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Written for Oz Magi 2007. Recipient: dustandroses. Chris Keller/Ronnie Barlog.

King Takes Pawn

by Ozsaur

Ronnie was a natural born pussy, which is one of the many reasons Chris had never fucked him before. Sure it would have been fun, but Chris had always had enough whiny bitches in his life, he didn't need a guy like Ronnie panting after him, too.

What he'd had with Ronnie was business with a little flirtation thrown in to smooth the process. Like a lot of his old business partners, Ronnie had interpreted their relationship as friendship and it was in his own best interest to let Ronnie think whatever he wanted.

It would have been good to have a partner like Ronnie in Oz, someone relatively loyal to watch his back. Too bad fucking Beecher had to screw around with Ronnie and mess up a good thing. He wasn't sure he could salvage the partnership.

Ronnie still had other uses, though. He's a decent kisser, his mouth wide and generous. They are yielding kisses, begging kisses, wanting more. Chris gives it to him, slides his tongue into Ronnie's mouth and gives him a hot and nasty demonstration of what his dick was going to do to Ronnie's ass after a while.

When Chris pulls back, Ronnie follows, eyes shut and lips parted. From the corner of his eye, Chris can see their reflection in the mirror over the sink. He catches sight of his own grin as he takes Ronnie by the shoulders and turns him toward the mirror then pushes him down until he is bent over the sink.

Ronnie is so damn easy, it's almost boring, but Chris knows how to liven things up. He buries his fingers in the velvety nap at the back of Ronnie's head, pulling him up so he can stare at himself in the mirror. Chris can see himself over Ronnie's shoulder, but he keeps his eyes on Ronnie's face.

"Look at yourself. You want it. Say you want it."

"Chris-- " he whispers, then winces as Chris tightens his hand in Ronnie's hair.

"Say you want it, Ronnie."

Just like Chris expected, Ronnie's face goes red and his lips soften as if for another kiss. "I want it, Chris. I want you."

Chris loosens his grip on Ronnie's hair and pets him. "That's good, Ronnie, 'cause I'm going to give you what you want. You just have to ask for it."

"Please, Chris."

Yeah, he wanted it, all right. It had hardly taken any persuasion at all to get Ronnie out of the gym and into the bathroom. Just a smirk and a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow and Ronnie had followed right at his heels like a trained dog.

On the outside, he never would have picked Ronnie for anything but the easiest cons. In Oz, and under the circumstances, it was a damn good idea. If he worked this right, he'd have a good enough partner to watch his back, a sweet fuck, and a way to teach Beecher who was the better game player around here.

He looked down at Ronnie's denim clad ass and ran his palm over each cheek then down between his legs to cup his balls. Ronnie shuddered, lowered his head until Chris gripped his shoulder hard with his left hand while giving a warning squeeze to his balls with his right.

"Look up, Ronnie. Look in the mirror. Look at me."

Ronnie lifted pleasure hazed eyes to the mirror, meeting Chris's gaze.

"Don't take your eyes off me, Ronnie. No matter what."

"God, Chris."

"Keep your hands on the sink, don't move them."

Chris could see the muscles in Ronnie's arms flex as he tightened his hold on the white porcelain sink. He was a good looking man, broad shoulders, thickly muscled chest, long legs. He had a nice ass too, better than Beecher's, and he didn't have any problems taking it from behind. This wasn't going to be a chore at all. Not at all.

Chris kept one hand on Ronnie's shoulder while he moved the other around to the front of Ronnie's pants. He ignored the soft noise Ronnie made as he passed his hand over Ronnie's hard-on and quickly got his pants opened. A few efficient moves later, he had Ronnie's pants and underwear down far enough that he could use his foot to shove them all the way down to his ankles. He then tapped his foot on the inside of Ronnie's calves, making him spread his legs as far as his clothes would let him.

Ronnie was still watching him, so Chris smiled and patted his ass.

"I'm going to make this good for you, Ronnie."

It had been a while since Chris had routinely carried a small bottle of hand lotion around with him, not since he'd stopped fucking Beecher, but he had known he was going to have to do something about Ronnie. He pulled the bottle out of the back pocket of his jeans and flipped the plastic lid up with his thumb. This stuff was more greasy than creamy, one of the reasons it had cost him a pack of cigarettes. No one around here actually used hand cream for their hands, except the fags, and Chris wasn't about to turn over a whole carton of cigarettes to some faggot for some real lube.

Chris squirted a thick glob of it at the top of Ronnie's ass crack. He closed the lid and put the tube back into his pocket, he didn't want to lose track of it, the shit was expensive. He quickly undid his own pants, sighing in relief as his hard-on was released from confinement.

Ronnie shifted under him. "Cold," he said.

"Don't worry, I'll warm you up." Christ, he couldn't count the number of times he had used that cheesy old line. It worked every time, too.

Chris dragged one finger through the lotion, getting it nice and slick, then moved it down the crack of Ronnie's ass until he felt the crinkled opening. He circled the opening a few times with the tip of his finger then pushed in. Ronnie gasped, pushed back, taking more of his finger.

Even if he wanted to be extra careful, he didn't have the time. All he needed was for some hack to come in to take a piss and catch them fucking around. Ronnie was damn hot for it anyway.

Working his finger in and out, Chris checked on Ronnie and saw that his mouth was hanging partly open and his eyes were almost completely shut. Christ, dumb fuck couldn't even follow a simple order. Chris yanked his finger out and slapped Ronnie hard on the ass.

"God damn, Chris! What was that for?"

"Do you want this or not?" He shoved his finger back in, hard.

"Ow! Yes, I want it! Fuck!"

"That's right, Ronnie. Fuck. You want me to fuck you, you better pay attention."

"I was! Damn!"

"Then look at me. Keep your fucking eyes open."

"Okay, okay. Fuck, Chris!"

He gave Ronnie one last look in the mirror, making sure he got the message, then pulled his finger out. Gathering more of the lotion, he went back in with two fingers. Ronnie took it, biting his lips to keep from moaning too loud. But he never took his eyes off Chris.

Ronnie was tight, but took two fingers easy enough. There wasn't enough time to do much more. Chris scooped up the last of the lotion and slicked his dick. Lining himself up, he began to work his way in, letting his dick stretch Ronnie the rest of the way open.

"Chris," Ronnie groaned.

He kept one hand on Ronnie's shoulder, the other on his hip holding him steady. Suddenly, he realized just how long it had been since he'd fucked somebody, then he remembered exactly who his last fuck had been. Anger, always at a low simmer, burst through him. Chris slammed the rest of the way in, making Ronnie grunt in surprise. Ronnie was strong enough to hold steady under the force of the thrust, but Chris decided to change the rules of the game. He didn't want Ronnie staring at him any more.

Shifting his grip from Ronnie's shoulder to the nape of his neck, Chris shoved him forward. Ronnie whimpered a protest, and turned his face so his cheek was pressed against the cool glass of the mirror instead of getting his nosed mashed into it. Chris held him there for a long minute, making sure he got the message to not move away.

As soon as Ronnie went still, Chris moved both hands to Ronnie's hips and dug his fingers in. Above Ronnie's head, he caught sight of his own reflection and scowled. Looking into his own eyes, he began to fuck Ronnie hard.

Ronnie grunted with every thrust, his warm breath misting the surface of the mirror. He still gripped the sink, but his shoulder and face took the brunt of each thrust. Chris moved at a fast pace, flesh slapping loudly against flesh, not caring if he had the right angle to please Ronnie.

Chris didn't care about the time or about getting caught. Fuck the hacks, fuck Ronnie and fuck that cunt Beecher. He leaned back, letting his arms and hips do all the work.

He could hear Ronnie, smell him, feel him, but it didn't mean a damn thing. He might as well have been fucking his own hand, and that pissed him off even more. His reflection became a blur as he focused on getting himself off, barely noticing the spasms around his dick as Ronnie shot his load. It wasn't enough. Chris moved one hand to the mirror, pressed his chest to Ronnie's back, and let Ronnie take more of his weight.

Ronnie tried to say something but it came out a slurred mumble. Maybe he wanted it to be over or maybe he was urging Chris on, it was hard to tell. It didn't matter either way. The last few thrusts were brutal, but they did the trick. Orgasm was more relief than pleasure, a white-out leaving him blank and clean. The feeling didn't last long. It never did.

He came to himself with Ronnie squirming under him. "Chris, man, c'mon."

Chris peeled himself off of Ronnie's back, moved to the side so he could lean against the wall. He smirked when he saw that Ronnie was still shaky enough that he had to hold onto the sink with one hand while he bent over to pull up his pants with the other. When Ronnie straightened up he looked over at Chris and gave him a stupid grin. Then he leaned over and kissed Chris right on the mouth.

The impulse to shove him off was almost overwhelming, but Ronnie turned away to start cleaning up before Chris could do anything stupid. He wasn't in the mood for any more kissing. Ronnie was soon too busy running water and using wet paper towels to wipe off his dick and ass to want to keep fooling around.

Quickly, Chris cleaned up.

"Jesus, Chris." Ronnie shook his head at his reflection. His cheek and jaw were bright red from being mashed against the mirror. There were a few tiny bruises on the sides of his neck and Chris didn't doubt that there were probably bruises under his jeans too. "Got kind of rough, man."

"You complaining?"

"Nah," Ronnie grinned, "I don't have a problem with getting a little rough."

Ronnie leaned over as if to kiss him again, but Chris moved over to the door and pretended not to notice.

"Listen, Ronnie, we're partners, right?"

"Yeah, we've been partners a long time. Doesn't matter that we haven't seen each other in a while. We work good together."

"We do. But Ronnie, partners are loyal, they stick together. They can't let anyone get between them."

"I don't see anyone between us, Chris."

"What about Beecher?"

Ronnie's brows came together. "What about him?"

Chris tried not to sigh. "If you're my partner, I don't want you messing around with him."

"So this ain't a one time thing?"

Chris smiled his best smile, the one that promised everything, the nastier the better. "This is an as many times as you want thing."

When Ronnie kissed him, Chris didn't merely let him. He kissed back. Chris made it good, but had a hard time hiding his impatience. Someone was going to walk in soon. He needed to get Ronnie squared away before he could leave.

Ronnie broke the kiss, looking very pleased.

"We got an understanding?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, partners all the way."

Smiling, Chris gave Ronnie a quick peck on the mouth, then opened the door. As Ronnie walked out the door ahead of Chris, the smile turned into a smirk. His plans were working out better than expected. He had a new partner and fuck buddy, and he had definitely won this round against Beecher.


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