/How can you mend a broken heart/
/How can a loser ever win/
/How can you stop the rain fr../
Wait. That's not a rhyme, that's a Bee Gees song. Beecher had truly lost his last pillar of support. Work, alcohol, drugs, hate, Islam, Keller (the addiction that refused to go away), and now only cheap, meaningless sex. Perfect for the nightmare surrounding him. He was white, an endangered species in Emerald City. Yet he didn't give a shit. To escape from his thoughts, he sucked and sucked until his jaw ached as much as his soul. Stepping out of a shadow, he saw Adebisi, staring over his castle. Very regal of him. Adebisi would have been the first, if not for his frying pan-fire "rescue" by Schillinger. Some days he mused about his chances for maintaining sanity with Adebisi as a top. The king was a rampaging mess before and after the riot, sexual tactics no better than Schillinger. Probably would have shanked Beecher during a heroin rage. Beecher wished he had, if he had, Gen and Gary might still be alive, Holly might still have a childhood. There he went again, wallowing.
His staring caught Adebisi's eye. A rub across his stomach, inside his loose sweatpants. Beecher shrugged. A grin spread across the dark man's face, sauntering into his pod. Door left wide open. The invitation had been offered and accepted without a word. Signals like a baseball game, with even more crotch grabbing.
Beecher tread those stairs with the numbness of a hooker meeting her..or his last john for that day. He felt more connected to that world than the world he used to know, designer coffee and ties, heartlessness in legal briefs. A few eyes followed him upstairs, Keller's at the very least. Pretending *not* to watch. Fuck you Keller, bet you thought you were special to get in these pants, didn't know there was an open 24 hours sign Crazy-glued to the inseam. Keller was the only soulless specimen of Em City who did care. Sure, Ryan and a few others felt pity, but they never actually took a stand. Most of the homeboys saw him through his podmate's eyes, "sweet meat." Two holes boys, don't worry about the rest of the body.
Taking a short breath, he paused at the entrance, walking into a completely different world. The usual entourage missing, save a few young men. An imperial hand motion sent some little bitch scurrying to close the curtains. White. Adebisi always was an equal-opportunity master, now sitting on the top bunk, legs spread.
"This pod is like a throne room for Caligula."
Adebisi smiled again, lighting the whole room with bliss and fear. Not fear from the great man himself, from others. Except Beecher. What could Adebisi do? Make him suck cock? Fuck him up the ass? Kill him? Amazing, not even a decade ago these were the exact same questions that drove him into the arms of his very own Hitler. Beecher's neutral expression seemed to please Adebisi.
"You and me, we been here a long time."
"I had your ass that first night Beecher, wasted my chance. I regret that to this day."
A paw grabbed his hands, placing them around drawstring pants. Beecher professionally undid them, knuckles rubbing against Adebisi's firm belly. His black torso surged up as Beecher tugged them off, leaving Adebisi completely nude if you didn't count the hat. Not a small penis by any means, not as big as it could have been. The night before he lost his anal virginity, this size would have been like a donkey to him. Lately, after so many shapes, sizes, and colors, he held no such fears. Funny, with old girlfriends, then Gen, Vern, and Keller, Beecher was a one man/woman-man. Now he saw more raging dicks than a proctologist. If it was so funny, where were the laughs?
He took the snake into both hands, charming with caresses. His reward was a grunt, before being nudged away. Thinking this was a part of the game, Beecher smiled a cold smile, sucking in the tip. Fit perfectly in his mouth. Flashes of Robson danced through his head, probably Adebisi's head too. *Never planned for me to suck Prince Adebisi, did you? * Beecher adjusted, running his flat nails over thighs as a few more inches went in. Hairs almost torn out by the roots, reminding him this wasn't for his own pleasure. Applying a slight hint of teeth, Beecher opened a little wider as the startled man let out a sharp moan and shot juice into his mouth. Excess dribbled over his cheeks. Adebisi pulled out, eyes even wilder than before.
"Bad, bad boy."
*At least he doesn't call me 'she'.*
Sperm still in his mouth, ready for the toughest question he had that day, whether or not to swallow. His question had an answer when the black prag appeared beside him, clamping over his mouth. Didn't he used to be a Christian? Beecher had him beat, even as he deposited the cum in his mouth and dueled tongues. Episcopalian *and* Muslim, two religions laid waste by prison.
Finished, only a few hints of exhaustion in his system, he and the younger man met Adebisi's gaze simultaneously. No, they had more to do before he let them go. Beecher licked away the last bits of seed in the boy's mouth. Oh well, nowhere else to go anyway. At least here he got more nutritious meals than the cafeteria provided.
Those two feet jumped to the floor. Time for round two. A flick of Adebisi's toothpick and four hands were over Beecher's body, removing his shoes and jacket, pulling his shirt over his head, his response muffled through cotton.
"I can do this myself."
Bare-chested and vision restored, he saw Adebisi walking toward the CD player. He even had a CD player.
"That is what they are here for. Music?"
Nervous black fingers pressed on his fly. Music to fuck by. Good idea for a compilation...'Best of Prison Rape, Vol. 2'
"Got any Kool & the Gang?"
"Put on Jungle Boogie."
A hearty laugh and thump of the chest.
"Very funny! Too few with a pale face have a sense of humor in Emerald City."
White fingers pulling his boxers off, running down his ass...large hand smacked them away.
The music began, accompanied by Adebisi circling around him, licking his lips. The prags were shooed to a corner, Adebisi running his hands all over this new body. A new toy for his collection.
"Nice. Need to gain a few pounds."
"You sound like my mother."
A hand grabbed his chin, cupping his face. Rough thumbs brushed into his cheeks.
"Bet your mother never did theeeees."
Strong, deadly arms wrapped around him, mouth forcing his lips apart. Beecher explored with his own hands, cupping such a nice ass (see, Chris isn't the only one...don't start thinking about Keller) as Adebisi's monstrous tongue almost tore out a few fillings.
Their lips broke apart. Dicks playing tag, Adebisi's very much recovered. Beecher tried not to shiver at the single nail sliding down his neck, shoulder blades, spine, into the crack of his ass. Probing. With a second finger came extra pressure, a tongue. His knees almost buckled. Sucking and fucking, normal part of the day, leave it to Adebisi to add a few kinks. Through it all was the commanding expression on Adebisi's face. He knew who ran the show, he made each and every decision. A part of Beecher envied that self-control, what he always lacked.
Loose and wet, Adebisi turned him around, pressing his frame against the sink. White hands gripping porcelain, Beecher's eye caught the mirror. His precise reflection as Adebisi penetrated him. Grit of the teeth, fatigued blue eyes growing a little more dull, man behind him squirming and grunting. Shoving in sync with the music now. Today was a first, how many times could he claim to getting his ass plowed in time to Ladies Night? A hand stayed on his hip, the other joined Beecher's, encircled for support. It was a very rare moment when Beecher knew his place in the world.
He jolted forward with a moan as his prostate got hit, cock twinging slightly in response. Knees ached, trying his best to keep them from banging against pipes. Been here for a moment, or for an hour, hard to tell. Really should pull Adebisi's cock out, but his hands stayed where they were. Whatever happened to Beecher as a result, he deserved. Finally, the mirror bounced back images of his fucker in complete ecstasy, head lolled back. He felt the cream between his legs, filling him and giving him next to no pleasure. Adebisi licked at his neck as he came down, reminding Beecher of a nature special. Hunter and prey, captured together. After Adebisi left him, Beecher laid on the bottom bunk, feet forbidding him to walk more than a few steps.
Adebisi washed himself, body shaking in rhythm by the mirror.
"You and I have changed very much Beecher."
Beechah. Always pronounced his name Beecah. Better than Toby.
"If I had still been cherry you'd be in heaven right now."
"Maybe." Shrug of his broad shoulders.
"Do you wish you'd fucked me the first night?"
"Yeah. No matter now. Wimpy, crazy, in 'love', crazy, and I still got you. That is an incredible accomplishment. And I will have you again."
Beecher's eyes went to Adebisi's boys, wearing blue and green fishnet halters with shorts of the same color, waiting for their next command. Fishnet made him shudder ever since his sole concert appearance in drag. He looked at his own nude body, stretched on the white sheets.
"I don't meet the wardrobe requirements."
Adebisi glanced from his sluttily clad prags to Beecher's discarded black pants, grey shirt and blue warm-up jacket. He closed the gap between them, cool hand on Beecher's belly making him jump.
"You do right now."
All the banter, spent cocks and energy, but Beecher could feel the demons beginning to whisper in his ear again. He sat, then stood up, prepared to leave. A hand on his shoulder, those brown eyes stopped him. Quick finger motion and the white boy came to them, pulling off his clothes.
It took a moment for Beecher to realize Adebisi wanted *him* to do the fucking.
"Bonus for....prag seniority."
A laugh rumbled from his massive chest.
Beecher looked at the boy, probably only about 10 years older than Gary. His innocence had been taken too, and Beecher felt the bile rise at the thought of being another factor in warping him.
"Can't I just have a toaster instead?"
No laugh that time.
"Suck Beecher off."
The boy went between his legs, practiced lips making a part of Beecher forget all over again, silent as he came in junior prag's mouth.
Certainly a different day, but in too many ways the same as the rest. As he pulled on his boxers, Adebisi opened the door, signaling his departure. Beecher looked out, nearly dressed. Said. Said cared about him, Beecher had forgotten about him in his earlier list. Now he looked at them from his own pod, disgusted by what he saw. From the first time they truly spoke, in that study room, Beecher felt a connection to Said he felt to very few others. Said tried time and again to show him the path to redemption. Failed every time. A thought passed through Beecher's head, wicked, unfair, but he had to. As he neared the exit, he grabbed Adebisi's head, passionately kissing him, letting Adebisi take over his mouth once again. As they parted, Beecher ran a finger over his cheek.
"Congratulations. You've conquered the world."
Curtain and door shut behind him, Beecher's eyes scanned Em City. Keller allowed him a millisecond of a glare before he slammed a card down. Mondo licked his lips in anticipation. And Said, his last true friend, had his back turned. Beecher had been very unkind. But that hatred shot into him the way heroin, Keller, booze used to. He could keep going for a few more minutes. It was worth it.