And, re-assembling our afflicted powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend.
--John Milton, Paradise Lost
It seemed only right, only proper that Keller should have sparked the whole thing.
In the laundry room, Ryan had said, "So what do you say we let Andy boy suck on that tit until he O.D.'s."
"Or," Toby had said slowly, just then realizing the beginning of his plan.
"Or what?" Keller asked, his voice a sarcastic whiplash.
And Toby evenly met his stare and let the idea form.
Later, as he shaved, he looked into the mirror, thought about Andy and smiled lazily. It wasn't, he knew, a nice smile. There was too much Keller in it. He let it deepen.
There was such beautiful synchronicity in this, he thought. Bringing Andy to his cell to keep him safe. Now that was genius. Toby wondered if Vern would appreciate that, would see the irony.
Probably. For all of his Neanderthal ways, Vern did have a fair understanding of the subtle things.
What Vern had overlooked, or didn't know, care or appreciate, was that Toby understood the subtle things too.
Really, it was almost too easy. He had his own seduction as a template. Nobody knew better than he that while a whipped dog would bite when cornered, if you stroked him and spoke gently, he'd creep closer and let you pet him, would practically beg you to touch him. Strike that. Keller knew. He'd seen where Vern had been blind. The cruelest blow was always from the hand that you expected to stroke you.
That was the key. It was easy to make people do things. Frighten them, hurt them, threaten them and they would damn near piss themselves to obey. But to make them *want* to do something, especially if they thought it was their own idea…Well. If you could do that, you owned them. Forever.
A good lawyer knows there has to be an element of truth in every lie in order for the falsehood to sound sincere. So everything he told Andy was the mostly truth. He did hate Vern. They didn't *need* to take drugs to get even, to punish themselves. There were, he mused as he gave Andy a slow smile, other ways.
And Andy smiled back, eyes filled devotion and desperate gratitude, his baby face soft and vulnerable and so damn hungry. Toby didn't even *need* to use the tricks he'd learned from Keller, the casual gestures, the easy touches, the quiet confidences, but used them anyway, just to see each expression on Andy's face, to watch the wary hostility in his eyes turn to acceptance and then need.
Like now. Yeah. He must have looked just like that.
In the common room, Andy sat close to him, occasionally leaning in to whisper a smart ass comment in Toby's ear. Each time, Toby leaned closer, until Andy's lips almost brushed his earlobe, then smiled, a slow, soft smile to let Andy know *he* understood the joke, *he* thought Andy was intelligent and funny and wonderful.
And Andy *glowed*. Toby almost despised him at those times.
Someday, he thought, someday soon, if he asked, Andy would sink to his knees and suck his cock. The beauty of it was that it would be willingly, that Andy would want to. His big brown eyes would stare up at Beecher filled with love and devotion and then his prim little mouth would open wide. And that would be…sweet.
During the day, when Toby walked through Em City Andy always stayed right with him, his face truculent, just daring anyone to mess with them, with Toby, so Andy could *show* him that he would stand up for Toby, would protect him. Even if he got his ass handed to him.
He even began to pick up Toby's mannerisms, tilting his head to one side when he asked a question, steepling his fingers when pondering something. It should have been flattering, maybe even endearing. Instead, he imagined that if Andy were a puppy, he'd be on his back and submission peeing on his belly.
At times it was almost too much for Toby to keep a straight face.
And at night, oh at night. The quiet confidences made under the safety of darkness, the hesitant way Andy would share his own secrets and sometimes cry. But perhaps best of all was the way he curled into Toby's arms and during those times. Andy would cling so tightly, would bury his face in Toby's chest and almost seemed to want to crawl inside him.
He wanted so *badly* to be held, to be touched. Toby wondered how long ago Andy had been held just to be comforted, had trusted someone enough to let them comfort him. He was willing to bet it had been a long time. Perhaps his mother, Toby guessed. Certainly he could never see Vern doing so.
So he held Andy, stroked him and crooned to him, said all the reassuring things he'd wanted to hear when he had been alone and needing, all the things Keller has said so sweetly. So sincerely.
"It's okay," he murmured against Andy's hair. "It will be all right. You're not alone." When Andy gave a shudder, Toby added the sweetest, the best promise, the Chris Keller special. "I'm here. I won't leave you."
And that did it, that was the magic key that unlocked Andy.
Andy with a low, soft cry, buried his face against Toby's throat and kissed him, his soft little mouth pressing against the pulse beating there.
Almost instantly, he drew back with an embarrassed mutter of, "God, Toby, I'm *sorry*. "I didn't, I mean I know you don't…" He trailed of miserably, his head hanging.
For a moment Toby paused. He could leave it there, or reassure the boy it was okay, no big deal. He didn't actually *need* to do anything more.
But instead, he gently lifted Andy's chin and stared into the unhappy, uncertain eyes of a puppy waiting for the kick. Yes. That must have been the same expression Keller had seen.
And said, "Andy," in a low, intimate voice that made Andy's eyes half close and his lips part on a soft, surprised puff of air.
Without a word, without protest, Andy let Toby pull him closer, let him capture that little breath just before their lips touched.
He let his lips just press for a moment before opening his mouth and carefully, delicately explored Andy's mouth, as if he was afraid of frightening him. Just for a second he thought he had when Andy went utterly still, then Andy let out a groan, of gratitude, of need and pressed closer, let the kiss become wild.
So wild that he didn't even protest when Toby's hands slipped under his shirt and caressed the lines of his back or curved around to gently circle his nipples, just pressed closer, still making little noises of want and need at each touch.
He did protest when Toby had to break the kiss to remove his shirt, blindly pressing forward, mouth moist and yearning, until Toby pulled the shirt free and took his mouth again.
Taking his shorts off proved even easier. The harsh, pleading noises he made when Toby curled his fingers around Andy's cock would have been loud enough to summon the guards had they not been muffled by Toby's mouth.
It only took a few careful touches and a whispered command to for Andy to ease back, to lie down on his stomach. Waiting for him, all for him.
Toby pulled his own clothing off and carelessly rolled a condom on, then stared down at the bed before sliding in next to the waiting, subtly trembling boy.
And it wasn't the pale young body underneath him that made his cock hard. It was knowing he could do anything, *everything* he wanted to. He lightly ran his hand over Andy's hip, then over the baby soft skin of his ass and felt Andy quiver under his fingertips.
"Toby," Andy whispered, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I never, I mean I don't know if-"
For a moment he ignored the uncertainty in Andy's voice, watched his fingers trace a design over the smooth, unmarked flesh. Considering. Then he closed his eyes and made his voice gentle, caring. Just like Keller's. "Shhh. I won't hurt you. Just let me make you feel good."
He knew, contrary to his lessons with Vern, that it could feel good. Alone in his pod, when Chris still in the hole, he'd explored and touched, knowing that this must feel good or Chris wouldn't want it, would never want Toby to feel pain or shame. And he'd found things beyond jerking off, things that did feel good, felt great, pretended it was Chris' fingers touching him so gently, Chris' cock invading him, and had found himself coming without ever having touched his cock.
God, the things a lonely drunk in love will think and do, he thought. It hadn't even occurred to him to wonder when Keller had purchased the condoms and lube he'd found while snooping, or how long they'd been there.
Luckily, these questions also didn't appear to trouble young Andrew either.
He merely gasped when Toby's finger invaded him, groaned a little in protest and then…Yes. Then he moaned and pushed back with a shimmying, rotating thrust and Toby smiled. It was nice to know he was at least partially correct about some things, anyway.
Andy let out a pleading whimper when Toby removed his fingers, whimpered again, this time a little unhappily, when he replaced them with his cock.
But Toby was slow and careful and soon Andy was with the program again, making the same little noises he'd made when Toby had kissed him. He arched into every thrust, every touch, and came crying Toby's name. A moment later, Toby finished as well, silently.
Afterward, Toby held him, smoothed his sweat damn hair back from his forehead, kissed it tenderly and waited until he was asleep. Then he carefully disentangled himself, rose, gathered up his clothing and quickly put it on.
After he flushed the condom down the toilet, Toby finally allowed himself to glance out the window, across the hall to Keller's pod, where he wasn't surprised at all to see a figure in a white shirt pressed against the window, staring back at him.
He smiled even though he knew Keller couldn't see it, pursed his lips in satisfaction, then climbed into bed.
Just before he fell asleep, he thought about his plans for tomorrow. A visit to Vern was in order. He wouldn't share the details of tonight, of course. He wouldn't need to. After all, fucking Andy had nothing to with Vern.