those long, blond strands makes me ache.
He's touching me through the iron as best he can, one arm awkwardly on my hip and the other caressing my cheek. It's a torture worse than the Hole -- worse than waitin' for them to juice me -- because I can't hold him.
I can't hold him, God help me. Just fuckin' kill me now. I can't stand it.
The mail cart sits abandoned, forgotten during his visit. He sees me once a day for an hour thanks to some of the Beecher fortune lining Lopresti's pockets. I smile when I hear the squeaking wheel that announces Toby's walk down the hallway into Death Row. I remember to breathe again when I see him.
Pleading our case with Sister Pete to be allowed more time together fell on deaf ears. I know she hates me, but Toby...he acts strong, but I know better. I pretend not to notice the fear in his eyes, and I allow him to believe I'm the tough motherfucker everyone thinks I am.
None of it's true, of course. I don't want to be strong. I just want him to hold me.
He has this way of calming me when I don't even realize I need it. When we were together, he always knew when shit started to get to me. It was like he could sense it or somethin'. I'd feel this overwhelming urge to lash out at someone -- a hack, another inmate, who the fuck ever -- and he'd bring me back. A touch or a look would help me focus and I was his again, the Chris he knew, not the caged animal.
Now it feels as if I'm losing those human parts that made me worthy. Like a trapped panther, I want to stalk back and forth to release this energy, this anxiety that's suffocating me. Anger. Heat. Longing. I'm confined and without him I feel...feral.
He's staring, those eyes burning into me. I know he can almost taste the tension that has my soul wound like a tightly coiled spring. It's coming off me in waves. He knows every single inch of my body like his own, from hard scar to soft flesh, and it's almost impossible hiding from him. I try anyway.
"Talk to me," he says, his voice taking on a hush somewhere between lust and command.
When I don't answer right away, his hand flutters across my cheek, insistent.
"It's not enough," I say finally.
He rests his head gently on one of the bars that separate us, and a wisp of hair falls into his eyes. "At least I can see you."
When I reach out to brush the hair away my hand bangs against the metal, and frustration claims me.
"I can't fuckin' touch you!" I yell, allowing the anger to seep into my words as I back away from the bars. "I can't hold you, I can't be with you! It's making me insane..."
It's the sound of his voice that stops me. When he says my name like that I feel it in my gut. He knows how to get my attention by huffing the word from low in his throat, and I actually tingle.
"What're you talkin' about, Tobe?" I ask. The heat inside me is rising again. I want to hurl myself into the bars over and over and over until I'm numb and can't feel anything other than the hurt, because then at least I could actually feel.
"I need you to be strong."
I scoff, pretending his words didn't just make me flinch. "I am strong. Like a goddamned bear. You know that."
He holds his hand out to me, and I stop pacing. I can see it in the way he looks at me -- he knows I'm lying. He always knows, the little shit. I can't hide anything from those blue eyes.
"C'mere," he prods.
Fighting the desire to run to him, I walk back over and he puts his arms around me again. His forehead meets the bars, but he's able to get his lips close to my ear to whisper it.
"This is hard on me, too. I keep talking to Sister Pete, hoping to make her understand, but until something changes I need to know you're okay."
"Of course I'm okay. I just miss you, is all..."
"I know you're scared," he says quietly, interrupting the lie I was just trying to get him to believe. "I am too."
"You think you know me that well?"
He nods, and I know he does. I've never let anyone get this close, this deep, into me before. I always kept 'em at arm's length, never letting a secret be known or a truth be told. Toby, though...Toby's different. Toby makes me want to confess all my sins simply because of the way he looks at me. Fuck.
"I can tell when you're in pain. Don't lie."
My breath hitches, and the thoughts that have been haunting me since they first threw my ass on Death Row come bubbling to the surface. I didn't want to tell him, but I think of it every time we try to touch.
"I'm afraid...that this is all we'll have."
"What do you mean?" he asks, but I think he already knows the answer. He's trying to be strong for me, now.
"I don't think they'll ever let me touch you again. I'm gonna go the electric chair without being able to hold you one last time."
"Don't talk like that."
"You wanted the truth. There it is."
"They wouldn't do that, Chris."
"I wouldn't put anything past these motherfuckers, Tobe! They want me to suffer, and I can't think of any better way to do it. They know I got a weakness."
"That's not going to happen," he says angrily. "I won't let it."
It's my turn to soothe him. He's got Crazy Quest Toby in his eyes, that sparkle I recognize that's probably left over from his lawyer days. He wants to jump into the fray while holding my hand to protect me.
It makes me grin, and he frowns. "What?"
"I love you," I tell him, stroking his hair again. Christ, I can lose myself when I touch those curls.
He smiles back and takes a deep breath. I'm not sure if it's because he's trying to calm himself or because my fingers are lazily threading through his hair.
"I don't want you to worry. We're going to take this one day at a time, and I'll talk to Sister Pete again. Let's think about the holidays first. Maybe they can make an exception for New Year's."
"Because we missed Christmas?"
"I don't think they care about us being apart for the holidays, Tobe. It's not like we were gonna be decoratin' a tree or some shit in my cell."
I laugh when I say it, but he doesn't appreciate the lighthearted tone. I know the holidays were always big in his family, and every year he shows me the cards and letters he gets from his kids and parents. Sometimes I feel funny looking at the crayon drawings, but I know he does it to make me feel like a part of his family, to allow me to get even closer to him. I never told him what that meant to me.
"I missed you so much," he rasps, his thumb sliding over my bottom lip.
My stomach tightens and heat dips low into my abdomen. His touch makes me weak. I flick my tongue out and take him into my mouth, imitating the way I love to suck him off.
He responds immediately, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and letting out a little whimper of pleasure. I know the way I use my tongue makes him hard, whether it's in a kiss or fluttering up and down his cock.
I release his thumb, raking my teeth over it as it leaves my mouth, and I kiss him deeply.
"I missed you, too. But if you can come visit on New Year's Eve...that would mean everything to me."
His eyebrows raise, and I know he understands why right away. I may be a son of a bitch, but when it comes to anniversaries and dates that matter I'm a fuckin' prince.
"You wish we could celebrate the way we did the year we had the lockdown."
The way he says it -- low and teasing -- sends a jolt of need straight to my cock. I'd like nothing more than to get on my knees right now and pull his pants to his ankles and deep throat him. That's not gonna happen though, despite every part of me that's begging for it. I try to push that desire down and tell him what I'm thinking without listening to my dick.
"Tobe...if they just let me hug you I can get through this."
A muscle in his jaw twitches and he closes his eyes. He's trying not to cry.
"I'll ask her again," he promises with an unsteady voice, kissing my cheek.
He turns away from the bars, and it takes everything I have not to scream out his name and beg him not to leave me. With that, the squeaky-wheeled cart restarts its trip across Death Row, down the hallway, and back to Em City.
* * *
It's December 31st. I don't have a calendar in my cell -- the only way I know this is because that pussy Lopresti keeps talking about the tail he's bagging on New Year's Eve.
"She said no?"
"She said she's doing everything she can."
I push away from him and kick the bunk, hard. It doesn't do anything to help; the fuckin' thing is bolted down.
"Who else can we ask?" I wonder, looking into his eyes. "Just five minutes when the clock hits twelve, Tobe. That's all I want -- to be able to wrap my arms around you. Tell her that. Five minutes isn't too much to ask for, is it?"
"I don't know, Chris."
I'm trying to keep control. I wish there was somethin' I could break, or someone I could punch, or some way I could release everything that's building. They don't let me go to the gym anymore. We only get 15-minute showers three times a week. There's no TV, and even though Toby is here every day with the mail cart, there's never anything in it for me.
He's keeping me sane, and I know it. I think he knows it too, because I can already hear him talking quietly to me as I start pacing the cell again, clenching and unclenching my fists uselessly.
"Chris...Chris, listen to me. It's all right. Let's just focus on today, okay?"
"I thought we had a shot."
"I'm not that evil, am I Tobe? Do they hate me that much that they're keeping you from me?"
He looks down, his hair dropping into his face. "I don't know."
Walking back over to where he's standing, I reach through the bars and take his hand. "Talk to me. Tell me somethin' I can think about later tonight."
"I wanna touch myself and think of you, Toby. I'm going to spend New Year's Eve with you no matter what these heartless fucks do to us."
He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses it. My heartbeat quickens, and I have to exhale sharply so my chest doesn't explode from the pain.
"Only if you tell me something, too."
"You're much better at that stuff than I am, you know that. Me and words had a falling out even before I quit high school."
He thinks about that for a minute, not willing to give up on my idea. "Let's talk about fantasies, then."
The request surprises me, mostly because he sounds perfectly at ease with it. There's a little half-grin on his face when he looks at me, like he's been turning this over in his head for a while.
If he were to hear my fantasy, he'd laugh at how simple it was.
"All right," he says, catching that hesitant look in my eye, "I'll go first."
Toby is an educated man, but he never held that over me. He never treated me any different just because I was a mostly dumb fuck who got almost all of his learning from the streets. I loved listening to him read to me at night in our pod -- all these writers and shit I never even heard of -- because it made me feel closer to his life and the man he was. I admire his intelligence even if it makes him blind to the common sense of Oz, because when it comes to Toby, smart is sexy.
"I'd love to fuck you bent over Lopresti's desk over there."
The boldness of what he says makes me laugh out loud. "He'd probably wanna watch."
"I'd love to sneak into your cell in the middle of the night and suck your cock while you were still sleeping."
That one goes right from my ears into my groin, and I bite my lip. "Jesus."
"Like that one, huh?"
"You know I do."
"I'd love to put a blindfold on and let you strip my clothes off piece by piece."
I think I started panting when he said the word blindfold.
"Shit yeah, Tobe."
"And then what?"
"And then what what?"
"Tell me what you'd do to me after you took all my clothes off."
God, he's teasing me now, enjoying the way he can use those pretty words to fuckin' own me.
He reaches through the bars and trails his fingers gently over my neck, and I shiver.
"Tell me," he orders, his voice sultry.
Toby always knows what the sound of his voice does to me. He's known it since we were first together, and he uses it to get me so fuckin' hot I can't breathe sometimes. When his voice goes deep and soft like that, he has me by the balls.
"I'd kiss you."
"What else?" he asks.
"I'd kiss you hard, with lots of tongue, and press you against the wall."
"Would you hold my arms down?"
"Yeah, but I'd do it by wrapping my hands in yours so you couldn't use them."
Maybe I'm not too bad at this after all if what I'm seeing in his face is any indication. His eyes are fixed on mine, and he's rubbing the back of my neck as I talk, moving as close as he can possibly get to the bars. We're pressed together tightly, and even though there's metal between us I can still feel his heat.
"I'd be hard by this point, and I'd rub myself against you," he says.
"Maybe I'd let your hands go so I could touch you through the outside of your pants."
"I'm a tease," I say with a smile, and he grins back.
"Then maybe I'd slide my hand into the back of your pants and play with your ass."
I feel myself twitch when he says that, and I know he felt it too because he lowers his eyelashes and stares at me like a piece of meat.
He continues talking. "And I would slowly get down on my knees in front of you..."
"Christ, Tobe, stop," I beg, hissing through my teeth.
"I know," he tells me, like he can hear what I'm thinking. "If we keep talking I'm going to fuck you through these bars in front of everyone."
I inhale deeply, taking in a calming breath along with the scent of his hair. "You wouldn't hear me complain," I sigh, "but they'd throw your ass in the Hole."
"You're just going to have to dream of me tonight, then."
I nod, even though it's painful to admit. I want to be with him so damn bad -- to kiss him, to feel him, to touch him, to fuck him -- but fantasy is all we get.
"I dream of you every night, Toby."
"I dream of those five minutes they didn't give us," he answers, sounding angry, but I can tell he's more hurt than anything. When he's standing here in front of me like this, Sister Pete's promises mean little.
"We'll get to spend the first day of the New Year together," I remind him.
"Yeah, reaching through these fucking bars, Chris."
"But it's the New Year, and those motherfuckers haven't pulled the switch on me yet. I'm still alive, I have you, and I'll have your voice in my head tonight. I'll take what I can get."
His small smile says he agrees with me. The only time I smile is when we're together. I wonder if it's the same for him.
He backs away from the bars, reminding me again that these visits are too damn short.
"When it gets close to midnight, think of me, and I'll be thinking of you."
"How will I know what time it is?" I ask. "I don't have a watch."
Returning to me, he puts his hand on my cheek. "Remember how it felt the first time we spent New Year's Eve together?"
He doesn't even have to ask. "Of course I do, Tobe. I'll never forget that night."
"Remember that feeling, and you'll know exactly when I'm thinking of you."
He kisses me, his lips lingering, and then he turns to go. He doesn't look back.
* * *
I'm lying on my bunk in my boxers, wondering how close it is to midnight based on the sounds from the hacks' TV, when suddenly the lights come on.
Squinting, I don't even have time to ask what the fuck's goin' on before they're on me, batons at my throat and chest. I struggle as I start to lose my breath, but it only makes the three of them laugh. Then I catch a fist to the face.
The lights begin to dance in my vision before they loosen their hold on me, and I gag and cough when I sit up.
"Get the fuck up, Keller, you douchebag. You're bein' transferred."
"In the middle of the night?"
His answer to that is slamming me against the wall of the cell and wrenching my arms behind my back so he can cuff me. One of them presses against my neck to force my face into the cement while the shackles go on, and I taste blood.
"Did I say you could talk?" one of them barks as he binds my ankles too.
"But I was supposed to..."
I feel a sharp crack to the back of my head and my face scrapes the wall.
"Didja hear me?" the hack breathes in my ear. "Shut the fuck up. You're not supposed to do anything but die, cocksucker. Move."
I don't bother to ask where we're going. There's too much blood in my mouth anyway.
* * *
I shuffle-step in a daze of pain and confusion through the darkened hallways. I only pay attention when we round a corner and I recognize where we are. That's when I start fighting.
"Fuckin' sons of bitches! You can't throw me in here! I haven't done a fuckin' thing!
I'm pulling and pushing against them until they physically lift me up and force me to the floor face-first. I yelp, crying out in pain from the earlier assault and the way my shoulders are held behind me. I'm going crazy, struggling against their hands that are all over me. I hate the way they touch me, like they think they have a right. No one touches me like that except Toby.
I scream out now, raging against what's happening. They pull my boxer shorts down, and then one of the bigger fuckers sits on my back so they can take the ankle shackles off. Then another one straddles my legs and the handcuffs come off.
"Get the fuck off me!" I scream, knowing it won't do any good. There are five of them now, one to hold my head, and four that pick up my legs and arms and carry me. The blood from my face is dripping over my lips and chin.
The anger and hatred starts to change into helplessness, and I feel the hot tears begin streaking my cheeks.
They're throwing me into the Hole.
I won't be able to see Toby.
I can't touch him.
I can't hold him.
I'm gonna die without him.
But my biggest fear is that I missed midnight.
Finally, I go limp.
I watch a mixture of my tears and blood leave a spotted trail down the hallway.
* * *
When we get to the metal door they don't even put me down; the guy holding my head lifts keys from his waist and I hear the scratching, cold sound of the key in the lock. Blood is pooling under me as it drip, drip, drips from my chin. Good. I hope one of these fucks has to clean it up.
The door to my darkened cage opens and the four men holding me very nearly toss me in. I'm quick enough to turn to the side as they drop me through the opening so I don't smash my nuts against the cold floor. The steel slams shut behind me before I have a chance to yell out a curse.
It's so fuckin' dark in here. That's the worst part -- the solitary and the pissin' in a bucket I can deal with. The black is what gets to me.
I curl up against the edge of the wall, grateful to have something solid at my back. The floor is cold, so I slide down and press against it to ease the throbbing in my cheek and lip.
Weakness is somethin' you should never allow anyone to see, especially in prison -- and definitely in Oz. They can smell shit like that a mile away. Problem is, everyone is weak in some way, even if most of us don't show it. Bein' alone and in the dark like this, where nobody can see me in pain, or hurting, or crying for that matter, is the only time I allow myself to express anything. When Toby's around it's different, but when I'm alone...
My chest constricts and although I'm trying like hell to fight it, the tears come even stronger now. I take a shuddery breath and I can hear the goddamned pussy whimper that leaves my throat, but I can't help it. Maybe I don't want to.
Somewhere between gulping for breath and pushing the snot and blood away from my nose I hear the voice.
It scares the living shit outta me, I admit it. I jump to a crouch and get ready, my mind trying to guess who's gonna shank me, or strangle me, or beat me down. I heard about some guy that got his ass burned up while he was in the Hole. This is Oz. Shit happens.
"Don't be scared."
Oh my God.
A small flashlight comes on and I see him. I'm not dreaming. They didn't beat me so hard that I'm hallucinating. It's him, standing there, real.
The next few seconds I will remember for the rest of my life.
In two steps his arms are around me, because I swear to Christ my knees buckled.
And then I think I'm talking or babbling or losing it because suddenly he's hushing me and we're down on the floor and I can't breathe because I'm crying so damn hard. I feel my stomach twist and my chest tighten and I don't care, I don't fuckin' care that I am completely losing my shit because he's here, goddammit. He's here and these are his arms and his voice and his body that are keeping me whole. I think I start to feel again.
Minutes go by like this, his hand rubbing small circles on my back, my face pressed against his chest. I'm afraid to breathe. I'm afraid to move. I'm afraid that the moment we separate it's going to be forever.
At that moment a thought rings clear through the haze: I'd rather die than be without him.
I feel him reach over for the flashlight and he brings it up to my face.
"My God, what did they do to you?"
I feel the pain in his words like someone kicking me in the chest.
"I got blood on your shirt," is what I mumble back.
"Come over to the bed."
He lifts me up and he points the flashlight to a small cot placed in the corner. The room is so damn small that you could have reached out and touched it, but in the darkness I didn't even know it was there. I didn't know he was there.
I sit down on the bed and laugh when I look over. There's a small cardboard box that has been turned over and is being used as a table of sorts. On top there's bottled water, some food, and a chocolate bar of all things. I know I must look confused because he smiles back.
"Courtesy of Sister Pete. She came to me a little while ago and said she'd 'worked on' McManus. She also thought the only place we'd be able to spend time together and be safe is in the Hole." He reaches over and lifts my chin. "Although at this point 'safe' is questionable. They beat you, didn't they?"
"Only the parts they could reach," I answer. "It was worth it if you get to be my nurse."
I smirk at him to let him know I can deal with the pain as long as he's here. He responds by touching my cheek.
"Let's clean you up a little."
With that he tips the bottled water onto some napkins and gently starts wiping the blood and tears from my face. Nothing's broken, but my split lip is gonna hurt when I kiss him. I don't think about it; I know he'll be gentle.
"I can't believe she actually made this happen, Tobe. What'd ya do, pay her off?"
He brushes the napkin over my chin. "Of course not."
I eye him and grin. "You wanted to."
"Maybe," he smiles.
"I'll ask to see her when they put me back on Death Row. Say thanks."
He tenses, and I feel it right away. "We're going to get you out of there, Chris."
"Of course you will, Tobe."
Toby frowns and looks down. I see him get ready to go into one of his lawyer-type speeches.
"No thinkin' about that tonight, okay? Did I miss midnight?"
I nuzzle him and he takes my hand. "The New Year. Did I miss it?"
"I don't think so -- I've been here since 11 and I didn't wait very long. We still have time."
I stare at him now, because I want to remember every single detail of this night, from the look on his face to the way he's holding me. His eyes are dark blue in the dim light, like what the color the deepest part of the ocean must be. I would drown just to see it.
He rubs a finger over my lip, avoiding the angry slash. "Talk to me."
"You're...so...goddamned beautiful, have I ever told you that, you sexy motherfucker?"
He makes that sound in his throat somewhere between a chuckle and a purr, and I feel heat sink into my groin. I reach for his curls, sliding my fingers through the soft hair.
"I love you," he whispers.
"I love you, too," I say back.
"This is better than any fantasy, isn't it?"
"Hell yeah," I answer, rubbing my hand up and down his arm. He shivers, and I pull him closer, letting the heat of my body warm us both. "I feel like I'm dreamin'."
He moves and gently pushes me up on the bed so that I'm sitting with my back against the wall. Straddling me, he balances on my thighs and looks down into my eyes. He's dressed and I'm completely naked, which makes my hard-on a little more obvious than the bulge I see in his pants.
My skin is hot when he touches my face, like he's memorizing it. He reaches down for a kiss and I groan into his mouth, completely wrapped in the feeling. God, it feels like the first time.
"You're not dreaming."
His eyes are locked on mine, and I slide my hand down to rub the front of his pants. He exhales loudly and throws his head back, and I get ever harder. I lift his shirt over his head, kissing his chest and flicking his nipple with my tongue as I do it. His hands drift to the back of my neck and he presses his fingers into the muscle, massaging me while I suck on his collarbone, and if I don't control myself I'm gonna blow before I even get started.
I start rocking my hips -- I can't help it -- and he grins.
"Are you teasin' me, Tobe, you little shit?"
He chuckles and unbuttons his pants. Then he grabs my hand and pulls it through the opening so I can feel his hard cock underneath.
I gasp, and he stands up on the bed to pull his pants off.
"Take 'em off slowly. I wanna watch."
With hands on either side of his hips, he wiggles his ass slightly and then cups his balls, touching his thighs and the crease of his groin the way he knows I like. The pants drop and he steps out of them, kicking them to the floor.
He sits on my thighs again and touches the underside of my cock, hard and straining now against my stomach. I spread my legs at the sensation and he lowers himself to all fours, and before I can see what he's doing his tongue is lapping at me.
I moan and grab onto the edge of the cot as he works me with his tongue, first around the edge of my ass and then pushing inside. My cock throbs and jumps every time his tongue makes deep circles.
"Ohhhh, fuck, Toby. Yeah, baby, just like that..."
My fingernails find his back and I lightly trail them over and around his side and shoulders. I clench my jaw and resist the urge to touch myself. I want this to last.
I feel his teeth graze the bottom of my balls and he rises to look at me. His eyes are dark and swirling, like that ocean is being rocked by a storm. I swallow, caught in that stare. He's everything I've ever wanted in this moment, and if they fry me tomorrow I would have no regrets. Take my fuckin' life, because I love this man right here and now.
Then he licks his lips.
His head disappears and then his mouth is around my cock, sucking lightly and allowing his front teeth to scrape the tip. I actually bang my head against the wall when he does it.
Toby has a talented mouth. He's good at talkin' pretty, but when he uses it for what he's really good at...
He sucks at me harder and deeper, burying his nose into my stomach and then pulling back slowly. His hand finds mine and we thread fingers. It feels so desperate, so needy, that I almost want to cry.
My chest tightens and I have to reach down and tug at his shoulder.
He stops and looks at me strangely.
"Kiss me," I beg.
I lower my knees and he drapes himself over me, flesh to flesh, and kisses me, hard. Our tongues clash and fight, and I drink him in like I'm dying of thirst. He moans deeply, his cock pressing against my stomach and my cock rising to meet his. Mouths locked together, dicks touching, it feels like we've never been apart.
He lifts his head and hugs me, and I feel something inside break.
"Shh, it's okay."
"They're gonna put me back on Death Row."
"Don't think about it, Chris."
"I have to. This might be the last time we're together."
"I need to remember this night when I'm alone again. I want you with me. I'm empty without you."
"Fuck me, Toby. Please . Fuck me so I can't forget."
His eyes go from worried, to anguished, to determined in a moment. He understands, and I don't have to voice my reasons why. He knows me that well. He softens, and his lips find mine again.
I match the kiss and put my hands under his armpits to lift him up.
"Stand over me and let me taste you."
He gets to his knees and stands, his feet on either side of my chest. He balances his hands against the wall behind my head and I don't wait before burying his shaft deep inside my mouth. I hear him sigh above me, and I suck him like this could be our last time. I try not to let the thought creep into my mind, but it's impossible to ignore. I deep throat him and Toby begins thrusting his hips. I suck at him greedily until he pulls from my mouth with a whimper and drops to his knees on the cot.
He straddles me again, and then kisses me roughly before he pulls me down onto the cot on my back.
I look up at him -- this man who I once destroyed -- and I surrender completely to his touch.
He leans over me and I automatically spread my legs, waiting, restless. He reaches down with one hand to steady himself, and at the moment he enters, he kisses me at the same time.
The surge of heat is almost overwhelming and I don't hold back the pleasurable whimper. He moans back into my mouth and slides out slowly, making me feel every single second of it. I lift my hips up and forward to meet him, and he pushes back. I love watching him like this. He's wild, yet in control, and it makes me fuckin' hot.
He begins thrusting faster now, and I close my eyes. I take all of him -- feeling him, comforting him, loving him.
"Look at me," I hear him say. "Look at me, Chris."
I open my eyes and see the ocean again.
"I'm going to make you remember," he says, his voice a near-growl. "I want you so damn bad."
I grab my cock, and as I pump he matches my rhythm. He leans down to kiss me and I grab his hair, pushing my tongue inside his mouth. I'm losing control, I can feel it. Hell, I welcome it. If this is the last time he touches me, I want to see stars.
All I hear is slapping flesh and the cot smacking the wall as he speeds up the pace. My eyes have not left his, and I spread my legs wider. It's hard, and fast, and intense, and I want to stay wrapped with him forever.
Suddenly I feel him tense, I feel my stomach and abdomen tighten, and I know we're both ready. He's about to pull out but I shake my head.
"I need you."
He gasps my name, shudders within me, and my scream mixes with his as we both climax at the same time. He collapses on top of me, shaking from the effort, and I wrap my arms around him.
Kissing the top of his head, I hold him so close I can feel his heart beat against my chest. It's slowing now, becoming steadier. I wonder if that's what happens when they juice you. It's like the biggest fucking orgasm you've ever had when the electricity surges through your body, and then eventually your heart slows, like it's taking a breath, and then nothing. I hope that's what it's like. I might pray that's what it's like.
I start slowly stroking those curls and he looks up at me.
"I never told you my real fantasy," he admits.
I give him a questioning look.
"We get you off of Death Row, and back into Em City with me."
"I already told you mine."
He glances up, confused, and kisses my cheek.
"I wanted to hold you for New Year's Eve."
"I know," I interrupt. "Fantasies can come true."
He rests his head against my chest again. "Chris?"
"What do you think this new year will bring for us?"
I press my lips to his forehead, taking comfort in the feel of Toby's body next to me, and I smile.
"The strength to keep going."
-- End --
Originally posted December 31, 2006
Please send feedback to RhymePhile.