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Rebadow sighed heavily, his chin propped on one hand as he studied the checkerboard. Finally he slowly lifted his free hand a few inches off the table and moved a black checker one square. His hand drifted back to the table listlessly.
Busmallis stared at the board. “Huh.” He stared some more.
This was the slowest game of checkers Ryan had ever watched in his life. He was tempted to knock the checkers off the table, just to see somebody move at more than a snail’s crawl. Unfortunately, if he did, the hacks would freak, simply to give them something to do, and Ryan needed his freedom this afternoon, well, as much of it as he could get as a resident of Oz. He couldn’t afford to end up in the Hole, he had plans.
Rebadow sighed, again.
Ryan understood everyone’s frustrations – they hadn’t had any excitement in Em City in weeks. The place was dead. But if he could hang on until two-thirty he could meet Beecher, and maybe he could talk the man out of a few of his goodies for a reduction in the price of the package. Not like he really needed the money; he’d much rather have a sample of the goods. He’d still come out ahead, he was charging Beecher an arm and a leg.
Busmallis still hadn’t made his move, yet. He kept putting his finger on one of his pieces, then taking it off again without moving the checker.
“Jesus, Busmallis,” Alvarez said, slapping his cards facedown onto his table, “move a fucking checker, man. It’s not brain surgery!”
Busmallis jumped in surprise. “You’re not even playing checkers, you’re playing poker, so why are you all staring at me?”
Ryan threw down his cards. “Because the only thing deader than your checker game is my fucking hand.” He could leave in another five minutes, there was no sense continuing to play such a miserable game of poker. The other two guys threw down their hands as well. That game really had sucked.
Busmallis’ eyes got wide as he realized they were all waiting for him to make a move. He scooted his chair away from the table, “I’m not going to…”
Reggie Rawls and a couple of new homeboys walked by at the same time, and Busmallis’ chair rammed right into some kid’s leg. “Hey, watch it, old man!” he shouted, making a big production of skipping backwards to avoid getting knocked over.
Reggie rolled his eyes at Busmallis. “Pay attention to what you’re doing, Termite.”
The other two snorted their laughter. The one who’d avoided getting his shin barked poked the other one. “He called him a termite!”
“Hey!” Busmallis stood up as they walked away. “I’m not a termite, I’m The Mole!”
“I doubt he knows the difference, Agamemnon.” Rebadow said, shaking his head. “The homeboys aren't exactly known for their encyclopedic knowledge of the natural world.”
Busmallis frowned. "Huh?”
Rebadow sighed heavily. “Nevermind.”
Ryan had been through this part already. He’d had enough. He got up, and moved one of Busmallis’ checkers.
“Hey!”
“There ya go.” He shoved Busmallis into his chair. “Now sit down and finish your game. I’m going to the library.”
He left them sitting there arguing over the differences between a bug that eats wood and an animal that digs through the dirt, and which would come in handier when escaping from prison. God, but he hated Oz.
By the time Beecher showed up ten minutes later, Ryan had it all worked out. His cousin’s wife Lena had thought the package was for Ryan, and she’d whipped up a little something special for him, at no extra charge. Now he had the perfect plan.
Beecher peeked in timidly, and Ryan pulled him into the room. “It’s about time you got here, Beecher, I was about to start without you.”
Beecher crossed his arms, shaking his head vigorously. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m willing to pay your outrageous price, O’Reily, but they’re all mine.”
“Oh, c’mon, Beecher,” Ryan said seductively. “After I went out of my way to sweeten the deal for you?”
“Sweeten the deal?” he asked suspiciously. “What do you mean by that?”
Ryan pulled out one of those refrigerated bags that keep food cold for hours, and he opened the bag with a grin. Beecher stuck his head in until he could see the fresh strawberries sitting in their carton, right next to a resealable container.
“Oh, they look beautiful,” Beecher said reverently.
He reached in to grab one, but Ryan smacked his hand. “Not yet, Beech. Aren’t you the least bit curious as to what’s in the container?”
Beecher shook out his hand, even though Ryan hadn’t hit it that hard. “I’m not sure. Are you going to want more money for it?”
“Nope, no money.” Ryan smiled broadly. “You’ll pay your way with strawberries.”
“No!” Beecher grabbed for the bag, but Ryan pulled it away, stepping backwards to stay out of Beecher’s grasp.
“Hands back! Out of the way!”
Beecher scowled at him, arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve already paid for the strawberries…”
“Calm down,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes. “You’re gonna like this, I promise.” Before Beecher could say anything else, Ryan made an offer with a wink. “Tell ‘ya what. You’ll get the first hit for free.”
The two of them had a long history of drug abuse, and Ryan could tell Beecher was remembering that when Ryan reached into the bag and fiddled with the lid of the container. He picked a nice, pretty strawberry, dipped it in, and held it out to Beecher, whose jaw dropped when he saw the dollop of whipped cream sitting on top.
He swallowed heavily before he spoke. “Is that whipped cream fresh, or is it Cool Whip?”
“It’s fresh, man. You gotta be kidding. Like my cousin Lena would send me anything else?”
He stretched out his arm to Beecher, who took the strawberry with a trembling hand. His tongue slipped out and he took a small lick of the cream. He moaned, his eyes closing in appreciation, then in one bite, he ate the whole thing, leaving only the stem behind.
He moaned so loudly that Ryan had to shush him. “Yo, Beecher, keep it down, man! This area is usually clear this time of day, but you never know when a hack might pass through. Keep the orgasm to yourself!”
That was exactly what it had sounded like. Not that he knew what Beecher sounded like when he came, but the moans, and the look of pure bliss on his face were definitely orgasm-like. He could feel himself trembling inside. If Beecher said no now, there would be trouble. Not that he imagined that there would be trouble, Beecher’s eyes were open again, and fastened hungrily on the bag Ryan was holding in his hand.
“So we got a deal here, Beech? You supply the berries, I supply the cream?”
Beecher bit his lip. “How much whipped cream do you have?”
“Lena said it would be enough for the whole package.” He pulled the strawberries and whipped cream out, and set them on a convenient case stack of paper towels.
Beecher examined the packages, and nodded. “Fifty/fifty split?”
Ryan worked hard to keep the shit-eating grin off his face. “Works for me.”
They both tried hard to eat slowly; they were simply too good to chow down on the way they usually ate here at Oz. Ryan found himself watching Beecher as his eyes drifted closed with every bite, his whimpers stirring Ryan up in ways he hadn’t been stirred since Gloria left. It was nothing, really. Just the pleasure of the berries and cream. It didn’t mean anything. Really it didn’t.
They hadn’t said a single word since they’d started eating – just the swallowing, occasional panting, and lots and lots of licking their lips. Ryan wasn’t the only one watching; Beecher’s eyes were wide as they followed Ryan’s hand to his mouth. He bit into an especially plump strawberry, and felt the juice run down the side of his chin. He put his finger out to wipe it up, no sense wasting good berry juice, but Beecher beat him to it.
His forefinger stopped the juice from running, and he ran his finger all the way back to Ryan’s lip. The first thought in Ryan’s mind was that juice belonged to Ryan, he wasn’t going to let Beecher lick it off his finger. So Ryan opened his mouth, and closed it around Beech’s finger, sucking off the juice, his tongue rubbing the underside, making sure he got it all.
Beecher’s face looked pale as he stared at Ryan’s mouth, but maybe that was because his lips looked so red from the strawberries. He reached for another berry, but he didn’t bring it to his own lips, he brought it to Ryan’s. Ryan bit it in half, but it was Beecher that moaned. He took a step closer, and used the strawberry to coat Ryan’s lips with the juice.
“Beecher?”
Ryan wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was pretty sure he didn’t want it to stop. Beecher ate the last of the berry, but his eyes were still focused on Ryan’s mouth. He put one hand around Ryan’s neck, pulling him closer, then he lapped at the juice on Ryan’s lips. This time, Ryan was the one that moaned.
Ryan didn’t open his lips until Beecher finished a full circuit of Ryan’s mouth, and he was shocked at the intensity of the flavor in Beecher’s mouth – berry ripe, and rich with cream, Ryan couldn’t imagine anything better.
Beecher backed him up against a shelf of supplies, and pressed his body firmly against Ryan’s, his hips moving tentatively, as if unsure how Ryan would react. Okay, so maybe Ryan had been a little less than kind in the past about Beecher’s occasional forays into gay sex, but it had been almost a year since Gloria had gone, and he was feeling a little more receptive to the idea these days. With Beecher at least; the guy had been there for him from the beginning, even before Gloria. He trusted Beech. He was probably the only one Ryan did trust these days.
They parted long enough to pull in breath, then dove right back into their kiss. Ryan put his hands on Beecher’s hips, pulling them even closer, until he could feel the hardness of Beecher’s cock pressing against his leg. It was a little freaky, but it wasn’t like he was committing to buttsex or anything. If he said no, Beecher wouldn’t push. He didn’t feel like saying no to anything yet, though. When Beecher bucked his hips, and his leg pressed tight against Ryan’s cock, he gasped at the sensations he was feeling. He wanted more.
Beecher broke off their kiss, reached between the two of them, and unzipped Ryan’s pants, pushing them down around his thighs. He did the same with his own, and Ryan’s stomach was full of butterflies, uncomfortable at the idea of touching Beecher’s cock. Beecher grabbed Ryan’s cock and started stroking it as he licked and sucked on Ryan’s throat, something that Ryan had always loved. He leaned his head back, giving Beecher plenty of room.
“Ryan…” Beecher moaned his name, and Ryan realized he really ought to participate in this more than he was. He could do this. It was Beech after all. He could do this.
“Ryan…please!”
Beecher was begging. That didn’t seem right, unless they were playing a game. That’s what he’d do. He’d make it a game. He reached around and squeezed Beecher’s ass.
“Something you wanted, Beecher?” he teased.
“Oh,” Beecher groaned. “You son-of-a-bitch. Touch me.”
Ryan laughed into Beecher’s ear. He ran his hand down Beecher’s thigh. “Here?”
Beecher was whimpering again, and he realized he had full control. That gave him courage enough to move one step further. His hand slid between their bodies; he could feel Beecher’s hand squeezing his own cock, pumping it slowly. Beecher humped Ryan’s leg, a smear of warm precome running along his thigh. His teasing was slowing down Beecher’s movements, and Ryan wanted that hand back at work, so he knew he needed to move this along.
The next time Beecher humped his leg, Ryan reached out and grabbed the head in his hand. Beecher froze, and so did Ryan, unsure what to do next, but Beecher’s hips started pumping again, and Ryan caught the rhythm. It felt weird, like he was jerking himself off, but using the wrong hand, or something. Beecher went back to work on Ryan’s cock, and that was even better, especially when Beech kissed him again. He sucked on Ryan’s tongue to the same rhythm they were both jerking. It was like Ryan’s head was spinning, it all felt so good.
Beecher pulled away from their kiss, and leaned his forehead on Ryan’s shoulder. He moved to the left, so they were lined up, then he grabbed both of Ryan’s hands in his. He wrapped all four hands around their cocks, and started to pump.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Ryan cried.
“Shhhhh…”
This time it was Beecher’s turn to remind Ryan to shut the fuck up, and he bit his tongue to keep his shouts inside. “Okay,” he whispered, “that’s pretty fucking awesome, Beecher.”
The heat of four hands wrapped around them, and the slickness, and the pressure was all incredible, and he didn’t even give a fuck if his cock was rubbing up against Beecher’s, ‘cause it felt pretty fucking fantastic. He was having trouble thinking right anyway, and the chances were high that he was going to come all over himself any minute now. His legs were shaking, and his muscles kept clenching. He figured Beecher had the right idea, so he dropped his head down onto Beecher’s shoulder, and concentrated on keeping his hands moving over their cocks.
Beecher came first, those little whimpers building up to gasps and moans. His hands started squeezing harder, his hot breath blowing across Ryan’s neck as he panted. He shouted Ryan’s name, but he muffled the cry into Ryan’s shirt, then slumped, as if all his muscles gave way at once. Fortunately, he kept his knees stiff, ‘cause Ryan was pretty sure that he couldn’t have held them both up, the way his own knees were shaking.
He kept moving his hands, and after a moment or two, Beecher’s cock slipped out, his hot come slicking the passage their hands made. Beecher picked up the pace again, and it didn’t take long for Ryan to come, too - biting his lip to keep his cries in.
“Oh, man… I think my head just exploded.” Ryan couldn’t say any more than that.
“Which one?”
They laughed, still gasping and wheezing. Beecher pushed him up against the shelving unit long enough to open up a roll of paper towels. They cleaned themselves up awkwardly, not saying much but asking for more towels. He noticed Beecher looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but he had no idea what to say. What do you say to the guy you just jerked off?
There were a few strawberries left, and a smear of whipped cream. They split the berries, not looking at each other, and Ryan decided that if they left the room like this, they’d keep feeling awkward, and Ryan didn’t want it to end like that. Fuck, he didn’t want it to end. He felt better than he had in ages. He deserved it, and so did Beecher. He laughed self-consciously – if he could hold Beecher’s cock in his hand, he could probably call the guy by his first name.
He wiped the whipped cream up on his finger, watching Beecher’s eyes follow his hand. “Toby.”
Toby looked up at him in surprise.
Ryan held out his finger, and Toby grinned kind of shyly, then took the finger in his mouth, sucking the whipped cream off, making Ryan wonder what else he could do with that tongue. Well, they’d have plenty of time to find out, wouldn’t they?
Ryan slid into an empty seat near the table where Rebadow and Busmallis were playing what looked to be the same game of checkers they’d been playing when he’d left. Alvarez and Toby looked up when he sat down, and Ryan had trouble keeping the smile off his face. No need to start any rumors. This place was rife with them already.
Alvarez gathered up the cards he’d been dealing out. “You’re in, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He looked around the room disdainfully. “Nothing else to do around here.”
“Couldn’t find a book you liked at the library?” Rebadow asked without looking around, his eyes focused on their terribly boring game of checkers.
“Nah. I read ‘em all already.”
That got a chuckle out of Rebadow.
Busmallis sighed. “This is the most boring day ever.”
Ryan glanced around quickly to make sure no one was watching, and gave Toby a quick wink. “You can say that again.”
Busmallis moved a checker, and Rebadow stared at the checkerboard. He sighed heavily, as Toby hid a grin.