slashsmut serial jen beecher keller

All Talk

by Jen

I fell for it. Yet again. The hacks are going to be here any minute, they have to be. Have to get up. If not for myself then for my back. Every time I try to move, that massive head keeps my lower body in place. A final stab (no pun intended)...


Muttered into my groin. Half plea and half command. He's testing me. If I sit up, this latest fling is over. Chris will spurn a relationship between us forever, I can go back to how I used to be and hopefully move on. Getting up is the only rational, intelligent decision.

So I stay exactly where he wants me.

Seems to please him, and the bites into my thigh certainly please me. Said would be disgusted. I miss Said.

"Come here, Chris."

His muscular frame climbs upward with agonizing slowness. Chests finally touch, his crushing mine. Necks break apart to put me up against the stare that's haunted this pod for so many years. The white specks on his cheeks taste sour on my tongue. How did I go from tossing out the banana slices in Holly's cereal to licking cum off my prison lover's face?

A part of Keller has always excited me. The sinfulness of willingly giving control to another man, taking what he gives me. He wasn't a parent-made match, or a pretty law clerk, he jumped in from the last place I expected and still hasn't let go of the death grip.

Life on the wild side, not a few trips a year, but every damn day. He protects me, thinks he controls me....loves me. And thanks to Schillinger forcibly ripping through those pesky delusions of heterosexuality, I can fuck Keller every way I want to, and not feel an ounce of guilt.

Lost my wife, son, self-respect, sanity, and virginity, but at least I have really hot sex with my personal nightmare's ex-prag. With a choice between this hell and my old whitebread life, I'd grab my glasses and my cherry and never look back. Not going to tell Keller that, he probably already knows anyway. Wonder if he knows the third or fourth item on my rewritten to-do list would be hiring him as a gardener. Who cares about getting sheared by the pool when you've given it up with only transparent walls to hide behind?

"I have a feeling we woke up every fucker in Em City."

Lips kissing down my rib cage.

"Hope so. Be final...mmmph...proof you're my piece of ass."

I hate him for saying that. And I hate my dick for jumping up after we heard his low growl. The tongue assaulting my navel isn't helping. Feels so good...legs going over his broad shoulders...lining up...shouldn't ask this right now. But I have to.

"What was this?"

Pause for a grin hiding confusion. One of the many weapons in his arsenal.

"Wild sex. What was it supposed to be?"

Wrong time to ask.


Not in the mood now, legs thrown around his lap.

"We gotta finish this. Just get it out, Toby."

"Does this mean you forgive me?"

Laughter. Not gentle or warm, a cold chuckle. Fuck him. My body kicks him away, taking me to the sink to wash his particular smell away.

"This was all another fucking game, wasn't it? Toy with YOUR Toby's emotions to make up for not having a soul. Just wanted to get another fix, and who cares if I'm hurt in the process."

Can barely look at myself in the mirror. He stands behind me, chest almost touching my back, cock near my ass, not touching even though our bodies scream for us to. His long face is frozen, eyes dead.

"Yeah, I did wanna fuck with your head. All that self-pity and poor Toby crap went on way too long. I saw the look on your face after you were in my pod, that twisted desire. That was my Toby. I had to have him back. Even if it killed us both, I wanted him tonight."

And you got him.

I had given up after the final rejection, every attempt I made to get Chris back failed. Then we did our dance while I looked for the murder weapon. He mocked what we had, threatened my daughter's life, and as much I wanted to kill him, what I had finally started burying roared back to life for brief seconds. He knew it. Still does.

A large hand, once tender, grabs my left arm, squeezing hard.

"Remember when I broke your arms? The smile on my face? No way you've forgotten. Too easy to just close those eyes and flash back on grinding bones. Even worse, the constant ache in your heart, you let yourself fall in love, and love spit back in your face. I know you never really got over that, nobody can. Same with me. Mental shot of you and that shank, the hate on your face, it ain't ever gonna leave my brain. We're even now. Maybe it's what you wanted all along, huh Beecher?"

I hold back the angry tears by sheer will alone. Turn to face him, not his reflection. The heat from our bodies has dissipated, replaced by coldness between us, inside my brain.

"That's a goddamn lie. I tried so many days to push my feelings under madness or revenge or self-loathing, and they never went away. Do you know how that feels, to beg for forgiveness and be treated like what you gave was worth absolute shit? Oh, that's right, you do, the only difference is I had a real reason to be pissed off."

I'm almost grateful for the hands in my hair, at least it's body contact. Heat to thaw the cold.

"Don't you ever say that to me AGAIN, YOU BITCH. You hear me?"

Now it's my turn to laugh, crazy giggling that doesn't even piss him off, it only makes him dejected. His arms go to his sides.

"I spent months trailing behind you like a fucking puppy because of what I had to do to stay alive. I at least expected the same. Next thing I know, you're lettin' that nigger fuck your ass. After all the time it took to make you want me, and I have to watch him get his dick in on the first try."

"I'm truly sorry I didn't follow the Keller guidebook for apologies. I was too busy burying my son."

Keller has his dumbstruck grin plastered on, as if he were waiting all night to hear this.

"Yep. I know all about that. Everybody does. Tobias Beecher has problems. No, sorry...PROBLEMS! He's the only sonuva bitch in the whole world who's ever suffered. He carries his shitload of troubles around like a little get outta blame free card. Cause Toby, he killed a little girl, his own son, Metzger, both of Vern's boys, but don't make him feel bad, you can't make him feel any worse than he already does."

Every secret, every crime used against me. I should have known he'd go this far, but it still hurts.

"Toby, you feed off that self-loathing, you been suckin' off that tit since long before we ever met."

Keller also blames me for Gary's death. The pain inside only goes away when I hurt back. This room is getting smaller and smaller. My backside leans against the porcelain, chill numbing me, preparing me for my turn.

"I take responsibility for what I've done. Every day. At least *I* take the responsibility. I supported your attempts at salvation, fearing the fire and all that bullshit. That lasted...what...a month?"

Now it's his turn to feel a little pain. What's the matter Chris, didn't think I knew how to pick at fresh scabs?

"The only joy you can ever feel is making other people suffer. The real reason Operation Toby ever started had to be the challenge. Get a straight guy, a crazy straight guy to boot, into your pants. And it worked. Too bad you had to make me hate you."

He stops looking, shifts his eyes to his feet. Last dagger is left, still in my bag. I pause. I don't want to cause Chris more pain. Another part of me desperately wants to see him suffer. I gladly let that part take over, smiling that soon he'll feel as shitty as I do.

"By the way, thanks so much for not mutilating and killing me after we fucked. I guess I really am 'the one'. Or were you saving that for our silver anniversary?"

Grey, dead eyes spark alive with fire, briefly, before his fist flies out. Not toward me, but our mirror images. My grip stops his path seconds before he can shatter the glass.

"Let me go."

It was so easy with Gen. On the surface, we were perfect. Underneath, we never knew each other at all. I loved her, I mourn for her, anything else hardly seemed necessary.


My arms wrap around his massive frame, protective despite my earlier diatribe.


Keller and I are a mess. Yet there's this deep, ugly connection in our souls. It won't die, at this point I don't think it will even if one of us does. Last chance to take the out. Let him go and end the dysfunction.

"I love you, Chris. Do you hear me? I love you."

He eventually stops struggling. Thank Allah and God, a few more minutes and my arms would fall off.

"I've tried being on my own twice. It sucks. I'm not doing it again. The only thing worse than living with you..."

" living without you."

Chris can't forgive me. That's too fucking bad. He still needs me, and I need him. My lips meet his, soft, then eager.

During childhood arguments, locker room boasts, college fights, cross-examinations, power games in the firm, marriage problems, nasty incidents with Vern and other prisoners, I never said as many horrible, hurtful words to another person as I did with Chris tonight. These feelings won't go away, they stay inside us, bottled up, exploding with the wrong word, each deliberately hateful tweak. What I said makes me sick, but I relish the freedom. To say what I want, to hurt this man and still have his hands on my ass. Freedom in pragdom, almost a joke. Too many paradoxes in Keller and my's relationship to consider counting.

His hands clasp mine as we settle in the bottom bunk, tongue and teeth on my ear, cock going in me. Back and forth, scraping his almost-beard against my cheek with each stroke, my hand and his jerking my leaking penis. Delicious madness takes over, wrapping legs around his waist, moaning, biting into his neck as feet push his ass forward. Big toe sneaks into his crack, scraping to drive him as crazy as I am. Sharpest bite ever on my lobe as his pelvis slams forward too many times to count. His juice inside me is all it takes, I hear my own hissing, head banging near the metal frame. Fingers near my mouth, sopping wet, so good and juicy. They fit in my mouth, two at a time, biting and nibbling as I drain my drops.

"Mmmmm baby...ain't even gonna get more than a coupla hours rest."

Almost completely pulled out before the hand on his chest.

"Stay. Please."

He looks at me, and stays. The hacks can fuck themselves, Chris and I are too busy fucking each other to take care of them.

Our problems aren't over, they won't end unless we get dual lobotomies. Going by the calendar, we've still got a few more weeks before the next big blowup. He may be a monster, but he's mine.

For at least 14 days. I think we've earned it.

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