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This is seriously darkfic (psychologically dark), goes into the very disturbing sides of Beecher and Keller's characters.
POV shifts occur throughout the piece. Switches from first to third person, pops into different characters heads as you read along.
This is set some fantastical time in Season 4, that never really happened. Spoilers may be present through season 4.


The Brutal Part of Manipulation

by h0rcrux no7


Rating: NC-17
Word Count: A little over 6,000
Warnings: Explicit non-con (m/m rape), violence, darkfic.
Pairings: Beecher/Keller, Keller/O'Reily (nc), Beecher/Keller/O'Reily (nc), O'Reily/Nathan (one-sided, mentioned)
Other Characters: Busmalis, Cyril O'Reily

"So there was no man before me? Not even a little crush? Not a little urge? Nothing?"

Keller's needling him again, and it burns Toby's brain. Burns him out, pisses him off, frustrates him and makes him feel mocked. And he's tired of that annoying weight that settles on his shoulders when he thinks about the way he looks like a pathetic virgin next to Keller's amoral escapades. So this time he shrugs.

"Maybe an urge. Here or there. A crush," he says, walking along the window, and casting his eyes out furtively across Em City. Gotta get out of this cell. The lockdown is driving them both to distraction. They can only get each other off so many times, before Toby KNOWS the fucking will go back to fighting. And he really doesn't want that.

"A crush?" Keller says, and he grins madly, a sharp dissonance with the predatory look in his eyes. Oh, shit.

"Sort of, no, not really," Toby says, turning around, knowing, just KNOWING that if he keeps looking out the window his eyes will betray him, his brain will betray him, and he'll show Keller exactly who he had a crush on. And that would end badly for far too many people. So Toby casts his eyes down to Chris's feet. He's got a hole in the toe of one sock, and he rocks back on his heels every few milliseconds. Too much energy, too wound up, and far too caged, that's Chris Keller right now. Very, very fucking dangerous.

"Tell me," Keller says, with that strange, twitch of his head, when his chin tilts up for a millisecond, just for emphasis.

"It's not worth talking about, Chris," Toby says, moving closer, pushing his chest against Chris's. Distract him with sex. He knows it won't work.

It doesn't.

"You're gonna fuckin' tell me, Toby," Chris breathes, hot, right into his ear. "One way or another."

Keller's proclamation is threatening, and it's hot, and Toby also knows it's very true. "When I first got in here, and he was giving me drugs so I could put up with all Vern's bullshit-"

"O'REILY?" Keller interrupts, and Beecher just half shrugs, turns, looks out the window and into the O'Reily brothers' pod, might as well gaze, now that he's been made. Ryan's pacing, and Cyril's napping.

"Ryan fuckin' O'Reily, Jesus, Toby," Chris says, half laughing. "Mister `I'm no fag' himself."

"Well, neither was I," Beecher says, sharply, turning back around to face Keller. "I didn't even realize, at the time, that that was what I wanted. I didn't jerk off to him, dream about him, none of that shit. But I think I did sort of want him."

"And now?" Keller asks, spinning Toby back around so they can both stare out at Ryan O'Reily, pacing his pod.

"Fuck, no, what am I gonna do with him?" Beecher says, laughing, "You said it yourself, he's no fag. Nothing doing there. And obviously," he says, leaning back against Chris's rock-hard chest, "I've moved on."

"Yeah, but," Keller says, running his hand slowly up Toby's ribs, just sliding along his shirt, "your first boy crush. Means something."

And it wasn't me, Keller's brain screams at him. Fuck.

"Means nothing, Chris," Toby insists.

"He is hot," Keller breathes into his ear again, encouraging him.

Toby doesn't respond, because he knows there's just no right answer here.

"I'd fuck him," Keller adds, squeezing Toby's ass, then pulling his hips back toward him so he can press his erection tight to Toby.

It makes Toby's stomach drop because he knows Ryan would hate that. And while he and Ryan haven't been... friends, or whatever they'd been, in a long time... he didn't want to see Chris fuck O'Reily. Not in anyway.

Never mind how hot it would be, Ryan's long, thin body stretched out, Ryan nervous, scared... wanting it.

NO. Toby tells himself, strongly. Ryan would hate it and that would be rape, and that isn't hot. It's not.

Ryan struggling in Chris's arms. Toby watching. No, not just watching. Finding Ryan, as he's being broken, kneeling by his side. Comforting him.

Fuck.

Toby tries to tell himself he's half-hard because of Chris, Chris's dick pressed against his ass, promising everything after lights out, but he can't lie to himself. He wonders when he became such a monster that thinking Chris Keller raping Ryan O'Reily would be hot. No, not just hot. Molten. Only thing hotter would be if Ryan wanted it. Oh, god, he'd be so beautiful, so overwhelmed...

"You like that idea, huh, Toby?" Chris whispers, and Toby, hating himself all the time, admits it.

"Yes," he whispers.

"What?" Chris asks, nipping Toby's ear, "What was that?"

"Yes," Toby growls, spinning around so he can press his dick against Keller's. "Yes, I like that idea."

"You wanna see it, baby?" Keller says, nodding over Toby's shoulder, up at O'Reily's cell,

"Wanna see me fuck that Mick? Wanna be there when he takes my cock in that virgin ass of his? Want him when I'm through?"

And Toby could kiss Ryan, and wipe his tears away, suck his dick, make him feel oh-so-good. Make him forget all about how much it all hurt, because now it would feel so good, oh, God, please no, don't make me think like this...

Hating himself all the time, Toby nods into Chris's neck, and then fucking Murphy comes by and raps hard on their window with his nightstick, and they pull apart, Chris lewdly grabbing himself, fisting his dick at the Mick-guard while Toby gives a short laugh.

--

Later, Toby can't sleep. He can't stop hating himself. So he says, aloud, hoping Chris is still up,

"It's just a fantasy, right Chris? O'Reily is too dangerous. Not worth the risk."

"Of course, baby," Chris assures him, and Toby can't help but think it's in that teasingly false tone his.

--

Now, the whole thing has Keller's mind on fire. Yes, drag Toby down with him. Turn him into the same piece of shit he is, he thinks. And get to fuck a tight, uptight little ass in the process. Could anything be hotter? And Toby, Toby is almost all the way there. He wants it, he just can't admit he wants it. And Keller loves that. Loves that, and loves Toby. Loves him more passionately than he ever knew he could.

A fantasy, huh? Fuck that.

--

"Ryan," Cyril says, quietly.

"Shut up and go to sleep, Cyril," O'Reily responds predictably. FUCK. It's hard enough to sleep, hard enough to shut down and turn off his mind, without having to play twenty-fucking-questions, twenty-fuckin'-four-seven with a perpetual five-year-old.

"Ryan," Cyril says again, more urgently, "it's impawdent."

"Yeah, and sleep is important too, so shut the fuck up and get some, Cyril," Ryan commands, half-whining. Jesus fucking Christ.

"Okay, Ryan," Cyril says quietly, but he can't help but glance nervously out of the pod, one more time before lying back down.

--

Shit, fucking shit. Keller, K-boy. K-boy. Watching me. Fuck.

He's been watching me, not Cyril, no not Cyril, don't hafta worry there because I think Cyril's safe from this shit now.

Whatever shit this is.

Whatever the fuck Keller's got goin' on.

Fuck. K-boy. Gotta watch out. Watch my back. Watch Cyril's back too, because Jesus fuckin' Christ, that's what I do.

Every goddamn day and night. Fuck. What the fuck, Keller? Take a fuckin' picture it'll last longer.

Fucking faggot. Fucking pervert. Go fuck Beecher. Goddamn, K-boy.

--

There's cards and then there's cards. There's cards, when you're playing to while away the hours that you're locked up, and there's cards you play for money, and there's cards you play to find out what the fuck your opponent is thinking. And now, they're all around the table, and Busmalis keeps shifting nervously from side to side, because he's wiling away the damn hours... while Beecher, Keller and O'Reily aren't in it to pass the time. They're gauging each other, each of them, on edge. It makes Agamemnon nervous. Makes him think he better go find Bob... or, oh, how could he have forgotten? Miss Sally's on.

"I'm out. I'm gonna go watch Miss Sally with Cyril," Busmalis says, shoving his cards on the table. None of the other three even acknowledge he's leaving. Phew, another near miss, Agamemnon thinks, but he excuses himself for forgetting that Miss Sally's coming on. After all, it's easy to forget about puppets and boobs, when you're playing a game with three men who are mentally unstable at best and gratuitously violent at worst.

--

"Cyril," Ryan says, finally, when their alone in their pod. "Have you heard Beecher and Keller talking about anything lately?"

Cyril seems to consider, and Ryan swings his long thin legs over the top bunk, and drops down effortlessly beside his brother.

"No. But..." Cyril looks helplessly out of the pod, "Keller is a bad man."

"Yeah, I know Cyril," Ryan says, scrunching his face up. This again. Always this. Goddamn Cyril and his bad men. "He's a real bad man, buddy," Ryan admits, putting on his sweet-talker voice. Sometimes he hates himself for manipulating his slow brother, but that's only in the moments when he's not trying to fucking survive, "so, do you know what he's up to?"

"No," Cyril says. "He's quiet."

Which is just fucking right, Ryan thinks. Keller's been quiet, even for Keller, and Beecher's been... well, he's looking half insane again, if Ryan's perfectly honest with himself. Beecher's been looking guilty as fuck, when Ryan's pretty sure he hasn't done shit recently. Ryan prides himself on knowing what's been going on, and he hasn't heard shit about Beech. Fuck. That means he's already feeling guilty, about something he hasn't done.

Ryan pats Cyril on the back, tucks him in, and launches himself back to his bunk.

Keller's fucking hunting me, stalking me, waiting to pounce and Beecher is looking fucking guilty.

Shit.

--

Gotta be now, Keller realizes. He's good at timing, always has been. Timing is delicious. Seduction is a good game, but it's an easy game, just a form of manipulation. This is a game of creating fear, a part of manipulation of course, but only the most brutal part.

And Chris likes brutal. Oh, he likes pretty, and he likes love, but he craves the visceral. The tearing, ripping, shredding, and destruction. The bringing down, dragging down, into delicious ruin. The moment when everything comes together, and the moment just after that, when everything is destroyed.

--

Toby has to watch, but can't watch, so he looks everywhere but at Keller and O'Reily. He finds himself oddly distracted by the littlest things. Escapism. Looking for a way out, but that's his way.

He has always been too smart, too trapped, and he's never been able to escape. He doesn't need a shrink to tell him that. Every single goddamn day of his life, he has known that. Being trapped in prison is a lot different from being trapped outside of it, but in the end, he's still trapped by his mind.

That steel trap, that has worked so well for him, but that has also destroyed him.

Thoughts of philosophy, of religion, and of ethics plague him, and those thoughts will never go away, and he can't be free of them, so why the fuck bother trying? Everyone else takes what they want, ethics be damned, guilt be damned. What are ethics and guilt but man-made creations? And where will they leave him when god deserts him? Why bother trying to do the right thing, when the wrong thing is here and it's so easy and it looks like it's going to be so goddamn gratifying?

He hates those thoughts. They are not the thoughts of a good man. He knows, sort of half-realizes it, that they're the normal thoughts for someone brilliant, someone too smart to ever stop questioning.

Toby ends up shrugging, sighing, putting his head in his hands and rubbing his forehead and half-crying, because there's no end to the cycle of guilt, and shame and questioning. He craves irrationality, and Keller gives him that. He needs to escape the questioning. Needs to go with feeling. Needs Chris so he can feel.

--

Gotta confront him because there's no other way. PC? Not an option. Running to McManus never is. Can't count on a bodyguard, can never do that. They can be bribed, bought and turned away, or Ryan would never have found them in the first place.

Gotta confront Keller. Gotta come with a shank. Gotta keep Cyril out of the way, keep him safe, keep him far away. Be ready to kill, get your hands dirty. Kill Keller if you have to, but he's shit, he's trash. Dangerous fuckin' trash.

Gotta be ready to kill Beecher.

And that'd be a damn shame, fuckin' Beecher, fuckin' crazy-ass-law-boy. I liked you one time. Now a fag, and a pervert. Yeah maybe, maybe I coulda fuckin' done something, about Schillinger. Something besides the drugs. But what the fuck could I have done? Had to survive, still gotta survive.

So if you gotta go, Lawboy, you gotta go. See ya. Bye-bye.

--

"Toby," Chris says one day, dragging the back of his hand up along Beecher's back. "Come on, rec time."

Toby's stomach turns somersaults because he knows, just knows, that now's the time, Chris is after Ryan.

God, how are we going to get away with this? Oh, god, please don't. Let us get caught because then it's not my choice, not my fucking choice. Don't make me do this Chris, don't ask me to follow you, because I have to, I fucking have to. I gotta watch your back, make sure you don't get a shank in it.

And I have to watch...

Shit, O'Reily's right there. Lookin' at Keller, lookin' at me. And why doesn't he look scared? He's waiting for us. Thinks this is all his idea. Is it? Oh, fuck. Who manipulates better, Chris or Ryan?

Fuck. Oh, fuck me. God forgive me.

The gym is deserted, fucking deserted like it always is. No cameras, and no one will ever fucking know why. Damn fucking prisoners, can't care enough about them to install the cameras.

Are we heading to the basketball court? No, through the doors. Oh, down the hall. To the stairs. That's going to be the setting then, is it? Oh, why am I here? I need to go, let them destroy each other. I should go.

I'm leaving.

"Toby," Chris says. He puts his fuckin' hand in mine. Holding hands. Does he think this is romantic? Fuck. O'Reily's next to us, following along, fucking whistling some dumb fuck Irish tune. Tu ra lu.

And then we turn the corner and we see Cyril, and Ryan and I fucking lose it.

--

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'd tried to so hard to get Cyril out of the way. Fuck, not fucking fast enough, Ryan. Fuck you Cyril, so fucking trusting. Well, not for long. You're not gonna be anything for long, kid brother, because I've fucking failed you for the last goddamn time. Shit.

How the fuck am I gonna get out of this?

Shit. What did I even fucking do?

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Shit. Keller. You fuckin' piece of shit, you let my fucking brother go, NOW!"

And I fucking go for the throat, because if I die, trying to save Cyril will be the last fuckin' thing I do.

--

So he didn't wanna get the retard involved, but the dumb fucking kid had to be out of the way somehow. And this was just too easy for Keller, just too perfect. Poor Cyril. He kinda deserved better than this, but fuckin' O'Reily is right. I am a piece of shit.

--

And though Cyril is still on ground, Toby can see his chest rise and fall, and knows the man is breathing, and suddenly he can draw his own breath again.

"Oh, God," Toby whispers, and Chris looks at him, eyes dark, wide and lustful. He's going really, way too fucking far this time. You don't hurt the innocent around Toby. And the O'Reily brothers, well, Ryan is a dick, a sociopathic dick, but Cyril...

Ryan lunges at Chris, but Chris deflects him easily. Way too easily. He was ready, waiting. Toby is dying inside for Ryan, because even with passion and goodness, and righteousness on his side, he's no match for Keller's brutal, impersonal strength. Another tick mark in the "life's not fair" column.

Ryan hits the wall hard, but not hard enough to stop him, so he's scrabbling at his pants, reaching for his weapon. But Chris is so fucking fast with his shank, has it to Ryan's throat so quickly, that Ryan stops and stills. Stills even more as Toby joins in at Chris's side, looking lost, murderous and frightened all at once.

"Chris, what the fuck?" Toby demands, breathlessly, even as he's helping Keller tie O'Reily, throwing the shank away. This is fucked. Never been so far on this side of wrong...

"I decided I wanted our Mick-fuck friend over here to cooperate. And nothing makes him cooperate like seein' his baby brother all trussed up, knocked out and ready to be fucked."

Cyril's pants are around his ankles, and his ass is exposed. Toby refuses to look there. Refuses to see what Keller did. Oh, god, he hopes Chris didn't touch him. That's too fucking much, even Chris's beautiful hands, even on Cyril's soft, pale skin, THAT is too fucking much, too bad... too much for Toby.

And while he's been thinking, Toby realizes Chris has been moving. He's got Ryan pinned very, very effectively.

"You got a choice, O'Reily," Keller says, "I fuck you, or I fuck your brother."

--

Jesus, this is going to shit, Beecher thinks to himself, still holding O'Reily down, though O'Reily isn't struggling so much as he's thinking right now. Beecher can see those wheels turning. He's fucking impressed. Even with death, pain and ruin a second away, O'Reily is still working.

--

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Somehow not what I thought. Didn't think fucking, `cause I can't think like a fuckin' pervert faggot. What the fuck? Everyone is either gonna fuck me or Cyril now, is that it? Jesus, fucking CHRIST, first Howell now Keller, what the fuck is this?

Beecher's not down for this I know he isn't, well, maybe he'd hurt me, but Cyril? Jesus, fuck no. But he's not gonna let Keller get hurt either so I gotta watch them both real careful. Gotta play this right. Gotta let `em think I'll just let `em get away with it, if they just fuckin' let us go.

--

"Hey, hey, K-boy," O'Reily says, pasting a half-smile on his face, "we can work this out. It doesn't gotta go down this way."

"Yeah?" Keller grins huge, down at O'Reily and Beecher can almost see the bullshit and lies that vibrate between them. "I think it's gonna go down this way, O'Reily, because right now you're not in any position to bargain. I fuck you or I fuck Cyril. Pick and choose, either way I'm getting' my dick someplace tight and warm."

"Chris-" Toby starts, but Keller glares at him and Beecher shuts up, shuts up and sits back and watches, just like Chris wants him to do.

"You're a real sick fuck, Keller," O'Reily says, and his voice is dark and growly.

"I know," Keller says, moving his head down closer to O'Reily, putting his lips just at Ryan's hairline, whispering against his forehead.

--

Beecher won't stand for it. That's my out. Keller's in, all in. Doesn't care if he gets caught, doesn't care if we live or die, doesn't care who he fucks. Keller is garbage, dangerous fucking garbage. He's shit.

Beecher cares though, even when he tries to turn it off. He can't.

"Fine," I say, and I hate myself the whole fucking time, because if I play this wrong, I'll never forgive myself. "Fuck Cyril."

--

Throwing his slow, kid brother under the bus? It's somehow sweet. Love that. I'll always know he said that. I'll strangle my dick at night thinking of Ryan O'Reily selling out Cyril O'Reily to save his own virgin ass.

Of course, Toby won't go for it, won't want me fucking Cyril, and fucking Ryan knows, so he played this right. Just fucking right. Just like I knew he would. Too bad I was just fucking with him.

"Toby," I say, quietly. "Get Cyril out of here."

"What?"

"Put his fuckin' pants back on him, and put him in the gym. Untie him. He won't remember it was me who knocked him out."

--

Shit, what the fuck, Keller? Shit. I fuckin' lose again, lose hard. Needed Keller to play his monster card, so Beecher could play his good guy card. Lost that hand. But Cyril will be safe. Beecher's gonna see to that. Fuck.

Why did Keller have him here anyway?

Fuck. He played me. Checkmate. I lose. Shit.

--

Toby drags Cyril out, and it's difficult. He doesn't have the upper body strength that Chris does, but the exhilaration of not getting caught, the NEED to get Cyril somewhere where he can be relatively safe, somewhere away from Chris Keller's psychotic, manipulative hands, drives him forward.

Somehow, Keller's getting Toby exactly what Toby wants. They've got O'Reily tied, and in private. They've got Cyril out of the way. Keller's gonna destroy Ryan, and Toby will be able to try to pick up the pieces. It's really fucking happening.

Toby puts Cyril gently, gently in the gym. Hides him. Smooths his hair back from his face. Whispers an apology, because he's not nave enough to think he can hurt Ryan without hurting Cyril.

--

"Why?" O'Reily asks, as Keller pushes up the thin, clinging material of his undershirt. "Why the fuck are you doing this, Keller? Why me?"

Keller shrugs, "Ask Toby," he says, putting his lips on Ryan's neck and sucking and biting hard. Ryan jerks back, trying to get away. For the first time, Ryan seems to fully realize the situation. Realize that he's tied arms ove head, laid out, like a fuckin' buffet for Keller. And they're alone. No Beecher to get between his ass and Keller's insanity.

Keller's unzipping his fly, then pulling Ryan's pants down. He doesn't know, should he wait for Toby? He can't wait. Ryan looks so damn good. It's such a fucking bonus. This is for Toby, but Ryan is so fucking sexy, especially his voice, his low, desperate, threatening voice. Chris hopes he'll talk while he's being fucked.

"Toby doesn' t want me to hurt you too much," Chris says, licking up along Ryan's sweat soaked neck, curling his tongue behind his ear, "He wants you to like it. You might. You're not fighting too hard."

"Fuck you," Ryan spits up at him, "I ain't no fag."

"My dick up your ass says otherwise," Keller says, laughing, and exposing himself to Ryan.

"Shit," Ryan says, struggling hopelessly against the bonds holding his hands and legs.

"You're pretty when you panic," Keller says, pulling Ryan's pants all the way down to his ankles, exposing long, lean legs, forcing pale skin onto hard concrete. It was Keller's idea to tie him like this, so he's lying on his side. Oh, he could fuck him harder if he had him on his hands and knees, but this way, this way it won't hurt O'Reily as much, and that's what Toby wants. This is how Chris has wrapped Toby's present.

"Fuck, Keller, c'mon. You don't want me as your enemy... and I don't wanna have to fucking kill you. You ain't worth death row. So get the fuck off of me, untie me and just fucking go."

"Funny," Keller says, "Now... shhhhhh." He lays down next to O'Reily. Toby's not here yet, but Chris's dick is out, and it's hard, and O'Reily is ready to go.

"It won't hurt as much as you think it will," Keller promises. "I'm making it good for you. Got lube and everything."

--

This is the best part. Pushing your dick in, waiting for that pop, that give, when the muscles finally relax enough to let your cock allll the fuckin' way inside. Oh. Fuck.

Ryan is Toby's first crush. And Keller is Toby's first man. So fucking perfect. Beecher and Keller and O'Reily, linked. Whatever happened between Beecher and O'Reily has been spoiled by Keller now. Fucking perfect.

He pushes hard, but not uncontrolled. Ryan is tight, oh so fucking tight, but there's so much lube and Chris is so damn rock hard and strong that Ryan's body gives in and gives him access.

--

Dear god, please, Jesus. I know I fucked up, but please don't let him fuck me, don't let him rape me, not this. How can I protect Gloria? How can I protect Cyril? How can I protect them if I'm getting fucked, too.

Fuck.

Won't give him fuckin satisfaction of-

"SHIT"

Ruined. I'm done. He's in. Hurts every fucking bit as much as I thought it would.

"Stop, fuck, stop it," I think that's my voice, but I don't know, because-

"Pleeeeeeeeease."

FUCK. I won't say that again. Not. fucking. ever. Bite your tongue Ryan. Shut up and take it. Take it like you take a beating. You can do this. Survive.

--

Ohhhh, fuck, yes! He is so tight and it's so good. Stupid Mick-fuck, can't shut those whore lips of his as I fuck his ass, so fuckin' hard. Can't be too easy on him, after all, or there won't be any pieces for Toby to pick up.

Fuck. Toby. There he is. I lock eyes with him as I fuck his puppy-love crush. Yeah, just fuckin' perfect Toby. You look so good, baby. So sad, so fuckin' turned on. Yeah.

"C'mere, Toby," I call to him, but he doesn't move. "Toby."

And when it's a command he follows.

--

Ryan was my escape, my salvation, the only thing I had away from Vern, and here's Keller, my love, my lover, destroying him. I can hear Ryan beg, just one long, drawn out 'please', and I want to cry. He doesn't fucking deserve this, doesn't deserve to be made so weak when he's so tough and so strong. No, being a victim like that is for guys like me, not guys like him.

He looks so hurt, trying to curl in on himself, trying to cover himself, desperately trying to get away from Chris as Chris holds him tighter.

And then the smell of sweat, and the sight of the sex, and the power and pain it all hits me at once, and suddenly, things aren't so clear anymore. Ryan is beautiful, just fucking beautiful, and my heart is beating so fast, and I feel light as a feather.

When Chris calls me over, I move faster than I thought I could, feeling weightless. Is this me? Shit, look at Chris, god, watch his muscles, down along his back, moving under his skin while he thrusts. Look at Ryan, eyes squeezed shut in pain, lips pursed tight together, still fighting, still refusing to make a sound even as Chris breaks him.

I can see he's breaking, I can see he's cracking, even though he fights it so hard. I look at Chris, have to look at him, and then we're kissing. I'm kissing him as he's thrusting hard into Ryan, and my dick springs to life. This is so fucked up and so fucking perfect.

--

Fuck. I'll fucking kill you both. Faggots, perverts.

Oh, God. Stop. Wanna pass out. Wanna die. Wanna get the fuck away.

Hurts less. Just barely. Still can't hardly breathe. Stop breathing, yeah. Yeah. That will do it.

Hold my breath.

See the blue spots. Getting bigger. It's getting warmer. Getting closer.

Oh, so fucking soon and I'll be out. Wake up when its over maybe. Wanna breathe, no. Don't breathe, don't.

--

Everything is just perfect fucking ruin, and then O'Reily goes limp underneath me. Shit. Motherfucker. Passed out. I didn't hurt him, he ain't bleedin' that hard, fuck, what the fuck? Toby hasn't noticed yet though, so if I just close my eyes and,

"Oh, Toby," I moan into Beecher's mouth, and then I'm coming, spilling my load inside O'Reily, digging my fingers into his hips and crushing his limp body back against me.

--

Chris pulls out and I see Ryan has stopped struggling. Completely.

"Ryan?" I ask, quietly, shocked by my hoarseness.

"He's out, Tob," Keller says. "I think he passed out. I didn't hit him or nothin'. Don't know what happened."

"Fuck," I whisper and lean over Ryan. He looks like he's sleeping, his eyes are closed and he looks so peaceful, even as he's sweat soaked, even with his lower lip trickling blood from the corner.

"This is just for you, Tob," Chris says, pulling his pants up, looking down at Ryan's prone form.

"I know," I whisper. I love it and I hate it, as much as I've hated my biggest fuck-ups. I smooth my fingers over Ryan's hair. I like how wiry it is. I move my hand down his body, the way he'd never let me. I kiss his neck, softly and sweetly. I put my hand over his cock and balls and rub and squeeze gently. He's just so pretty.

Chris moves to the door. I know he's watching me, as much as he's now guarding the stairwell. I feel loved, more than loved, and protected. At the same time, i feel lower than fucking dirt.

Ryan stirs, he's coming to.

--

It's over. Shouldn't it hurt more? Fuck, not alone. Beecher. Beecher touching me. Filthy. Wanna pass back out. Shit. What the fuck? I think I hate him more than Keller.

Oh, fuck. Hand on my dick.

"Get the fuck off me, Beecher." Wanted to sound threatening.

--

His words are harsh, but his tone is tired. We're wearing him down. How could he not wear down?

--

"I'm sorry, Ryan," I whisper softly in his ear. "I'm just so sorry."

This is the edge of insanity again. I can feel it fluttering inside of me. But this time I won't fall all the way in, because I have Chris. And Chris knows this isn't crazy. It's just what I want.

I rub and pull gently at Ryan's dick, and he doesn't respond. He's so still, but not limp. Tense. I step over him, lay down next to him, and start to put my mouth on him.

--

"Beecher, no," Ryan moans, tries to get away. "Leave me alone."

"Leave you here, laid out like this for everyone to see?" Keller calls from across the stairs, "There's plenty of guys you don't want to find you like this. Toby is a better choice."

"FUCK YOU," Ryan manages to yell, finally back to angry.

"C'mon, Tob," Keller says, laughing, "We'll just leave him here. I'll find Hoyt and Robson and tell them we have a little present for them on the stairwell."

"Jesus, fuck, no," Ryan moans, twitches, and pulls again at the bonds holding him down. Keller crosses over to them. "Then ask Toby nicely to stay," he says, kneeling down by O'Reily's side.

"I..." Ryan can't seem to find the words. He shakes his head hard. He's in full blown panic mode. Beecher wants to cry.

"Fucking. Say it." Keller demands, pulling hard on Ryan's short hair.

"I can't," Ryan whimpers, finally broken. "I can't."

"Shhhhhh," Toby shushes, all sweet and gentle. Chris is so proud of him. "It's okay, Ryan, you don't have to ask. I know."

And then Toby takes Ryan's dick in his mouth and sucks.

--

Oh, Jesus, Tob. You look so good sucking dick. Oh, fuck yeah. Lips wrapped around my cock, that's the best, Keller thinks, but watching is- Had to see this. Looks like an angel. Love the way he closes his eyes when he sucks. Oh, fuck, yeah, you're good Toby. Now O'Reily will know what he missed.

--

Gloria. Please. Cyril. Someone.

Help me. Help me.

--

Ryan is getting hard in my mouth, and I'm so fucking relieved. Some guys' dicks won't work if their brains aren't in it. I'm not one of those guys. Neither is O'Reily. I had to get fucking half-hard everytime Vern pounded me, so it's only fair that Ryan has to get hard, too. Because, as much as I liked him, he never fucking helped me. And so I'm paying him back now. Hurting him and helping him all at once.

This is isn't insanity. It's logic. And it's fucking hot.

--

Beecher's mouth. On my dick. Fuck.

Wanna die.

Wanna live.

Wanna kill him.

Shit. That's fucking good. If I just blow, he'll get the fuck off me.

Maybe even untie me. Might live after all.

--

Ryan's silent, but his hips are rocking forward as much as they can, and he's thrusting into Beecher's mouth now, and Beecher is taking it, and loving it.

Beecher's dick is rock hard, and Keller crosses to him, squeezes him through his jeans. O'Reily's eyes are shut hard, and his face is screwed up with concentration. Keller thinks he's probably thinking of someone else.

Chris finishes Toby, makes him explode right in his pants, and a minute or two later, O'Reily finally finishes.

--

Oh, just like that. I know you're gonna go, Ryan. Yes, give it all to me. Lemme suck that long, hard dick of yours dry. Oh, fuck, yes.

You taste so good, so nasty, so good. Fuck. I came in my jeans as Chris squeezed my cock.

Shit. It's over.

--

"Toby," Chris says, and Beecher seems to snap back out of it, guilt and fear across his face. Keller's got a shank in his hand. "Move, I gotta kill him."

"No," Toby says, just as Chris knew he would, "No, we can't do that."

"If we don't kill him, he's gonna kill us. He's a snake, Tob, a snake, we can't control him and you know it."

"I don't want to control Ryan," Toby says, sighing, "and I don't want to kill him."

"Leave him alone, Chris," Toby says.

"Life's gonna be real fuckin' tough around here if we don't whack him, Tob, you gotta understand that."

"I do. But Ryan doesn't deserve to die, anymore than he deserved to be raped, and I don't want him to die. I wanted to suck his dick, but I don't want him to die."

O'Reily is silent, watching Keller and Beecher talk. He seems to pretty clearly understand his situation and that shutting up is in his favor. Keller's irrationally proud of him. O'Reily's no moron. If he was, this whole thing wouldn't have been nearly so fun.

"Fine," Keller says, putting the shank back in his sock. "O'Reily I'm gonna beat the shit outta you, then I'm gonna take you to the infirmary. You're gonna say I found you like this and you don't remember shit, got that? You tell your girlfriend that I fucked you and you're fuckin' dead."

O'Reily looks like he's considering it. He doesn't look scared enough, in Toby's opinion. Keller can do an amazing amount of damage. Toby's arms still ache sometimes. He suddenly wants to go.

"Get it over with," O'Reily spits.

--

I'm gonna fucking live. I'm gonna get my revenge on both of them. And I'm going to see Gloria. What are a few swift punches to the face for that? Knock me out Keller, you sick fuck, so I can wake up with my angel.
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