slashsmut serial jenna beecher keller


by Jenna

Brush. Spit. Rinse. Eyefuck. My ass is in my bunk, his beside the sink, but Beecher can't keep his eyes on the mirror. Love me, hate me, always undecided aren't ya Toby? Good Chris makes you feel all warm and safe, bad Keller makes you go crazy. Course it wasn't angelic Chris who made you buck and spray like a size queen trapped in the stables.

Sharing space after all we been through. Third time's either a charm or a death wish. Still can't believe McManus put the B/K badass duo back together. Didn't even ask him, just called us in, told us. Must have a burning desire for free pay per view.

Beecher tore out my heart. I'm not shitting around, he pissed all over every bit of niceness I pulled from storage just for him. Me and Beecher weren't gonna be a storybook couple, every relationship I ever had involved scars and brawls. But I thought he knew me better than anyone else ever did. He accepted my flaws and forgave me.

I was okay, no, not okay, *worthy*. I had a man who loved me, and I loved him. First night I sank my dick into that tight, juicy prize, I waited for the post-fuck boredom to set in. Never did. Still hasn't. Too bad he fucked all that up. Supported him, stayed away when he needed it, never even thought about tellin' him all those wails were his own doing. Even though they were.

Situations reversed, I have a feeling Beecher'd make his feelings clear. Not in words, just in that oh so fucking superior look. But my mouth stayed shut. Not good enough. Absolutely no trust. Dried up twat like Sister Pete, Father Mukada, never really expected their backing. But Beecher, he was supposed to be different. Stupid cocksucking psycho. Come at me with a shank and expect me to pretend it's flowers. Never gonna be able to forget that.

When I killed those fags, it was about fear. Denial. This time was pure rage. After Beecher tried to make me his fucking pincushion, I wanted to rip his head off. I didn't, I held back. Wasn't supposed to hold a grudge though, cause he was real sorry. Sometimes he's still such a pussy...thinks sorry solves it all. I'm sorry too, that hasn't done shit. Why should I forget that shank? Cause he got off his high horse after I burned all my bridges and bled in that storage room?

He never realized how much of the real Keller I kept hidden to make his life better. Never noticed the pain he caused when he didn't even believe I loved him best. Maybe Beecher did know, he just didn't give a crap. At least that's human, not that fucking martyr for his sins routine. No room in this pod for a messiah, and if anybody's gonna fill that role, it'll be yours truly.

I screwed him over, broke his bones, pushed to get his acceptance after. Always had the love, but not the man himself. He screwed me over, threw out some half-assed apology, and nothing else. All those who's-plugging-Toby's ass games to get my attention weren't even about me. Just more self-punishment at the hands of the master.

Me and Vern combined never caused Beecher as much pain as Beecher has.

Every bat of the eye and step in his poor little rich prag walk are designed as... whassat word...sadomasochism. Most guys whack off, he bends over for every dick and trauma in sight to get his cream out.

Last night, me and him locked eyes as he climbed in his bunk, still sending out those mixed signals. Ignoring him was the better choice, went back to my most reliable j/o memory, time Kitty and Ange sucked, licked, and girl-on-girled me into a threeway. Said it'd take my mind off losing Bonnie. Fuck yeah.

Too bad that won't work tonight. I roll from bunk to floor, getting up to walk toward Beecher. Sees me, no movement. After the Hole I carried this void where he used to be, prayed it would never go away. It did, one day that need crawled back in my soul, as bad as I want it gone it's dug in. All his Godfucking pals gave me the holy finger, took away the only chance I had left. Only thing left was a return to badness, my oldest friend and sidekick. If he wasn't mine no other fucks needed a piece either.

Everybody knew why those bitches got wasted and who did it. Beecher's reaction mattered most. Under all those layers, I knew he felt some sort of satisfaction. I still cared, what he wanted. Easy to jump him right there, but I waited. Waited until he felt a tiny bit of the pain he put me through.

Water goes off when I twist the knob, eyes meet mine. Those icy blues. So many masks. Fear, hidden excitement, coolness. Daring big, bad Keller to make a move. Always the victim. Least I didn't kill a little girl. Wanna hit him, hurt him, shake him out of his walls. Word after word goes through my head, dying before they meet my mouth. Nothing to say. We've talked and screamed 'til each word is a weapon. Run my fingers over his neck, no response. Can't ENJOY any reunion, better to suffer in Tobyesque silence as I shove my cock up his ass. Nope. No fucking way.

Light shines through, bouncing on me when I lean against the door. Boxers slide down and off. Me and my cock know each other well enough to drive Beecher even crazier. Thumb tracing veins, underside thrumming with good it's easy to forget he's even...nah. Nipples get pinched by the left while the right's busy pulling. Flick that bullet kiss with a long touch, reminds us both of where his tongue used to be.

No reaction in his face, but his shorts can't get enough. Reflection bounces off the glass. Nice. I really am that hot. Fingers brush over abs, me or him's gonna lose it any second. Keeps stepping forward without noticing. Shut my eyes, ready for a helping hand. There we go. Soft Beecher fingers reaching for my tip, swimming in circles of prejizz. OH FUCK JESUS MORE MORE TOBY GRAB BEHIND MY BALLS YEAH OHH SHHHIIIIIITTTTTTTT....

A grin grabs me when he squirms over his suddenly spunky clothes. Still a snob after all these years. I crush our bodies together, chest coated by my own cream. Flash that grin again, all teeth and bullshit, smile he knows too well. His move. Pulls me in 'til our dicks are practically on top of each other, rubbing my face, waiting for anybody but Beecher to act. Finally, mouths meet with his first, unsure kiss.

Lips open, waiting for his silk tongue to work it's way in. It does, teeth nipping across my lower lip. I rifle through his boxers, two fingers shoving up his one size fits all ass. Moans echo in our throats, grasping hands pinching my back on reflex. Break off from that sweet mouth so he can ditch the shirt. Arms over his head, gives me room to explore that lean chest again, hands moving and grabbing in same old patterns.

Beecher drags us toward the bunk, faster in time with my finger fuck. Break away to drop to my knees, yanking his shorts in full view of any eyes. Wish that condescending Allah asshole Said were here instead of the Hole, watching his beloved pupil givin' way to temptation. Wish he were sucking me off, finally find the right use for those incredible lips.

Brush over his balls with slow agony, licking, mouth suckling on one at a time. My free hand circles my cock, harder than ever at Beecher's complete loss of control. Only survivors know this is the position where you got the most power. Just a single warm breath over Beecher's inner thigh and the whimpers start. All for me.

Go to the other thigh, licking up and down, down and up, racing down to taste that space between nuts and ass before he's ready. Lets out a groan, hair wrapped in his hands so I can taste his meat. Nose buried in his dirty blonde pubes, sweet, fresh in spite of the surrounding musk. Bathe base to tip in broad licks, circling over his raging head.

Almost ready, panting, moving back and forth as his prostate gets pushed. Put his dick where his hands are demanding, nipping flesh with my teeth to get a jump. Right on cue. Lucky he doesn't know how Robson felt. Pulls out, glaring even as he hisses. Man has no idea how funny and hot he looks at the same time. Fingers run over his knee backs gently, sigh comes out after. What that sigh does to me.

I grab it again, teasing, rubbing across eyes, nose, lips, throat. Last gets a mangled cry, pink shooting out white all over my stubble. Keeps going and going so long, yelp and scream right before the final load I manage to get down my throat.

His shaky knees sway, takes no effort to get Toby on the floor beside me. Get on top of him, head on his chest. Don't know what the fuck this meant, power trip, cheap release, reconciliation. Maybe all of 'em. Not gonna think about it now.

Cheap Em City lights hit us, can't believe the hacks never broke it up. Stubble gets Toby off, gotta remember this. No wonder he grows the beards.

My Toby. Doesn't hurt as much when I use that word now. Every scumfuck in this place knows who makes him hum, nobody else makes him feel this way. Slight laugh rumbles through him to me, usual post fuck laugh, but different, even more bitter.

Almost forgot about my boner. Rub against his leg, moves with me for friction, yell into his stomach until the shooting's done. Best fuck I've had in weeks. Only fuck I've had in weeks.

Heartbeat thumps beside my ear, not as fast, peaceful as he rubs my neck. Check and checkmate Toby. Still mine, always have been, always gonna be. Question is, am I still his?

Continued in All Talk

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