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written in one sitting just to get the damn idea out of my head.


by Cannibela

Desperate Keller/Beecher? PWP?AU season 7

"Lights out! Happy New Year mutherfuckers!" No don't turn out the lights he begs silently from inside his head, sucking on his dying cigarette as though he's not secretly panicking. He doesn't want to be alone, not tonight. Not in the dark.

"'Bout fuckin time" it's a whisper from behind him as he watches the occupants of Em City settle in for the night. That's right he's not alone here, even if every night he feels as though he is. The darkness outside the pod seems to creep in, in an attempt to suffocate him. But that's been his whole life, always alone, can't trust no one, only yourself.

A hand brushes his shoulder and upper arm, massaging his tattoo before ghosting down to his hand, thick fingers intertwining with his. The fingers give a tug but he doesn't move. "Chris?" That voice behind him, the sweetest voice he's ever heard. For a moment he can't recall why he's missed it so much, he only knows he has. He aches to hear it again. He grinds his cigarette stub into the Plexiglas in front of him before shutting his eyes and turning his head. "Chris. Kiss me?" Lips meet his in a sweet kiss, just lips and only for a moment.

He opens his eyes and looks into baby blues catching the remaining light in Em City, giving them a glow, making them seem like liquid and beneath those dual seas the greatest treasure is shinning just for him. No one else sees this, its all for him. His eyes break contact with those sweet blues and move down, past the adorable unpturned nose, settling on thin lips pulled down in a pout. "Say my name again." He asks and it comes out raw. Those pouty lips turn up a bit and now they are a soft smile.


"Tell me, baby."

"I love you." Those three words are what he needed to hear and they start a fire in his belly. The next kiss isn't soft, it burns all the way down to his toes as he moves them to the back of the pod. His hands find their way into hair the same time his tongue finds its way into the others mouth, seeking its mate. Soft, dark blonde locks tangle around his fingers, He needs to cut his hair.

Suddenly he's not in control anymore and he's being pushed back to sit on the bottom bunk. That sweet mouth leaves his and he's staring up as this magnificent creature pulls off his own shirt and pushes his gray prison trousers down. Nothing underneath. Naked, and suddenly Chris wishes he were too. Scrambling to pull his shirt off He feels weight settle on his lap. "Let me Chris." And then the shirt is up, over and off. Those thick-fingered hands are on his shoulders and those sweet baby blues are looking down at him. Not alone. Not tonight. His hands tangle in blonde curls again and drag that sweet mouth back down to him. Desperate hungry kisses. "I want you. I need you Chris." He nods, presses one hand against those delicious lips and gasps when thin lips part and suck first one finger than two. HE can feel that extra long tongue wrap around his fingers, pushing them in and out.

"Chris, we don't have a lot of time." He knows that but he doesn't want to face it. HE wants to take his time, savor every little moment because for once he has someone he can trust. Someone he loves and someone who loves him back. HE pushes his finger back in that warm mouth for just a second more before finally moving his hand to cup one branded ass cheek, sliding his wet fingers towards the pucker at the center. As he slides his middle finger in the Angel on his lap arches his back and moans, his muscles taught and his m uth open. He slides his free hand up one calf, the blonde hair becoming less as he reaches a soft thigh before wrapping said hand around the others stiff dick, pumping slowly in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

"Uh!" He knows the man on his lap wont last much longer if he keeps up his ministrations and he wants this to last as long as it can. He removes his fingers the same time he takes his hand off the other cock. "No don't stop..."

"Shh.... I got you baby." He quickly undoes his trouser button and rather than pull them down simply pulls his cock out. In a second that beautiful blonde head is bobbing up and down in his lap, that mouth sucking him so perfectly. "Baby stop please..." he can't come yet and if he didn't know better he'd say his baby was trying to suck him inside out.

"Fuck me Chris..." Oh he intends to. Yanking his blonde beauty up off his knees and back onto his lap he wastes no time getting him situated and pulling him down onto his aching cock. Slow, go slow, make it last. He presses kisses to the smooth chest in front of him, moving to mouth a nipple once he's full sheathed inside the blue-eyed Adonis sitting in his lap. He moves slowly at first, subtle rocking motions, waiting for the 'ok' to move faster. "More..." and there it is, and now he's moving as fast as he can, desperate to feel more, mouth open and panting against that solid chest one hand holding a thigh the other settle on the junction of hip and back. Not alone! Not tonight! "Toby! Baby, love you!" He pants against the well-defined chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses wherever he could reach. He's so close and he knows Toby is too, he can hear him gasping and moaning, loud enough one of them is going to end up in the Hole later.

"Chris im gonna come..." Jesus he hasn't even touched Toby's cock! He feels the tremors start in Beecher's arms and legs before he comes with a shout, his tightening muscles pushing Chris over the edge.

"Jesus Toby I love you...love you...love you..." he lifts his head off the heaving chest to look at those pretty blue eyes. Only these eyes are different, too light, too blue. And the smile is wrong, too broad with teeth too white. Chris reaches a hand to touch those smiling lips, too full. Suddenly the body is too skinny, legs too hairless, more like a woman's than a wiry blonde lawyer. Hairs too blonde. This is not his Toby.

"Someday you'll stop calling me that when we fuck. He's been dead for years now." The skinny blonde faggot stands and walks to the sink. Chris watches him, there's no Plexiglas to this cell. He stands, tucks himself back in and walks to the bars at the front of his cell, slipping his arms through them. His eyes fix on his smoldering cigarette on the floor in front of his cell. He's alone. Toby left him.

And now he can't help but remember those baby blues, looking at him first with despair and then with shock. Those hands pushing him away one moment and then scrabbling to hold onto him as he fell. That beautiful mouth against his for a moment and then twisting into a cry of fear as his body went over the upper railing. He hadn't meant for him to go over, why did he have to push him away? Let me live. I can't. BEECHER NO!

"Happy New Year Toby." He whispers into the halls of Oz. Maybe it's because he's so desperate to hear anything but his last conversation with Toby. Maybe he really has lost his mind. Or maybe, just maybe he's not alone. Because for a moment amidst the sounds of men fucking, fighting, gates opening and closing, nightsticks clanging against the bars of the Unit B cells Chris swears he can here,

"Happy New Year Chris."

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