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January 1

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One good thing about Chris, Toby thought, rinsing the last of the toothpaste from his mouth, was that you never had to worry about whether he was going to be horny when you were. Toby glanced up into the mirror mounted over the sink to catch Chris's reflection in the polished metal. He was leaning back against the frame of their bunks, staring at Toby intently. More accurately, he was staring at Toby's boxers-clad ass, a telltale bulge already beginning to strain at the front of his briefs.

Yeah, no question what was on his mind, and Toby knew it wasn't just because lights out was only moments away. Even though they'd been penned up together in lockdown less than 24 hours, it was already pretty clear that Chris was ready and willing to go at it pretty much anytime, anyhow, anywhere--whether that was a good idea or not.

Toby wiped his mouth with the hem of his t-shirt and watched Chris watching him in the mirror. Oz in a state of lockdown was a strange crucible in which to begin this…well, whatever the hell it was he and Chris were doing. On the one hand, it was kind of cool to be able to spend uninterrupted, unregulated time with Chris--especially now that they'd finally been able to find each other through Schillinger's maze of deception. But at the same time, not knowing how long the lockdown was going to last lent a weird pressure to the situation when Toby still wasn't entirely sure what and how he wanted their relationship to be. It wasn't until the usual regimentation of their day-to-day life had been suddenly stripped away that Toby realized how much he'd been subconsciously counting on that routine to allow him and Chris the time and space to figure things out a little more gradually.

"Lights out!" yelled Murphy from the central security station, as Em City's oppressively bright "day" came to an end. It wasn't actually dark at night in the cellblock, but it was dim enough for most discreet activities to go unnoticed unless a hack was passing by directly with a flashlight. Toby felt a strange tightness coil in his belly as the main banks of lights blinked out one by one.

"About time." Chris came up behind Toby and gave his shoulders a squeeze. Toby closed his eyes at the feel of Chris's long, strong fingers digging into his muscles.

Touch, simple touch. After a year and a half in this godforsaken place where the only two options seemed to be either no human contact whatsoever, or horrible abuse--having someone to touch him again felt so damned good it was almost scary. Part of him wanted to just fall into it, wallow in it--flop down on his back and let Chris pet him like a fucking dog. But of course, he'd felt that way once before, and it had turned out to be…

"What's the matter? You seem tense," Chris said, massaging his shoulders more vigorously.

He loves me. But the thought wasn't quite enough to keep some still-bitter remnant of Toby's anger from slipping out.

"It's still kind of hard for me to relax. Considering."

"Yeah," Chris agreed in a rough whisper. He was quiet again for a moment before dropping a soft kiss at the nape of Toby's neck. "You just gotta trust me. Everything is different now."

Did he trust Chris? Well, wasn't that the million dollar question?

Love him, yeah. In spite of what he was sure was his better judgment (but shit, how good had that ever been?), Chris had won a place in his heart. And, want him? Definitely. Bewilderingly. Maddeningly. And constantly--even when he'd thought he hated him.

But trust? There was no simple answer for that one. And here in Oz, trust and touch had become one and the same. The two things that, if you chose badly about who to open yourself up to, would either find you dead--or just leave you wishing that you were.

Everything is different now.

He wanted to believe it. And so far, everything they'd done had been good. It'd been great. After all, would he have ever dreamed that he'd actually enjoy having another man's dick in his mouth, "considering" his previous experiences with Schillinger and Robson? But last night, lost in the throes of that insane sixty-nine session, he'd found himself desperate to have his face stuffed full with much of Chris as possible. God, he couldn't get enough, driven halfway out of his mind with bliss from whatever the hell Chris was doing to him. He felt enveloped and invaded and tickled and teased until he was just a writhing, sweating, trembling, hungry mess. And suddenly having another man's dick in his mouth seemed like just about the best idea anybody'd ever had, and he'd licked and pulled and sucked and slobbered all over Chris's cock until he didn't even know what he was feeling anymore--where he ended and Chris began, and he didn't care. He just wanted more, more, more until he was shooting a massive load down Chris's throat, coming so hard he was afraid he might have pulled the stitches out of the still-healing stab wound in his side. He tasted Chris's come in his own mouth, and for the first time there was no revulsion, no humiliation, no negative association at all--hell, he'd been so wrapped up in his own orgasm he'd barely even noticed when Chris was coming too.

So yeah, that had been different, all right. But waking in the sobering glare of Em City's flourescent daylight, with morning wood and unaccustomed aches in muscles he'd forgotten he had, left him feeling strangely vulnerable. And even though it had faded for the most part through a day of just being with Chris--playing chess, and speculating pointlessly on the state of the lockdown, and staring blankly into space--as evening approached and the promise of another encounter grew near, the uncertainty had crept back into his mind.

"Toby, come on," Chris tugged Toby around to face him. "Don't do this, man. You get lost in your head, make yourself all crazy."

Toby searched Chris's face, for what he wasn't sure--some definitive sign of something. But Chris just looked like Chris, as unfathomable as ever. Toby had to either believe him, or not.

"Then make me think about something else."

"Thought you'd never ask," Chris said with a smile, leaning in until Toby's lower back was shoved up against the sink. One thing Toby had no trouble believing was that Chris still wanted him like crazy.

The seconds it took for their mouths to meet felt like an eternity of agonizing limbo, but then Chis was there, kissing him hard and full, and deep, and Toby could feel the nagging little doubts already beginning to recede.

"God, I missed touching you all fucking day," Chris sighed against his lips, finally breaking the kiss. He slid his hands under Toby's t-shirt, carefully skimming past the bandaged wound that only really hurt now under sudden twisting movement or direct contact. Toby let out a groan as Chris rubbed across his nipples, then back down to his waist. "Come to bed."

It sounded so intimate; something a lover would say. And that's what they were now, wasn't it? Lovers. Toby had to stifle a laugh. No wonder he felt so freaked out.

"Fuck, hang on. Mineo," Toby muttered, catching the reflection of a flashlight beam moving down the corridor.

Chris nodded and went quickly to his bunk, while Toby turned back toward the sink and turned on the taps, pretending he was still washing up. A few moments later, Mineo lumbered past at his usual, bored pace, flashing his light perfunctorily into their pod before moving on. Toby turned off the water, but waited a few beats longer just for insurance before going to sit on the edge of Chris's bunk and stripping off his t-shirt.

"Coast's clear."

Chris opened his eyes from feigned sleep and sat up. "You good?" he asked, tracing soothing circles along Toby's shoulder blades.

"Yeah," Toby nodded, closing his eyes and willing it to be true.

"What do you want to do?"

"What do I…?" Toby half turned so he could see Chris's face. "What do you mean?"

Chris shrugged. "Anything you want, Tobe, you just tell me."

Toby hesitated. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? For Chris not to push him, to be able to figure out what he was comfortable with and not feel pressured into doing stuff that was going to stir up bad memories. Except…Toby'd never been very good at asking for things, either. All things considered, it was kind of easier last night when Chris just shoved him back onto the bottom bunk and took over.

Last night. Wow. Another sensory highlight reel flashed through his mind and he went warm all over.

"That thing you did to me last night," Toby mumbled, feeling stupid for blushing.

Chris leaned in close and breathed in his ear. "I did a lot of things to you last night."

"Yeah," Toby laughed and closed his eyes as the memories came even clearer. Then he felt Chris's hand sliding lower down his torso, making straight for the front of his boxers. Chris grasped him through the thin cotton and gave a teasing squeeze.

"I think you've got something specific in mind."

"You, uh, you…"

You licked my ass, Toby thought, as a spot of precome seeped through the fabric stretched over the head of his cock.

Chris drew a wide stripe down the side of Toby's neck with the flat of his tongue. "You want me to eat you out." It wasn't even a question.

"Fuck, yeah." Toby twisted around again so he could kiss the smug grin off Chris's face.

It pulled at the wound in his side a little, but he didn't care, as he leaned his weight into Chris until they both tumbled down, side by side in the narrow bunk. He kissed Chris again, wanting to feel every bit of that wicked mouth, using the sensation to fuel his already fevered imagination of what was to come.

He groaned when Chris pulled away from him. "What're you…" he started, but abandoned the question as Chris climbed over him, then moved slowly down his body, leaving an erratic trail of nips and kisses along the way. He felt Chris's hands curving over his ass through the material of his boxers, then fingers running along the edge of the waistband. Toby closed his eyes and held his breath in anticipation of that first tug. Chris yanked and worked the boxers off his ass and down his hips, but left them on in case they needed to pull themselves together quickly for a surprise hack visit. It was a practical consideration, but Toby also thought it was kind of hot that way, with his legs semi-bound up in elastic--a reminder of the risk. He'd never known he was such a danger slut until he met Chris.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Chris said in a husky whisper, grasping and kneading two big handfuls of Toby's ass. And crude, ugly swastika burned into his flesh and all, Toby believed he meant it.

A sharp bite made Toby jerk in surprise, but it was followed a moment later by a soothing, wet lick and more kneading, and then a softer bite, and more licks, alternating sting and tickle until the two feelings began to blend into a pleasant generalized warmth over his skin. Toby hummed in his throat and shifted on the scratchy sheets to make room for his stiffening cock. Chris seemed to take the movement as a sign. He grabbed Toby's ass cheeks harder and spread them open, starting the nipping and licking thing again, but further in, and further still. Toby felt fantastically exposed, but he didn't care, knowing now what was coming next, when Chris would just dive in and…

"Fuck," Toby bit down on his lip hard to keep from crying out louder. His legs shifted restlessly under him, still tangled in the elastic of his boxers, as Chris spread him wider and went to town. He lapped at Toby gently at first, then stroked harder with his tongue, pressing deeper, more sensitive than any finger, until Toby felt himself slipping off into that lost space again, where he'd been last night--twisting and moaning under the relentless but perfectly gentle pressure, every nerve ending aflame. He felt completely undone, like his secret self was being pulled apart and revealed. How could Chris do this to him? How could he know?

Then Toby felt one of Chris's hands leave his ass and slide down between his legs, digging underneath Toby's body and urging him to lift up his hips a little to give Chris better access. Toby complied as best he could with his tangled, shaky legs, and was rewarded for his efforts by Chris's hand reaching under him to grab his cock. One stroke, two strokes, three strokes--all combined with the maddening work of that tongue on his ass, and Toby knew he was a goner.

"Chris," it was a helpless sound, almost a sob. He was going to come so soon and so hard, it was almost pathetic.

"Yeah, there you go," Chris whispered, pulling him harder and biting down right over the swastika brand on his cheek. The unexpected sting of the bite seemed to jolt into the oncoming rush of his orgasm, and it was all Toby could do to gnaw at the mattress, white-knuckle the bunk frame and ride it out, twitching and jerking and humping the air as pulse after pulse of jizz spurted against his belly.

"Ungh," he grunted, collapsing down in a dead-weight heap. He was peripherally aware of Chris moving back up the bed to lie alongside him, but mostly he was staring at the backs of his own eyelids and wondering if this was what stardust floating in space felt like.

"A little more relaxed now?"

"Ungh," Toby agreed, nodding.

"Fuck, here comes Mineo," Chris whispered, giving Toby's shoulder a shove.

"Shit."

Toby somehow mustered the energy to yank his boxers on and haul himself up to the top bunk before collapsing again. The beam of a flashlight briefly pierced the gloom, and Mineo's silhouette lumbered past once again. After another moment, Toby cleared his throat.

"You didn't…"

"Don't worry," Chris said with a soft laugh, "I loved every minute of that."

Toby closed his eyes again, and decided to believe him.


--FIN--