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AU. No Oz, ever. Toby drinks but doesn't drink and drive. Possible serial!Keller but only obliquely mentioned. well, you can draw your own conclusions as to why he's in the middle of the woods with a truck and a shovel. Crossover with Law & Order: SVU.
Thank you: to my very generous beta, who called me a dirty girl (which, of course, only inspired me) and tackled this the very weekend that her skills were in high demand. Also, she did very good things with the grammar and structure and story. (She wishes to remain anonymous. Otherwise I'd have a banner up dedicated to her.)
All remaining mistakes are my own.
Thank you: to colleendetroit, because she is so wildly talented and she made art for this story that is beautiful and hot.
Into the Woods
The car jerked forward a couple more times, shuddered violently, and finally stopped as Toby guided it onto the shoulder of the road. A hissing sound emanated from underneath the car's hood, mingling with the loud chirping of the birds outside. What had begun as a much-needed Sunday drive through the country had turned into a frustrating mess. Great, Toby thought sourly. More stress.
Of course he'd chosen the secluded back roads to get lost on, never anticipating car troubles or a hike. Toby glared down at his freshly pressed trousers and - groan - tasseled loafers. As soon as he shut off the ignition, the air-conditioning ceased its flow of cool air, and Toby regretted the rest of his clothing choices even more - long-sleeved button-down shirts were the staple, if not the standard, of his wardrobe. Even though today was supposed to be one of relaxation, he still looked like he was dressed for work.
And he'd never had an aptitude for car repairs; he couldn't even change a spark plug, let alone deal with what he suspected was an overheated radiator. Toby checked his cell phone. Naturally there was no service: he was on a secluded road, hidden in a deep valley between mountains, he hadn't seen another car for at least twenty minutes, and he couldn't even remember the name of the last town he'd sped through.
Even better, Toby groused. He put his phone and keys in his pocket and resigned himself to the necessary walk. When he opened the car door and stepped out, he realized the true nature of such a beautiful, sunny summer day. It was hot. Even standing in the shade provided by the taller trees that lined the road - it was really hot.
Okay: he'd been a Boy Scout once, he could do this. Toby stripped off his button-down shirt and fashioned it into a turban-hat of sorts. The pale skin of his arms would probably turn pink before too long, but his undershirt gave him some protection and he'd keep to the shady side of the road. He would rather have pink arms than a lobster-red face, and peeling? Toby shuddered. No thank you.
At least my feet don't hurt yet, Toby thought as he walked along the dirt road, picking his way around the larger stones. He'd found a pair of running shoes in the trunk where they'd fallen out of his gym bag. He was in good shape, but he did the majority of his running on grass, not roads that promised a sprained ankle if he stepped wrong. He just needed to get to the crest of one of these hills, and hopefully his cell phone would work again.
Toby hesitated as he came to a fork in the road; he couldn't remember which way he'd come, exactly, and he wasn't sure how to make a temporary mark that would remind him in case he circled around unknowingly. In my defense, he thought self-pityingly, I've had a lot on my mind. His marriage proposal to Genevieve had been met with large, startled eyes and an embarrassing silence. They'd been dating for a few months and he was fairly sure that she'd be a good mother, so - he bought a ring and took her to the restaurant where they'd met. He'd done the whole on-one-knee thing, and was certain she'd say yes.
Except that she hadn't: she'd continued staring at him for interminable seconds and then frowned slightly, motioning for him to sit in his chair again. She went on to talk for a few minutes in a low tone, explaining how she never thought they were that serious and she wasn't looking to marry right away. She didn't even feel that he knew her well enough and besides - wasn't he using her for his own reasons, a little? He was shocked into silence until she made to leave, then he struggled up and insisted on taking her home. Blindly, he threw bills on the table and escorted her to the limousine, waiting until the doors were closed and the privacy partition raised before turning to her.
"Toby..." She sighed. "I don't mean that you don't... I mean, I think you're fond of me and all, but... we've only gone out a dozen times, and honestly, I never thought I was the only one that you were seeing... just the only one you were seeing publicly."
Okay, granted, he worked a lot, so she was right, in her own way - they didn't see much of one another, but he hadn't wanted to pressure her, and, wait, what?
He gasped sharply, eyes narrowing as he choked out his next words: "Who else do you think I've been... seeing?"
She blushed then, and stammered out, "Toby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Obviously I've read this whole thing wrong. I - Just the way we met and all..." she trailed off uncertainly.
He had a meeting with a client; she was the hostess at the restaurant where they'd met. Toby had known Ferguson all his life; they were fraternity brothers at Harvard. They'd never held back their mutual affection that included mammoth bear hugs, cheek-kissing and unabashed teasing. Suddenly, Genevieve's... accusation... completed the shaky picture his mind had been busily forming. "Oh my god, you think I'm gay," he blurted out before he could filter his thoughts.
"Toby! We've kissed maybe three times. You've never asked to come in, and when we make plans it's always somewhere public, and never just the two of us."
"Maybe I'm an old-fashioned gentleman," he said with a sardonic smile.
She sighed again, clearly wanting to be done with this awkward conversation. "Toby... I'm not going to marry you."
The rest of the ride back to her apartment was filled only with a stony silence. When the limo finally slowed to a stop, Genevieve reached out and brushed her fingertips over Toby's cheek, then exited gracefully. It was only after the door had closed again that Toby realized he was still holding onto the engagement ring, and his shoulders started to shake.
So when the driver inquired about their next stop, Toby impulsively decided against going home to mope. Instead, he directed the driver to a bar in an upscale hotel near the courthouse where he pounded dirty martinis and tried not to think about the ring in his pocket.
And when a man sat down on the barstool next to him, their knees touching, he hadn't moved away.
Toby hesitated as he came to a fork in the road; he couldn't remember which way he'd come, exactly, and he wasn't sure how to make a temporary mark that would remind him in case he circled around unknowingly. Finally, he settled on ripping a bit of cloth from his shirt-hat and tying it to a branch, then determinedly started walking again.
Approximately forty minutes later, according to his watch, Toby was tired, his clothing soaked with sweat, his mouth dry and parched, and he still had not crested a hill. He was beginning to envision having to learn how to survive in the wilderness, trapping rabbits with string and making clothes out of regional florae. Wait, there was a bit of white, up ahead. Terrific, he thought. I've gone in a circle. Or I'm hallucinating. It didn't seem that he had circled round because the bit of white had started to move, but before Toby could call out, it disappeared from view. Shit. It was probably just a bird.
Toby closed his eyes against the glare of the sun and kept walking: one foot, then the other foot, plodding along. This road had to lead to somewhere, eventually, and the first thing he wanted was two gallons of ice-cold water, and then he'd sue the cell phone people, he'd eat a pint of butter pecan, he'd sue the car manufacturers, and then - Toby stumbled as he ran into something.
His eyes popped open. Okay, make that someone. He backed up a few steps; the effect of having had his eyes closed made the world swim slowly back into view, blues and greens tingeing the edges of the picture before him. A man: a dark-haired man, in a white wife-beater and jeans and boots, holding a shovel and a water bottle and smirking. At him. Toby coughed, trying to clear his throat so he could speak, or beg for a drink of water and directions, and also more water, please.
Before he could get any words out, the man stepped closer to him and drawled, "Nice hat."
Toby blushed, his already flushed skin becoming hotter, his hands automatically reaching up and unwinding the shirt from his head. "I didn't want to peel," he stammered out, feeling ridiculous as soon as the words had left his mouth.
"Right," the other man replied, "Because skin cancer is dangerous."
Toby took another look. The man seemed familiar, but he couldn't place him and he was pretty sure he was being mocked, but he didn't want to drive - haha - the other man away before he could figure out where he was - and oh, yes, the water. His eyes fell to the bottle in the man's hand, drops of condensation sliding down the sides. Toby licked his lips unconsciously. The other man made an odd noise in his throat and lifted his arm so that he was holding the bottle out between them. "Want some?" he asked huskily.
"Yes, please." Toby grabbed for the bottle and nearly ripped off the cap in his haste to have a mouthful of the liquid. He gulped down three large swallows before stopping, moaning quietly in disappointment when he realized he'd finished all there was in the container.
Still, the water had soothed his aching throat, and he smiled sheepishly as he handed the empty bottle back to the dark-haired man. "Sorry. I was thirsty."
"I noticed," the man replied. "I'm Chris."
"Toby," he responded reflexively, feeling better already. His vision had cleared and he studied the other man's features, wondering why he felt like he already knew this other person.
"What?" Chris's voice jolted him from his appraisal.
"No... just thought you looked familiar, s'all," Toby said, not even completely sure where that phrase had come from, but the other man said nothing and Toby tried to cover his gaffe. "Of course, I'm thrilled to see anyone out here, because I... don't know where I am, and-" he cut himself off, as some instinctual self-preservation mode kicked in.
Straightening his shoulders, he tried again. "My car broke down. I need to get someplace that I can use my phone. Do you know where the nearest town is, and can you take me there?"
Chris smiled, his eyes lighting up with humor and - something else - and said, "Yeah, okay Toby. I can take you there."
Toby fought down the urge to blush again; the inflection in Chris's tone suddenly made him think of hot kisses and skinny-dipping. Of course, that could just be the heatstroke.
Chris stepped even closer, and Toby noticed how blue his eyes were. They stared at one another for a very long moment; Toby broke the gaze and his eyes flicked down to the curve of Chris's mouth before he quickly stepped back, eyes firmly on Chris's boots, feeling even more light-headed than before he'd bolted the water.
"Well, you're not going to get anywhere going that way," Chris said, and Toby looked up at him again. The tension was broken and he managed a smile.
"Okay, where to, then?"
Chris motioned to follow him into the underbrush on the side of the road. "I know a shortcut."
Toby took a deep breath and fumbled with the shirt in his hands, ripping off another piece of cloth, stepping forward to tie it onto another branch. Chris quirked an eyebrow at him. "Don't tell me - Boy Scout?"
Toby managed a wide smile this time along with a chuckle. "Well, I thought it would come in handy for the tow-truck people."
Chris just nodded, then disappeared into the foliage by the roadside. Hesitantly, Toby went after him.
Fifteen minutes later, Toby tried to take stock of his situation. He was trudging after a stranger on what could have been a path, (but probably wasn't), tree roots and pine needles covering the forest floor. He still had no idea where he was, and he kept getting distracted - first by the glint of the sun on the shovel Chris carried, and alternately by the long black tattoo that ran up most of Chris's upper arm. He was thirsty again, and though the trees provided a much-needed buffer between the sun and his body, he was still hot and sticky with sweat. Just as he was about to question the sanity of this trek, Chris swung around, flashed a brilliant smile at him and said, "Just a few more minutes, Tobe. Think you can make it, or will I need to carry you?"
Toby's breath caught as he imagined being cradled in Chris's muscular arms, and without warning he tripped on a root and face-planted in the dirt. The wind was knocked out of him; he coughed and gasped uselessly. Toby tried to concentrate on the simple act of breathing and was only dimly aware of Chris's footsteps as he returned to Toby's side. Chris crouched down and smoothed his hand over Toby's hair.
"It's okay, just relax, breathe, you're fine, you'll be okay," he murmured and for some reason Toby felt himself focusing on the repetitive rub of Chris's hand across his shoulders and hair. His lungs started to work again and then he heard Chris step back and say, "Not that I'd mind carrying you, but it really is only a little further."
Toby pulled himself up so he was sitting on the ground, already crazily missing the feel of the other man's hand on him. Okay, something to think about later, he mused. "Where - where are we going, anyway?" he rasped out.
Chris smiled down at him. "My truck. You need a ride, right?"
A truck! There's that tone again. Toby shivered a little despite the heat. He opened his mouth and chose his next words carefully. "Yes, Chris, I do need a-" his body betrayed him as he nearly coughed out the next word "-ride. Yes."
Chris looked at him again as if Toby was a little crazy, but then his whole demeanor shifted, his feet planted solidly and his whole body taking on a sort of look - well, he looked like he was about to go hunting for the person who kicked his dog, or get into a bar fight. His voice had lowered about three octaves when he rumbled out, "Toby, you really are lost, aren't you?" The gleam in his eyes told Toby that he was teasing... still, there was another emotion there that Toby couldn't quite read.
After helping Toby to his feet, and making sure that he would stay upright, Chris started walking again. He talked to Toby the whole time, promising him cold water and a place to sit down, asking after his last name, his job and his family. Toby concentrated on his answers; his last name was easy enough, then lawyer, then - none, really. His younger brother was still in college, his parents on a tour of Europe, and Genevieve - well, she was... also absent from his life, now. Toby found himself spilling the embarrassing tale of the night of the botched proposal and his drunken encounter with one of New York's finest - and was so busy shaking his head at his actions that he bumped into Chris's back.
"Are we there?"
"Almost, Tobe. So, you dig chicks in uniform, huh?"
Which led to the revelation that it was a man in uniform, except he'd been undercover, or maybe FBI - after all, they certainly hadn't gone up to Toby's hotel room to discuss the finer points of each other's chosen professions. Also, Toby was really, really drunk... to which Chris said, "So Toby, you're gay?" but it was totally different than how Genevieve had made it sound, and Toby found himself saying, "Maybe. Sometimes," and Chris seemed to be all right with that.
Except now there was a bit of tension between them, so Toby asked politely, "And what do you do, Chris?"
"Hmmm... whatever I want, Toby." Was the answer, and Toby blushed again, and then Chris said, "We're here."
Toby looked into a clearing in the forest and saw a late-model, silver pickup truck parked there, some tarps and a bale of hay in the bed.
Chris swung the shovel up into the back of the truck, then opened the tailgate to reveal a cooler. He fished out another bottle of water and handed it to Toby, then walked to the driver's side door and opened it. Toby trailed after him, thinking of air-conditioning. His eyes were trained on Chris's ass and he quickly looked away, fumbling to open the bottle in his hands. Chris turned around just as Toby managed to get the water opened; Toby's eyes slid shut again as he gulped down the much-needed liquid.
Toby felt Chris's eyes upon him as he guzzled the entire bottle of water, some of it leaking out around his mouth and dribbling down his neck onto his undershirt. Toby heard a rumble near his right ear; he opened his eyes and found Chris standing so close that he could have set his chin on Toby's shoulder. One of Chris's hands rested on the doorframe where the window had been rolled down and the other hovered by Toby's hip.
"So Toby, what're you going to give me?" Chris breathed out.
Anything and everything, came the unbidden thought but what came out of his mouth was a squeaky, "What?"
"Well, I'm helpin' you out here, right? So don't you think it's fair that you should give me... something?"
"Like... money? I can give you that, or-" Toby glanced down at his wrist. "Need a watch? You can have this one..." His voice trailed off as he looked back up at Chris, whose look plainly said `Next you wanna sell me a bridge?' "Um, okay, no watch then..."
Chris leaned forward a fraction of an inch and huskily whispered into Toby's ear, "I don't need a watch. But I'd like to watch."
The tension between them had a name, Toby realized, and it was `sexual'. Oh. OH.
Toby nodded his head slowly. Basically all he could remember from his drunken night with the cop was a blurred montage of actions, colors and feelings, but he did know how he'd felt when he finally returned home the next morning - amazing. Relaxed, refreshed, and - well, good. As good as he had felt in a long time. And Chris? Chris was hot: his eyes, his smile, the rough timbre of his voice, the way his body moved underneath his clothing, the impressive arm muscles and ink that Toby's fingers itched to touch.
Tentatively, he reached out and did just that - ran his fingertips lightly over the body art that caught his eye the very first time he'd seen Chris. Just that small movement, again and again, until Chris took a couple of steps back, their gazes locked and then Chris nearly picked Toby up, shoved him against the open door of the truck and kissed him.
There was kissing in Toby's montage - but it was immediately eclipsed by the soft lips that rested lightly against his, a completely different kiss than the one he'd been expecting. He thought it would be as raw and aggressive as the display of power Chris had just shown, but instead the kiss felt shy, as if even Chris wasn't totally sure what to do. Their bodies were pushed up against one another, and Toby felt his chest heaving as though he was terrified, but when Chris did no more than rest his lips on Toby's, his breathing slowed and he found he wanted to know more: what Chris tasted like, how the roof of his mouth would feel under Toby's tongue, and if he'd make that rumbling noise again.
Toby let his mouth open slightly and Chris made a pleased sound, darting his tongue inside of Toby's mouth, a quick invasion that caused Toby's nipples to tighten and made his heart trip-hammer in his chest. Toby opened his mouth even more and Chris took full advantage, running his hands up from Toby's thighs to cup the sides of his face, angling Toby's head, lining up their mouths, pushing his tongue into Toby's mouth more forcefully, licking at his teeth, lightly touching their tongues, pushing their lips together until Toby's mind was spinning, the tension revved up even more and their attraction sparking between them.
Finally, Chris broke the kiss; both men panting, Chris's eyes half-closed and dark, Toby shivering a little. Everywhere Chris touched him, Toby felt a different sort of heat, and he yearned for more.
Their gazes were locked on one another and then Chris dipped his head slightly and murmured into Toby's ear, "I think I'd like my payment now."
Toby was immediately, dizzyingly hard at hearing Chris's voice articulate that sentence; the words coasted across the flushed skin of Toby's neck and without another coherent thought, he dropped to his knees in the dirt in front of Chris. He only knew that he wanted to taste this man, sniff and lick and nibble at his skin, feast on his cock, feel all that strength pressed up hard against him with knowing hands touching his skin.
Chris lounged back against the seat of the truck and lazily flicked open the top button of his jeans. Toby watched Chris's fingers resting lightly on the second button, then pushed them away as he leaned forward to do it himself. The buttons slipped easily from their holes, the jeans obviously well-worn, the denim smooth and soft under Toby's fingers. Toby pushed open the fly off to the sides far enough to see the hard length of Chris's cock outlined by gray cotton and he leaned forward, touching the tip of his tongue to the material, hearing Chris moan from somewhere above him.
Toby licked at the fabric again and again, wetting it with his saliva and mouthing at the hard cock underneath. He felt Chris touch his hair, push it back out of his face and he became bolder, licking his way up to just above the elastic band of Chris's underwear, nosing the shirt out of the way and nibbling on the skin he found there. Chris shifted, adjusting his stance and when Toby's nimble fingers touched his hips, he helped to tug and push both jeans and briefs down to mid-thigh. Chris's fingers drifted across Toby's upper back and shoulders, plucking at the cotton shirt, combed through his hair and then returned to their earlier positions so he could brace himself on the truck.
Toby rocked back on his heels then, stared up at Chris who was stripping off his wifebeater, enraptured by each inch of tanned skin that appeared, wanting to touch and kiss all of it. Chris tossed the shirt behind him and looked down at Toby, a faint smile on his lips and Toby smiled back, keeping eye contact as he leaned forward once more, swiping the flat of his tongue across the bottom of Chris's balls.
A sharp intake of breath told Toby what Chris thought about that, so he went back and did it again, licking at Chris's balls, mouthing them, sucking first one, then the other into his mouth and rolling them around on his tongue. Using one hand to steady himself by pushing on Chris's thigh, Toby tried to fit both balls into his mouth. He had to use his other hand to help, and as Chris trembled, his cock jerked, dribbling out precum.
Chris pushed his cock down a few times, bumping Toby's face, and Toby looked up again as Chris stared at him with desire showing on his face. Chris grabbed at Toby's arms and pulled him up, a long slow slide flush against his body, his hands already busy trying to yank the undershirt off, succeeding in getting it up around Toby's neck as they kissed again. Now, this was the kiss Toby'd been expecting earlier, hungry and undisciplined, teeth clashing and hands everywhere: Chris's fingers rubbing circles around Toby's nipples, Toby's hand cupping the back of Chris's neck and the other flattened out and kneading against Chris's pectoral muscles.
Chris pivoted and pushed Toby up against the truck's door again. A loud groan burst from Toby only to be swallowed by Chris's waiting mouth. Toby reached for Chris's cock, holding it as they kissed, rubbing the tip of it up against his, which was still confined in his trousers, straining to be released. He could barely believe how extraordinary this all felt, the rub of their cocks, even through his pants, the nudge of his tongue in Chris's mouth, the way Chris flicked a fingertip over his nipple, wringing a groan from Toby every time Chris lightly pinched it.
The door handle pushed into his lower back, so Toby twisted around, throwing his weight against Chris, encouraging him to step back. But Chris didn't even seem to notice, he just breathed out, "Yea, Toby," and reached down to stroke Toby's cock a few times, his fingernails scratching at the material of the trousers.
"Ow," Toby finally said.
"Ow? This hurt, Tobe?" Chris smirked.
"No, it's just my shirt, it's wrapped-"
Chris helped him take off the offending garment. "Better now?"
"Um, could you, you know, move? I tried to get you to move a minute ago but you didn't, and this thing is poking me in the back and..."
"Yea, thought maybe you were backing down, Toby. Can't have that." Chris's tone was light, but there was a vague, underlying menace to his words that prompted Toby to babble.
"Nooo, no- not... um, backing down, just the arm rest or something, it hurts, the metal and the... and you wouldn't move and I just wanted to... I mean-- you're so strong--"
Chris shut him up with a kiss, but moved backwards as they kissed and used the pads of his fingers to rub over Toby's back, down to where the indentation of a handle marred the skin. Toby kept his eyes open as they moved, and when Chris opened his too, Toby thought he saw a flicker of relief flash in Chris's eyes before hiding behind the lust that, Toby realized, had been there since the stranger complimented his hat.
Toby desperately wanted to take off his own pants, his cock was hard and the friction against the sweat-soaked fabric was nearly unbearable. But when he made a move to unzip himself, Chris stopped his action. "Suck my dick first, Toby. I wanna see you suck it."
Toby sank to his knees again, pushed Chris's jeans and briefs down to his ankles and helped him step out of them. He gazed up at Chris's naked body, the tanned skin and muscular chest, his nipples small brown peaks, the ridge of his hips. Holy shit, this man's body's gorgeous. Toby dipped his head down to nip at the smooth skin and suck at the very tip of Chris's hard cock, his tongue traveling over the crown again and again until Chris canted his hips forward suddenly and said, "Suck it, Toby. Suck me off."
Toby takes a deep breath and moves forward, feeling the head of Chris's cock slide past his lips and into his mouth. It sits heavy in his mouth, thick and ready. Toby uses his tongue to lick as far down the shaft as possible, then follows the most prominent vein back up. He tucks the tip of Chris's dick into his cheek and closes his lips around the rest, creating suction and smiling a little when Chris's hips stutter forward again. Chris moans, making no move to force him to go any faster, and seems content with letting Toby find his own pace. Toby tries hollowing out his cheeks, providing a greater pulling suction, but has to back away suddenly as Chris's cock finds its way deeper into his mouth and he coughs slightly.
He's more hesitant then, feeling like he's on display as the sometimes-gay man who can't even suck dick. He knows his emotions are showing plainly on his face and tries to keep his head bowed so that Chris can't see. He can feel his dick softening, and he pushes the top of his head up against Chris's lower stomach. This time, he leans over and uses his tongue to make quick, little licks on the top of Chris's shaft, taking another deep breath and mentally shoring himself up for another go. He jumps a little when Chris's hand touches the top of his head, sliding down the side of his face and tickling under his chin. Toby knows that Chris wants him to look up, but he just can't, that would be too tender, and this is just a blowjob, anyway. He pulls away and sucks Chris's cock back into his mouth, letting it rest on the back of his tongue this time, pursing his lips around it and sliding back and forth.
Chris's fingers find their way back into his hair, tugging gently on the ends and lightly touching Toby's scalp. It seems easier this time, and Toby falls into a rhythm that he's comfortable with. He tests all the things he's ever been curious about: continuous pressure just on the underside of the head makes Chris's body go taut, a light scraping of his teeth causes Chris's fingers to tighten in his hair, a bobbing, sucking motion leaves no doubt in Toby's mind that the other man is enjoying this as Chris begins to talk dirty to him.
"Aw, shit yea, that's good. Your hot mouth on my dick. So nice and wet. Unh, do that some more. Yea, like that. Oh, that feels good."
Chris's words give Toby more confidence, and he shifts forward on his knees, moving his mouth faster on Chris's cock. He's not too surprised when he realizes that he's getting hard again and lets go of Chris's steadying thigh long enough to rub himself through his trousers. He knows that Chris can see what Toby's hand is doing, but rather than being embarrassed, Toby feels excited and his dick stiffens even more.
Toby's jaw is starting to ache a little and he miscalculates just how far down Chris's shaft he can go. He chokes, tries to cough, and is relieved when Chris pulls back. Toby looks up. He watches as Chris's whole body quivers, head lolling back and then Chris is looking down at Toby's upturned face again, eyes dark and full of promises.
"Yea, that feels so good Tobe, so nice, so fuckin' nice, c'mon," he urges as Toby takes several rapid breaths, "C'mon, show me how much you can take."
Toby's eyes narrow speculatively and he flashes Chris a mischievous grin as he considers how much he really can take. Toby licks his lips and Chris groans, the noise reverberating out from his chest. Getting closer once more, Toby kisses the tip of Chris's cock before slurping it into his mouth. He inclines his head, letting more and more of Chris cross his tongue and bump gently at the back of his mouth, just on the cusp of going down his throat. He hears Chris's breath catch, and pushes his palms more firmly on Chris's thighs as he readies himself for his next move.
Breathing heavily through his nose, Toby seals his lips around Chris's cock and just lunges forward. Chris makes a noise that's between a yell and a howl and starts talking again.
"Ohhhh, yeaaaa Toby. Oh Toby. Oh god. Oh god, that feels fuckin' incredible, shit, fuck, yeaaaaah."
Toby's target is right in front of him. Closing his eyes, he wiggles and inches his lips closer to Chris's abdomen, he's almost there... he hears a loud thud and freezes, opening his eyes. Chris has slammed his fist into the side of the truck by Toby's head. Wow. I made him do that. Toby feels powerful then, even though his mouth and part of his throat is stuffed full with cock. He takes a deep breath through his nose, moves his jaw from side to side and hears it crack satisfyingly. The ache lessens slightly, and he determinedly pushes on, wanting to make this good for Chris, wanting it to be memorable.
But Toby can't quite get there, can't take all of Chris, and he's crestfallen. Chris is quiet again, except for the occasional moan, and Toby feels responsible. He doesn't want to give up, though it's obvious he won't be able to go any further. Saliva dribbles out of the corner of Toby's mouth, so he swallows. There is an immediate effect of this action on Chris, who yanks Toby's hair painfully and then grabs the back of Toby's head with a strong hand, not letting him move backwards.
"Do that again," Chris says raggedly.
Oh-kay. Toby swallows again, this time tasting his own spit and Chris's precum that's muskier than before.
"Yea, again..." From above him.
Toby works his jaw around, pressing his tongue into the gland underneath his tongue, trying to conjure up more saliva. Chris groans, a long, drawn-out sound. The noise is a constant companion as Toby slides his tongue up against Chris's cock and back down. Finally he's able to swallow again and is rewarded when Chris's thighs tremble against the palms of his hands. He moves one hand to Chris's balls, rolling them between his fingers, still sucking as best he can. Chris's body goes taut and he clutches at Toby's head with both hands now, his next words tumbling out. "God, Toby, oh god, unnnnngh, yea, yea, yea, yea!"
Toby tries to jerk his head back as Chris comes, but he can't move and he nearly forgets how to breathe. And then Chris tilts Toby's head back a little and is staring at Toby's mouth, where he watches with fierce intensity as his cock slides back out of Toby's throat. Toby is still struggling to breathe as Chris hauls him up from the ground.
Toby's legs feel weak and useless but he manages to stay upright. Chris kisses him, wrapping his arms around Toby and licking into his mouth. Chris's dick is still half-hard, poking into Toby's hip, and Toby is reminded of how very desperately he would like to come. They continue to kiss, slow hot kisses that numb Toby's brain. He pushes his tongue into Chris's mouth first this time and is concentrating so hard on the way he tastes that he stumbles a bit when Chris lets him stand on his own.
Chris grasps his own cock with his left hand and starts to pull Toby's trousers down with his right, caressing Toby's buttocks with the flat of his hand. His fingers dips into the boxers, tugging them down slowly, his fingertips dancing over skin. Chris trails his index finger down Toby's crack and watches Toby shiver. Wanting to help speed along the disrobing process, Toby shoves his pants down the rest of the way. Chris captures his hand and leads him back to both of their cocks, taking them in one hand and compelling Toby to help rub them together.
Toby's hips thrust forward as he feels Chris's touch on his dick for the first time, made even more delicious by the stimulation of Chris's dick touching his with each glide.
"Feel good?" Chris asks gruffly.
"Oh, yeahhh," Toby says, his head falling forward so he can watch their hands moving in tandem over their dicks. His hair falls into his face but he can't be bothered to tuck it behind his ear. Their combined actions feel way too good.
"You like that, Tobe? You like our hands on your cock?" His voice rasps across the short distance that separates their mouths.
Toby looks up, needs to kiss Chris, needs to plunge his tongue into Chris's mouth. He has no words for how amazing it feels, no talent for talking dirty the way that Chris did earlier. The kiss goes deeper, each man sucking at the other's tongue, lips fused, panting heavily. Chris's thumb makes a particularly interesting swipe across the head of Toby's dick and Toby has to break the kiss, has to watch. They look down simultaneously, foreheads nearly colliding; Toby is enthralled by the way their cocks slide together, the heads poking into one another's stomachs, leaving sticky trails of precum. Chris's hand tightens around his hand, the added pressure around his cock makes Toby throw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a gasp.
Chris loosens his grip then, and moves back far enough so that he can step out of his jeans and briefs. He comes right back, though, and presses his body against Toby's, sinking down to lick his nipples and nibble at his stomach, bringing his hands around to Toby's ass cheeks. Toby's cock bobs near his face, and - finally, Toby thinks - Chris opens his mouth and licks across the tip, then under the ridge near the head. Toby's hips buck until Chris steadies him, using his hands on Toby's ass and his teeth on Toby's cock a little to slow him down, crowding him up against the door of the truck.
"Chris, oh, yes, oh yeah, Chris, please, suck it, suck my dick, please..." Toby whimpers.
Toby rests one hand on the nape of Chris's neck, running his fingers through the short bits of hair there, the other on Chris's shoulder, feeling his muscles flexing.
Chris runs the fingers of one hand down between Toby's ass cheeks, the other hand pressed firmly on Toby's thigh, feeling him stumble slightly. He opens his mouth and sucks Toby nearly all the way in, working his cock quickly, applying suction and releasing as Toby moans continuously above him. Chris swallows twice in succession, letting Toby feel how good that is, the compression and the muscled heat. Then he lets Toby slip from his mouth with a lewd sound. Toby groans pitifully as Chris stands back up in one fluid motion, his rock-hard prick throbbing.
Chris grabs Toby's cock, jerking it a few times before he puts his hands on Toby's shoulders and pushes. Open-mouthed and confused, Toby dutifully sinks back to his knees, watching as Chris grasps his own cock. Chris runs the tip of his dick over Toby's lips, pushes it briefly into his mouth and withdraws before Toby can protest, then trails it across Toby's nose and cheek, leaving a wet trail of saliva and precum behind. Chris strokes it a few more times before muttering, "Get in the back of the truck so I can fuck you."
Toby's legs start moving before his brain fully processes what Chris just said, and it's only when he tries to clamber up onto the open tailgate that he realizes his boxers and jeans are still wound around his ankles. He looks over his shoulder at Chris, expecting a chuckle at the very least, but Chris is staring at his ass, mouth set in a line of determination and eyes dark with desire.
Toby sits on the tailgate, legs swinging as he kicks off the rest of his clothes. With the slight lull in action, he's no longer as desperate to come, but his cock is still flushed and hard. Somewhat amused by the intense look on Chris's face, he waits until Chris walks over to him, then reaches his hand out to touch. He smiles brightly at Chris, who shakes his head and grins back, the intensity from just a second ago gone and humor alight in his eyes again. Toby wants to lick at his dimples.
Chris uses his arms to push himself up into the bed of the truck, then busies himself finding a blanket and pushing the cooler off to one side. He leans over the bale of hay, bending down and putting his lips against Toby's ear. "I'm gonna wipe that smile off your pretty face now," he rasps out, thrusting his hands into Toby's armpits and yanking him up and back over the blanket-covered hay bale.
Toby finds himself sprawled on his back with the bale supporting him, his legs spread out on each side lasciviously, and props himself up on one arm so he can watch Chris come back around in front of him.
Chris kneels, jacking himself off as he sucks Toby's dick into his throat with one swift motion. Toby's head falls back and he groans. Chris trails his fingers up under Toby's balls and Toby stiffens, even though he wants this. He wants Chris to fuck him. But - every lecture he's ever heard about safe sex pushes into his thoughts, every joke he's ever been told about anal sex crowds into his mind. Surely he's a little crazy from the heat to even be contemplating sex in the back of a pick-up truck with a man he met an hour ago. He doesn't even know Chris's last name, for god's sakes.
Chris pulls his mouth off of Toby and gives his dick one last lick before saying, "Toby? You all right?"
Appropriate response, think, Toby. "Um... yes?"
Chris chuckles softly. "Toby. Don't worry. I'm gonna make you feel so good. You're gonna love this, I promise." He pushes Toby's left thigh up, bending his leg at the knee and tells Toby to hold onto it. He shoves at Toby's other leg, shouldering his way in close to Toby's ass.
Toby's face is red from embarrassment, shock and his sunburn. No one has ever been this close to his ass, let alone when he's this exposed. Chris holds eye contact as he licks his first two fingers, then brings them to Toby's tiny pucker that convulses involuntarily as Chris sweeps the pads of his fingertips over it. Both men are breathing heavily as Chris dips his head down to softly nuzzle Toby's balls, one slow lick at a time, and only when Toby begins to unclench his abdominal muscles does Chris move toward his asshole, licking quick little catlicks all around the muscle and then just stuffing his tongue inside Toby as far as he can.
Toby's entire body jerks up, but Chris has one strong arm wrapped around the leg that Toby isn't holding onto, and there's nowhere to go. Toby can hear himself making little gasping noises, the air seeming thicker and harder to draw into his lungs, feeling each tiny lick as a trail of fire. He chokes off a yell as Chris's tongue stiffens and pushes into him again. His words are tumbling out without restraint, "Oh my god, oh, oh, it- it's so hard, good, so good, oh shit Chhhrrisss!"
Chris chuckles again, nosing into Toby's balls. He uses both hands now, one to help hold Toby's leg back, pushing on his calf, the other traps Toby's other leg and holds Toby open for his oral assault. Toby watches all of this helplessly; he tries to thrust his hips up but can't get enough leverage. Chris bites at the inside of Toby's thighs. He gives up, settles back and tries not to think about anything except the way Chris is making him feel.
"Toby, you taste so good." Chris slips his tongue back inside, curling it up and wiggling it around. "Mmmmmm..."
Tiny vibrations shimmy their way through Toby's body; his elbows buckle and the back of his head hits the blanket. He turns his head to one side, trying to inhale a full breath. His teeth grit as Chris seals his lips to Toby's hole and starts moving his tongue in a circular motion. Toby can't formulate any coherent thoughts after that, it's all a steady stream of so good, so hot, fucking wow, holy shit, oh my god, oh baby...
Chris stops, looking up, mischief gleaming in his eyes... one eyebrow's raised and he says, "Baby?" He grins, pulling Toby's hand to his own cock as Chris goes back to getting Toby as wet as possible - he spits onto Toby's balls, letting the saliva roll down to his asshole, then pushes his tongue inside again and again. He can feel the strain in the other man's body as Toby tries not to fuck himself against Chris's face.
Chris groans appreciatively, Toby's responses are so natural and unforced. Using his thumb to help massage some of the moisture into Toby's pucker, Chris laughs softly when Toby tries to grip the tip of his thumb as he pulls it out. "Gonna open you up now, gonna fuck you so good... That's it, open up for me," Chris's voice is a hypnotic drawl. "Yea, I love licking your ass, Toby."
Toby feels so out of his depth but needs to say something so he whispers, "I love you licking it," blushing even more. Chris throws his head back with a hearty laugh, then leans back on his thighs, kneeling before Toby. He shows off: uses his hand to pinch at his own nipples, runs the flat of his hand down his stomach, down to his cock, fisting it again, jacking off as he watches Toby laying there, breathless, hair tousled, limbs quivering, hot, hot, hot.
Toby's eyes track his every move, watching him stroke his cock. Chris slows his movements and sighs contentedly, then speeds up just to watch Toby's eyes glaze over with lust.
Under Chris's appreciative stare, Toby finds the courage to say, "Keep going, please, get my ass nice and wet... for, for your cock."
Chris growls deep in his throat and lunges forward again, stabbing his tongue in and out of Toby's ass until Toby pushes against his shoulder. "Chris, I'm, I'm gonna, gonna come-"
Chris looks up at him from between his spread thighs, dark blue eyes glinting and says casually, "So?" just as he pushes one finger deep inside of Toby.
And Toby's gone, done, jerking forward, his head tossing from side to side, all of his energy released in a loud yell, thighs trembling, chest heaving, asshole clamping down on Chris's finger, riding the wave. He lets out a sad, slightly mortified groan when Chris removes his finger and lets himself be manhandled. Chris pushes his limbs around until he's on a flatter surface, still in the truck and on the blanket, but off of the bale and closer to the tailgate. Chris has one foot on the truck's wide bumper wedged against the trailer hitch and one knee tucked underneath him.
He drags his fingers through the stickiness on Toby's stomach and brings it back to his cock, which jumps under his touch. He brings his hand up to his mouth and licking away the rest of Toby's come. Toby can't look away.
One of Toby's legs bends at the knee and sticks out awkwardly to the side: the other is bent up and around Chris's arm and shoulder, his calf resting on Chris's bicep. Chris fumbles with a paper bag near the cooler. He winks at Toby and says, "I was a Boy Scout too," and holds up a small foil square. He rips open the condom wrapper with his teeth and spits off to one side before rolling the rubber down.
Then Chris is bending down, leaning over to lick a couple of wide swaths up Toby's re-awakening cock. Chris straightens up again and circles the very tip of his dick around Toby's asshole, resting it against the spit-slick hole, letting the anticipation build. Toby's body shudders at Chris's next words: "You ready for my dick, Toby? You ready for a good fuck, yea, I know you are. Been begging for it this whole time. I've gotta feel you around me. I can't wait any longer, Tobe, god you're so hot... I've gotta fuck you now."
But still he holds off, watching Toby's face carefully. He waits so long that Toby finally raises his eyes up to Chris's face, and it's only when their gazes meet that Chris pushes his hips forward and enters Toby's heat.
"Oh, god. Oh Toby. Holy fuck, you're tight."
Toby feels as though his entire body has contracted; he's frozen in place, afraid to stay that way but equally scared to come undone. Chris has a tight grip on Toby's hips and is literally pulling Toby down onto his cock.
Moving his legs, scrabbling for purchase on the bed of the truck, Toby finally finds traction with his feet against the sides of the truck and tries to back up, but Chris won't let go.
"Nooo, no, Toby, it's okay, you're fine, just relax, breathe, you're gonna be fine, c'mon now." The words filter through Toby's panic and, just like before, calm him down. Chris lightly touches Toby's cock and the breath Toby's holding expels in a whoosh. "Toby," Chris says sternly, "you didn't tell me this was your first time."
Toby feels rebellious, though not enough to actually deny anything. "So?" He replies, aiming for blasé. "What difference does it make, anyway?"
Chris grins at him. "Don't make no difference to me, Tobe. `Specially not if it doesn't for you." He thrusts his hips forward sharply and drives further into Toby.
Toby howls. "Aw, fuck!" It takes him a minute to regain coherent thought after the sudden pressure of pain, and he levels a hard glare at Chris.
Smiling smugly, Chris says, "Yea, that's what I thought," then reaches over Toby's leg and rummages into the paper bag again. "Okay, ready? Push me out now, yea, like that."
Chris is riveted by the sight of his cock as it leaves Toby's body. He pops the cap on a tube and eases himself the rest of the way out before slicking up his cock.
When his body is entered for the second time, Toby feels uncomfortable, but he's not hurting. Chris establishes a slow, rocking pace and presses in shallowly. The discomfort fades, and Toby's hands uncurl from fists. He puts both arms behind his head, his eyes tracking the faint sprinkling of dark hair on Chris's chest down to where their bodies are joined. Chris moves slightly faster, pushing deeper each time. Toby's body tingles and his hips buck up suddenly as the head of Chris's cock pushes firmly against his prostate.
"Yea, feels good, don't it?" Chris's voice catches his attention, and Toby knows his wonder must be showing on his face, but - wow. Toby pushes back against Chris's dick, wanting more. "You all right there, Tobe?"
"Mmmm..." Is the most Toby can manage over the staccato beat of his heart in his ears.
"Something you want?" Chris cocks an eyebrow at him questioningly.
Experimentally, Toby clenches his ass. Chris groans, but doesn't move any faster.
"Chrisss..." Toby whines, squeezing around him again.
Bastard. "I thought you were going to fuck me," Toby grouses.
Chris's eyes narrow, and a hungry grin flashes across his face. "You got that right, baby."
Chris leans closer so their chests are parallel. He puts his palms flat on either side of Toby's torso, his biceps flexing as he rests himself on his arms. He pulls back and plunges into Toby's heat, his hips pistoning forward again and again. The force of his movements is jarring, and Toby has to brace himself against the bracket of Chris's arms. Toby shoves himself onto Chris's cock every time it sinks into him. Their eyes meet, and Toby is struck by the covetous look in Chris's stare. He leans his head forward and bites at Chris's bottom lip, wringing a loud groan from him.
Reluctantly, Toby draws back, his lungs demanding oxygen. He heaves in a breath, and Chris attacks. Every time his hips pump forward, Chris's tongue stabs into Toby's open mouth, probing, licking at his teeth and lips.
Toby can't stay quiet any longer; the sheer pleasure rolling down his body from his mouth to his ass compels him to speak. "Oh, yeah, oh, oh, yeaaah, fuck me, yeahhh," he groans, the drag of Chris's dick across his prostate is making him harder than he ever thought possible, his mind whirling, his body caught in a rush of anticipation and excitement.
Chris kneels up, grabbing Toby's calves and pushing his legs down toward his chest. Holding them there, he surges into Toby even faster, thrusting twice each time before pulling back. He puts his hands on his own ass, helping himself shove harder into Toby.
"Oh fuck yea, that's... oh, fuck, you feel so good." Chris grinds down again, his hips moving in a circle. "Yea, Toby, so tight around my dick, so hot, you're so hot."
Toby pushes and clenches until his legs feel numb, and Chris is still staring down at him, his eyes half-closed and his body covered in a sheen of sweat. All of his attention is for Toby, and Toby shivers a little to be the object of such unrestrained lust.
Toby has to move his legs out to the side again, and Chris grabs his ankles, bringing Toby's heels up to rest on Chris's shoulders. He slows his thrusts, pushing Toby's thighs together. Chris drills into him even deeper than before, the change in pace and position making Toby gasp for air. He can feel every inch stuffing itself inside his ass. Toby looks down at his own cock, which is deep red and throbbing.
Chris's breathing evens out and the look in his eyes is calculating. He pushes Toby's legs off to the side and helps him to roll over nearly effortlessly onto his elbows and knees. Chris uses the lube again, then puts one hand onto Toby's hip, the other smoothing down his back, then returning to his hair, tugging at the ends before using both hands to spread Toby open as he sinks his cock deep yet again.
Toby gulps, his face is almost touching the blanket and his ass is stuck up in the air. He feels even more exposed than before, the intimate connection broken since he can't look at Chris's face. But his prick is still rock-hard and he can't seem to control his pelvis from rocking back against Chris. He can feel the prickle of hair against his ass. Chris reaches around and tickles Toby's balls lightly, scratching at them. Toby's hand goes to his cock for a few strokes before Chris stops him, wrapping a strong arm around Toby's middle and hefting him up so that he's on his hands and knees.
Chris's dick slides into him again, and the difference in angle makes Toby's body convulse. Chris sets a jerky rhythm, his hands gripping Toby's hips and pulling him back as Chris thrusts harder into his hole.
The penetration is rougher but instead of shying away, Toby likes it. His body undulates; he lets his head drop, watching his cock bobbing each time Chris lunges forward. "Yeah, that's gooood, your dick, feels, feels so good in... in my... in my ass, uhh..."
Chris squeezes Toby's hips tighter and groans so loudly Toby can feel the vibration in his body. He pounds into Toby, muttering under his breath. Toby looks back over his shoulder: he has to see him, needs to see his expression. Chris's face is contorted with pleasure, his lips pulled back in a feral snarl, eyes half-lidded and hot as he watches his cock sliding in and out of Toby.
Words waft down to Toby's ears. "So hot, so tight, Toby it's so good, your ass, it's, it's mine now," and Toby shudders violently. He clutches at Chris's dick with his muscles, trying to hold him inside. Chris moans and his hips stutter as he bucks wildly into Toby.
"Fuuuuccck," Chris's voice scrapes over Toby's skin.
Abruptly, Chris pulls all the way out, and Toby's disappointed sigh is nearly a sob.
"I know, baby, I'm sorry, but I gotta see you, I gotta see your pretty face when I make you come. Oh, gonna make you come soon, Toby, promise."
Toby rests his forehead on the blanket, gathering his strength, and then manages to push himself up and flop over onto his back. Chris stands, his dick standing straight up. His whole body is flushed and Toby trembles at the sight. Chris bends down to kiss Toby, sucking on his lips, licking at them. He trails his fingers down Toby's chest and stomach, avoiding his cock, his fingernails grazing along Toby's upper thigh. Toby's wound tight, he hisses and arches up, seeking more contact.
"Okay, I got ya, here ya go, here, Toby..." Chris slides back into him as he says Toby's name.
"Unngh," Toby groans. "Yes, please, more, please Chris," he whispers.
Toby's ass is slick and hot. Chris fucks him hard and fast, ramming into him. Toby winds his legs around Chris's hips, holding him close, digging his heels into Chris's ass.
"Oh yeah, fuck me, yeah," Toby shouts. Chris's fevered breath is scorching against his neck. He maneuvers one hand between their bodies and grabs a hold of Toby's cock, jerking it in time with his thrusts. Toby's head lolls back, his whole body rigid as a thundering wave of ecstasy engulfs him. He can feel his orgasm coiled in the pit of his belly, he's so close-
Still pulling on Toby's prick, Chris leans back, sucks a finger into his mouth and then pushes it into Toby alongside his cock. He wiggles and crooks it, holding the pad of his finger right on Toby's prostate and rubs.
Toby comes. He yells out a guttural sound, his eyes roll back into his head and his legs shake from the strain. He throws his head back against the bed of the truck so hard that he nearly bites through his lip, but he doesn't feel any pain, just sees exploding colors behind his eyelids and the welcome heat of cum on his chest and stomach.
Finally, Chris pulls his finger from Toby's ass and releases his cock. He continues to thrust quickly, and Toby tries his best to suck Chris's orgasm out through his ass muscles. Chris leans down, gathering Toby in his arms, his hips snapping, pistoning forward. He's grunting with the need to come, nearly hunched over. "Toby!"
Suddenly, Chris jerks and stiffens, then pulls out in a fluid motion. He whips off the condom and grabs his dick, stroking it punishingly. They're both panting raggedly. Chris's body seizes, his abdominal muscles tight with effort. Toby's eyes flutter shut and instantly reopen when Chris growls; he's in time to see Chris's orgasm ripple through his body and he watches as Chris's cock sprays him with hot cum.
Then Chris is leaning forward to take both of their cocks loosely in his hand, their ultra-sensitive flesh rubbing against each other, each slide a burst of sensation, the tips colliding and smacking against each other, and Toby's dick dribbles out an extra shot of cum. Both men groan at the sight.
Sitting up, Chris smiles broadly at Toby. He runs his finger down across Toby's asshole, feeling it quiver under his touch. He drags his finger through the stickiness on Toby's stomach, collecting some of his cum. Chris brings his finger up to Toby's swollen mouth, his fingertip rubbing back and forth over his lips until Toby opens his mouth and sucks Chris's finger inside.
"Fuck, that's hot," Chris tells him.
They use a corner of the blanket to wipe off the rest of the come. Chris licks a stripe up from Toby's nipple to his neck. "Mmm, you smell good," he rumbles.
Toby chuckles. "Yeah, I'll bet."
"No, you do," Chris insists. "You smell like me."
True to his word, Chris gave Toby a ride to a nearby town. Toby held the door of the truck open as he weighed his words, trying to figure out a way to say goodbye. Chris beat him to it.
"I'll see you."
"Oh yeah?" Toby laughed wistfully. "When?"
"Never know, Tobe, it's a small world."
Toby shrugged out of his suit jacket and let it fall to the floor. He loosened his tie and collapsed wearily onto the couch. He kicked off his shoes and stretched his legs out onto the coffee table. It had been a long day: the paperwork with the Luden case had been misfiled and the prosecution had sent over three boxes' worth of witness information to his office. Normally, this kind of overload was routine for Toby: he spent innumerable days tracking down lost information and ferreting out new sources. He pored over witness testimony for countless hours. But over the past weeks, this sort of detailed work had begun to lose its appeal, and his job suffered because as he found himself zoned out at the most inopportune times. Also, he was losing sleep. His dreams were consumed with what could only be described as pornography.
Chris and Toby: sucking, fucking, kissing and tugging at each other's bodies. It was always almost the same loop played back in his head. In his dream, Toby approached the truck from a distance. He could yell or shout but nothing deterred the two bodies in the bed of the truck from continuing their carnal activities. They were totally wrapped up in each other, and Toby leaned against the side of the truck to watch. While he stared, he felt the waves of desire and pleasure that emanated from his own dream-body. The look on his dream-face was rapturous, and Toby always awakened before either man climaxed, his own dick in his hand, furiously rubbing it.
Toby sighed. Since his return from the woods, he'd made a conscious effort to ogle male bodies, but no one came close to the perfect specimen he'd gawked at nearly two months ago. After he dreamed the same dream almost every night for three weeks, Toby was desperate. He bought a DVD called `Truck Stop Daddies' and blushed so hard watching the first scene that he turned it off. Half an hour later, he turned it back on, nervously, and stared open-mouthed until he was so hard he had to jerk off.
The dream didn't come that night and Toby felt relief, mixed with inexplicable disappointment. He was able to function at the office and his paralegal complimented him on his shirt. Toby smiled, thanked her, closed the door to his office and sagged against it. He was wearing a replica of the shirt he'd had on when his car broke down. That night, the dream returned with a vengeance, and when Toby awakened, a picture of Chris's hot eyes and hard dick etched into his brain, his stomach was sticky and he quickly changed the sheets before heading to work.
After a few more run-throughs, the DVD held little interest and Toby gathered his courage and went into a gay bar. After two martinis, it was shockingly easy to pick up a tall, dark-haired man. Toby made it as far as the bathroom with the man - Steve - and had even submitted to a kiss before he was overcome with panic and bolted. Back at his apartment, he furiously brushed his teeth: the taste of the other man's mouth had been wrong, and Toby was startled by that realization as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, toothpaste smeared on his lips. Well, shit.
At that point, he'd even considered hiring a private investigator, but had so little information to offer that he decided against it. `Oh yes, I'm looking for a man named Chris, he might live in New York, and he drives a silver truck.' That certainly narrowed it down. Plus, he had no idea if Chris had given him another thought after dropping him at a garage on the outskirts of the city. Toby replayed their last conversation in his head, and thought it had probably been a brush-off. Thanks for the sex, Tobe, gotta run.
It was odd, though. Going in and out of the courthouse in Manhattan so much, he began to think he actually saw Chris, glimpses of tan skin, short dark hair, broad shoulders. But he'd never been fast enough to catch up with any of the men, and Toby thought that maybe he'd been inventing what he wanted to see.
Toby hasn't had the dream for two nights now, and it has been easier to sleep. Slowly, his brain has been forgetting the exact lines of Chris's face and body, and the image of the two men in the truck is fading. Instead of making him happy like he should be, it only makes him sad to lose the memory of the hottest sex he'd ever had.
Toby puts the finishing touches on his meal and carries the plate to the dining room table. He uses the remote control to flick on the television, settling on a news channel. Keeping the volume low, he begins to eat, shuffling through the pages of a deposition at the same time.
"Breaking news..." the newscaster drones.
Toby continues scanning the file before him, though as he glances up at the television briefly. Suddenly, he does a double take, and gropes for the remote, turning the volume up without taking his eyes from the screen.
"Thank you, Frank. I'm here on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, where it appears the investigators searching for Will Parrett may have a new lead. Dr. Parrett is the Dean of a boarding school for troubled youth just outside the city, where he acted as both a counselor and the agriculture teacher. He has been missing for a little over two months, when he disappeared after being contacted for questioning in a string of child molestation crimes at The Hill School for Adolescent Boys in Rockland County. He still remains the main suspect in these alleged incidents.
In a bizarre look-alike arrest, Detective Elliot Stabler of the Special Victims Unit apprehended one Christopher Keller, occupation unknown, in the vehicle. It has been confirmed that the vehicle is registered in Mr. Parrett's name. The Manhattan Special Victims Unit has had this vehicle under twenty-four-hour surveillance, and though there has been no sign of Dr. Parrett, the NYPD believes that Mr. Keller may have additional information about the incidents and on the Dean's whereabouts. Currently, Mr. Keller is being held for questioning while a forensics unit examines the vehicle..."
Toby's head fills with a buzzing noise; the reporter's voice trails off. The picture in the upper left-hand corner of the screen held his attention. It's an outlined box, with a white line running straight down the middle. On one side is a close-up of a person who looks like Chris, eyes hard in a closed face, wearing a zipped-up jacket. On the other is another man who looks a lot like Chris, but with a very different expression on his face, wearing a suit and tie. Toby turns the volume up even louder, physically unable to get up and move closer to the television.
The camera pans to where a silver pickup truck is being hoisted onto a tow truck. Yellow crime tape encircles the area, and several reporters and cameramen are grouped around a short man in a trench coat.
Toby coughs. He's been holding his breath and he nearly chokes on his mouthful of food. Swallowing, he wipes his face with his napkin and pushes his chair back from the table, shakily standing up.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god. Toby recognizes both men from the picture and makes it halfway to the couch before he drops to his knees and dry-heaves.
"A department spokesman will only say that the truck does, in fact, belong to Parrett, and the driver has been taken into custody. There is a rumor that blood was found in the truck's bed, although there is no official confirmation at this time on that. The investigation is on-going..."
Toby shuts his eyes and tightens his grip on the remote, managing to hit the `mute' button. His mind is spinning out of control.
The rest of the night is a jumble of thoughts and noises. Every news channel quickly picks up the story, and Parrett's picture is plastered up next to the ones of the driver and the cop. No, Toby corrects himself, Chris and Elliot. Oh, god. The only update on the story comes on the eleven o'clock news, when an issued press release affirms that there is no blood relation between Christopher Keller and Elliot Stabler.
He's still in his work clothes, frozen in place on the sofa. His shoulders ache a little from the heaving, and the line of his back is tense. He can place Chris in the truck two months ago, sans Parrett. The police would definitely be interested in that tidbit. Toby knows he has decisions to make, but hell if he knows what the answers are.
After a long, hot shower, Toby falls into bed. His body and mind are exhausted, but he can't turn off his brain, and his thoughts continue to whirl around. He's still in shock from the realization that it was Detective Elliot Stabler that he took up to the penthouse with him. Toby tries as hard as he can to remember more about their conversation at the bar and details about their night of passion, but is stymied; he recalls laughter and sharing stories about women, hushed breaths and tightened nipples, slow kisses and... shadows. Low groans. Toby shakes his head. He doesn't even remember Elliot saying anything specific about his job.
Both the location and the timing of when and where he met Chris stick in his mind. He's conflicted: there were moments when Toby recognized Chris's strength, reveled in his intensity and flirted with the idea that Chris could be somewhat dangerous, but it didn't make sense to him why Chris would be driving Parrett's truck. Or rather, that Chris could have any relationship with a man wanted by the police for molesting adolescent boys. Did Chris have anything to do with Parrett's disappearance?
Toby's scared by that thought, and his mind jumps to the fact that Elliot and Chris look like they could be twins... brothers... related somehow. He shivers a little, and wraps his comforter tighter over his shoulders. He's not even sure what happened with Elliot, but he knows the dream-reel starring Chris was as real as it gets. He's pretty sure that he's freaking out, because he's staring at the same spot on the ceiling and he can't look away or even blink. Chris-Elliot-Chris-Elliot-oh-god. OH GOD. His mind helpfully conjures up a visual of Elliot, Chris and himself in the woods; they're all nearly naked, gleaming with perspiration, and touching. Oh god! Toby forces himself to sit up. He's sweating, so he kicks off the blanket and grabs the remote to switch on the fan. He needs a plan.
Toby lies on top of the covers, the soft whirring of the fan camouflaging his occasional crazed giggle. He's actually seriously considering going to the precinct. Huh. Probably not one of my better plans. He's unsure of several things: what Elliot's reaction will be, what Chris's reaction will be - both to seeing him and to his possible knowledge that Elliot's the cop Toby messed around with, and whether or not he can make it through the night without self-medicating with his largest bottle of gin.
The worst part is that he's unsure of his motives for going to the station at all. He feels simultaneously happy and guilty at the prospect of seeing Chris again. He's not even certain that he would care all that much even if Chris did have something to do with the missing dean, and the defense lawyer in him begins to speculate on additional scenarios. Toby is fairly certain that Chris didn't have anything to do with the molestations, though. Why on earth would he stoop that low, when he could easily talk his way into anyone's pants within half an hour of meeting them? Clearly, he had no problems getting into mine.
Wearing one of his priciest suits, hair brushed back and briefcase in hand, Toby opened the door to the Sixteenth Precinct in Manhattan. He approached the desk sergeant who directed him to the Special Victims Unit. He paused at the doorway and scanned the room. Four or five officers were gathered around a whiteboard covered with photographs and hand-written timelines. Toby's stomach clenched when he recognized the broad shoulders and back of Elliot Stabler. He edged closer to hear their conversation.
An authoritative-looking bald man addressed Stabler. "What's the update on Keller?"
Stabler's jaw tightened. "He's familiar with the proceedings. He's technically not a suspect, so we've only got a few more hours before we'll have to charge him or let him go."
"Did he give anything up on Parrett?" This was from a slim, brown-haired woman.
"No. He's not talking at all. He just looks at me and," Elliot paused, "laughs. Dammit! He's gotta know something. Anything back from that school yet?"
The female detective started to say something and then caught sight of Toby, who hovered in the background. "Can I help you with something?" she asked.
Toby's eyes were riveted on Stabler, who turned around and froze when he saw Toby. Myriad emotions ran across his face: surprise, guilt, a flicker of happiness and then cold professionalism settled in. "I've got this, Liv," he said. He walked over to Toby and hissed, "What are you doing here?"
"Can we talk somewhere?" Toby was proud at how even his voice sounded.
Stabler scratched the back of his head. His eyes darted from Toby's face to his briefcase, and then he said, "Yea, come on, in here." He waved to the brown-haired woman, who watched them both with concern. "We'll be right back."
After closing the door to an interview room, Elliot spun around and got right into Toby's face. "What the hell are you doing here? How did you even know where I worked?" His shoulders were tense and he unconsciously began rolling down his pushed-up shirtsleeves.
Toby didn't back down. "I saw you on the news."
Elliot's whole body relaxed; his eyes warmed up immediately and he laughed wryly. He rubbed his hands up over his face and back through his hair. "It's crazy. I mean, everyone's got a twin, right? Doppelgangers. It's funnier when it's not your double who turns up in the middle of a case."
"Is he still here?" Toby's tone was light.
"Yea, we can't find anything to charge him on, because there's nothing to disprove his one statement that Parrett lent him the truck." It was clear from Elliot's voice that he thought Chris Keller was lying. "Anyway... what are you doing here?" Suddenly his voice was tempered with suspicion.
Toby hesitated, then made his decision. "I'm Keller's lawyer," he said. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a business card, proffering it to Elliot. He looked straight into Elliot's eyes and saw a flash of outraged betrayal.
"I'm here to represent my client," Toby responded. He thought for a moment that Stabler might punch him; he looked so enraged.
Elliot looked down at the card held out to him and snatched it from Toby's hand. "`Beecher & Carridan, Attorneys-at-Law.' You're Tobias Beecher?!"
"My reputation precedes me, I gather." Toby squared his shoulders. "I want to see my client now."
Stabler flung the door open so fast it ricocheted off a filing cabinet with a loud bang. He stalked out of the room and Toby trailed after him. The other detectives looked up as they approached, and Stabler grated out, "This is Mr. Beecher. He's Keller's attorney."
All of their faces smoothed out into blank cordiality, and the woman stepped forward. "Mr. Beecher. I'm Detective Benson. You can follow me."
Toby accompanied her to an interrogation room, where she opened the door and motioned for him to enter. Toby adjusted his tie, took a deep breath and stepped into the room after Detective Benson.
"It's about time, sweetheart."
Toby heard the familiar drawl.
"Just you this time, huh? Whatever. Wake me up when I can go."
"Your lawyer's here." Detective Benson stepped off to the side and Toby saw Chris seated in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs sprawled to each side. His eyes were closed, but they opened at her words, and he and Toby shared a long moment of silent communication before a wide smile crept over Chris's face.
"Well, fuck me." Chris drew out the vowels in the phrase, his eyes still focused solely on Toby.
The door closed and still they stared at one another. Finally, Toby walked forward and put his briefcase on the table. He pulled the other chair out from the table and sat down.
"'Bout time you showed up, Beecher." Chris's voice was lilting; there was an undercurrent of derision, but his face still showed his smile.
"Oh yeah? You've been expecting me?" Toby asked quietly.
"Told ya I'd see you again, Tobe." His words transported Toby right back to the last time he'd seen Chris. Toby blushed. There was a short pause, and then Chris said, "Knew you'd come for one of us." Chris winked at him. "Just wasn't sure it'd be me."
Toby gaped at him, then closed his mouth firmly and said, "They aren't charging you with anything. They can't hold you any longer, and unless you have something else you'd like to tell the detectives, we should go."
Chris stood up and hooked his thumbs through the belt loops on his jeans. His fingers were perilously close to his fly, and Toby stared for a minute before he realized what he was doing and snapped his gaze back up to Chris's face. Chris's eyes gleamed in a predatory way and he stepped around the table to Toby's side.
"Or we could stay here a while longer, if that's what you really want, Toby. Jailhouse kink?" Chris whispered into Toby's ear.
Toby managed a weak smile, then picked up his briefcase. "What I really want is to get out of here."
Eyes dark and hot, Chris slowly looked Toby up and down. "Your wish is my command." He grinned at Toby. "Let's go."
Toby was extremely relieved to see that Elliot was no longer in the common room. He wasn't sure he could handle being in a room with both Chris and Elliot. He nodded his head at Detective Benson and the bald man who stood by the whiteboard, then made for the hallway. He could feel Chris next to him. Their arms rubbed together as they waited for the elevator and under his shirt, the skin of Toby's forearm prickled as if their bare skin was touching. He felt flushed and his mouth kept going dry.
They were the only two people in the elevator, and the trip downstairs was a silent one. Usually when Toby escorted a client out of a stationhouse, they were dying to talk as soon as they were out of the interview rooms. But Chris was didn't say a word, and Toby had the unpleasant feeling that Chris was, in fact, familiar with the proceedings.
There was one more long hallway to navigate, as Toby wanted to exit from the side of the building and avoid any other SVU detectives who might be in front. He steered Chris to the left, and they walked for about ten feet before Toby tensed. Up ahead, Detective Stabler leaned in a doorway, his body stiff with anger, jaw working hard around a coffee straw. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was glaring right at them.
Toby's steps slowed, and he almost came to a stop.
Chris whispered in his ear, "That your cop?"
"Yea, thought so." Toby could tell Chris was grinning.
Chris sped up his stride and Toby was forced to hurry as well. He didn't want any kind of confrontation to occur, but Chris just walked past the open doorway without a word or even a glance at Stabler. Toby sighed with relief as they left Elliot behind, and then Chris put his hand on Toby's ass and squeezed. Toby squirmed; he felt Elliot's eyes burning across his back and he watched as Chris turned his head back toward Elliot and smirked.
Then they were outside, down the steps and into the bright sunshine of the day. Toby whirled, dislodging Chris's hand, and hissed, "What the hell?"
"What the hell, baby?" Chris mocked Toby's last sentence. "You made your choice. What's the problem?" His eyes were cold.
Toby was suddenly inexpressibly furious. "You- he- you-," he stuttered, unable to articulate his anger. The words finally burst free: "Why don't you just piss on me?!"
Chris grabbed him by the shoulder. His voice was low as he rumbled out, "Don't tell me you aren't happy to see me, Toby. I know you are. You haven't been able to get me outta your head, have you, baby? You're the one who came to me, remember? We had a deal, and I helped you out just like I said I would. Why are you mad at me? C'mon, Tobe. Tell me you're happy to see me."
Toby's fury drained away as quickly as it had appeared. "I- I am. This, this is just-" He rubbed a hand through his hair and sighed.
Chris chucked ruefully. "No shit."
Toby managed a weak smile. "So... you hungry?"
"Fuck yea," Chris said. "You buying?"
Toby laughed out loud. "Yeah, whatever."
They were almost to a restaurant Toby had in mind when Chris said, "I like it when you smile."
"Huh?" Toby shook his head. Chris had gone from dangerous to complimentary in less than two minutes.
Chris rolled his eyes. "I said, I like-"
"No, I heard you. Uh. Thanks." Toby slanted a glance at Chris's profile.
"Yea, okay. Hey Tobe, c'mere," Chris said right before he took hold of Toby's jacket and pushed him into a narrow alley between two buildings. Toby's breath expelled in a whoosh as his back hit a brick wall. He dropped his briefcase on his foot, but before he could get out an appropriate curse word, Chris kissed him.
Toby's mouth was already open and Chris took full advantage, sealing his lips over Toby's and thrusting his tongue inside. One hand combed through Toby's hair, getting a good grip and tilting Toby's head to the side. Chris brought his mouth to Toby's neck and licked a wide swath up the skin to his ear, nibbling on the earlobe, breathing out how hot Toby was, how good he looked, how his smile made Chris hard. Chris returned to Toby's mouth, sucking on his bottom lip. Toby groaned as Chris's other hand ran down his body and cupped at his groin. Toby's dick twitched.
Chris moved his hand away and pressed his body up against Toby and the wall, staring until Toby opened his eyes. Toby jerked his head forward and latched onto Chris's lips again. He touched Chris's shoulders and biceps, his whole body trembling. Toby embraced this feeling of re-kindling their attraction and his dick hardened even more. After a frustrated moan, Toby said, "I am happy to see you. I am."
Chris ground his hips against Toby. Both men panted as they kissed passionately. Their tongues wrestled and Toby felt the familiar coil of orgasm as it settled in his stomach. Without warning, Chris pushed himself off of Toby and took a step back so their bodies were no longer touching. Toby's legs shook and for a minute he thought he might fall over. He immediately missed Chris's strength and warmth on him.
Chris watched him through unreadable eyes. Then he spoke. "Not so lost anymore?"
After a split-second hesitation, Toby smiled. He felt a rush of desire mixed with joy; Chris hadn't forgotten him. He looked at Chris and grinned. "No, I know exactly where I am."
Chris smiled back.
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