[Home | Quicksearch | Search Engine | Random Story | Upload Story]


by CatHeights

I didn't see you standing,
still that statue that I molded in my mind to kiss,
so beautiful you'll never move again.

The Weakerthans, "Without Mythologies"

He should be scared when the lights go out, but he's been waiting for it, hoping for it actually. Footsteps approach—Keller. At least it better be Keller, or he's screwed himself to death rather than simply letting Keller screw him over. A giggle bubbles up his throat, and Toby clamps down on the sound, remaining silent.

Hands slide down his back, over his ass, and then Keller roughly turns him. It's so dark he can barely make out shapes, but that doesn't stop him from believing he can see Keller's face, expression carved into menace and eyes burning with lust, anger and that indescribable spark that draws Toby in like a frantic moth.

Keller pulls at his zipper, and Toby shudders in anticipation. Boxers and pants scrape past his thighs and pool at his ankles. He's so fucking hard and Keller's barely touched him.

Toby feels Keller's lips press against the inside of his thigh, and then his balls are gently tongued. He swears his knees are going to give out. Keller knows exactly what to do to bring him off fast. Except Toby wants to go slow, take their time, but it's not about what he wants. This is Keller's show.

When Keller's mouth slides over his cock, Toby comes close to saying, "Chris." Instead, he bites down on his tongue, hard enough that the taste of blood fills his mouth. He made that mistake once before. There are rules to this encounter—no touching, no talking. Toby may not understand the reason for the rules, but he knows if he fucks them up, Chris leaves, and that's an unacceptable outcome. These encounters are all he has.

He tries to calm down, to make this last, but his body, like everything else in life, betrays him. Clenching his hands to keep from reaching out for Chris, Toby feels the orgasm build. It should be a release, but nothing is ever that simple. Pleasure courses through his body relaxing muscles, but as it rips its way through him, he feels like he's being gutted—ripped to shreds with longing and want and the knowledge that this isn't enough. It's never enough.

By the time he's shuddered through the last of his orgasm, Keller's gone.

Toby slowly pulls up his boxers and pants, and then he slides down to sit on the floor, drawing his knees to his chest. He stares into the darkness, letting it numb his mind and seep into his skin.


The first time Keller surprised him in the supply closet, Toby had been hopeful that the encounter was Keller's way of saying, "I forgive you." He couldn't have been more wrong.

When Keller had laid down the rules, he'd never thought to ask questions. At the time, he'd just been eager to do whatever Keller wanted, if it meant his forgiveness. Later, though, when Keller had acted like the encounter hadn't happened, that nothing had changed, Toby had been furious.

Now, he just goes to the storage room each day at the same time, hoping that day will be the day Keller shows. He swallows what little pride he has left and hoards his anger for later use.


Inside the supply closet, Toby paces, so giddy he can't remain still. For once, he's the one calling the shots, making the rules. Ronnie, Ronnie, Keller's old pal and the perfect fuck buddy. Keller isn't going to kill his old friend, Ronnie. Toby giggles. He likes this game.

"Be careful Toby. Someone hears you laughing like that, and they might think you're one crazy motherfucker."

Toby jumps and turns to see Keller leaning against the doorframe. With a frown, he says, "And you think I care." The lights are on and Keller's talking. That's not how this usually works. Keller's changing the rules and that can't be good.

"No, I know you don't." Keller's grin is wide, almost lazy. He pushes away from the doorframe. "Sorry to do this to you, Beech, but our little rendezvous ain't gonna happen today." Keller lets out an exaggerated sigh. "I got a better offer, so you're just gonna have to take care of yourself. Enjoy your hand." As he walks out of the room, he says, "Oh and have a good night."

Toby stares. What the fucking hell was that? A feeling of unease curdles inside his stomach. What did Keller mean by a better offer? No, he was just messing with his mind, that's all. Keller's jealous and trying to turn the tables his way. Well, not this time. This time he's got all the cards. If he gives it a day or two, Keller will be back here again, on his knees and sucking Toby's cock.

He's sure of it.

Several hours later, after lights out, when Ronnie turns him down flat, he's no longer sure of anything, except somehow Keller always come out on top. Keller moons him from across the way, and Toby wonders why the hell he even bothers. He should just admit defeat and move on, except he has no idea how to stop wanting Chris Keller.


The world is gray—cold and dreary. Barefoot, Toby shivers in the snow. He leans forward, forehead resting against the wall. Hands slide around his waist, warming him. Chris says his name, and the sound chases away the chill.

"Turn around," Chris says.

Toby shakes his head. No, he doesn't want to do that. He presses back against Chris, rubbing and creating more warmth.

"Turn around."


But Chris is insistent, and so finally, he does. No one is there.

Panicked, Toby runs through the clearing, feet sliding on snow. "Chris," he shouts. His ankle scrapes against a stone bench, and he stumbles into a statue. When he looks up, he notices the statue is free of snow and seems very familiar.

It's a statue of Chris, carved out of a stone that's so luminous it hurts his eyes, and yet he can't stop looking because the statue is beautiful, tempting. He places a hand on the statue's shoulder, and his eyes suddenly feel heavy, so he lets them slip closed. The shoulder beneath his hand grows warm. An arm comes around him and lips meet his.

But then he opens his eyes, and all he sees is a stone wall and a snowy, bitter clearing.

Toby wakes, hands clenched and feet cold.


Arms crossed, Toby stands in the storage room, rocking back and forth. Keller killed Ronnie here. That bit of knowledge should bother him, but it doesn't. For that matter, shouldn't it bother him that he's been messing around in the same damn storage room where he'd stabbed Keller and left him for dead? But places in Oz where you can grab a quick fuck aren't that numerous. He's just being practical, right? Oh yes, the ever-practical Tobias Beecher, that's him.

The door opens, and Toby freezes. He doesn't know what to do. Should he turn around and wait for Keller to click off the lights? He no longer knows what the rules are.

Keller closes the door. "Toby."

Toby's chest feels tight and his breathing is labored as Chris walks toward him. He knows this ache—it's what hope feels like.

Chris places a hand on the back of Toby's neck and pulls him in for a kiss, and Toby feels his world right itself with a dizzying rush. When the kiss breaks, Chris drops his head onto Toby's shoulder.

Shudders run through Chris, so he strokes Chris's back until they subside. He takes a deep breath and lets his hands begin to roam, over Keller's ass, down to his thighs, and finally, he places a hand against Keller's crotch. Chris groans and thrusts forward, and Toby smiles. That was definitely an invitation.

In no time, he has Keller's pants undone and his fingers part the slit of boxers. Keller's hot against his palm, hard, and Toby feels his cock stiffen in response. When Keller kisses him, the kiss is anything but controlled. It's desperate and rough, and Toby thinks he may come just from jerking Chris off.

Keller's hand fumbles against Toby's zipper pulling it down, and then Toby feels Keller's hand wrapping around his cock, and oh fuck is that good. It's all too much, touching and being touched, and he comes far too soon. Even as he comes, he keeps stroking Chris, because he knows Chris is close. He can feel it in his thrusts, hear it in his breathing.

"Chris," he whispers against Keller's neck, because now he can.

Keller makes a strangled sound and then he comes, stickiness coating Toby's fingers. When Toby removes his hand, he wipes it off on his pants, but his mouth never leaves Chris's lips.

They can't seem to stop kissing.

Toby knows that part of him is memorizing Keller with his hands and his mouth for that time when they screw it all up and all he'll have left are stone cold memories. But those are worries for another time. Toby's eyes close, and he places his hands on Chris's warm shoulder, grip tight as if he can hold onto the present by sheer will.

Please send feedback to CatHeights.