LOOK MA - NO HANDS
By
Riley Cannon
DISCLAIMERS, WARNINGS, ETC.: Oz, the series, and its characters/concepts are the property of Levinson-Fontana Productions, HBO, et al; I am making no money from this.
Pairing: Chris/Toby
Rating: SSS = Sappy/Slushy/Smut
Summary: Chris & Toby take their fun where they can find it. Set anytime after "You Bet Your Life." For the purposes of this story - the author accepts that some sluttish behavior did occur on the part of a certain former lawyer; she remains in denial as regards Serial Keller, however.
Ryan sighed with exasperation and gave Chris a sharp nudge in the ribs. "Hey, do you think you could quit makin’ goo-goo eyes at Beecher for five minutes and pay attention to the game?"
Chris shot Ryan a lethal glare - and sent one Toby’s way, too, for good measure. His lover just smirked back at him, though, and slumped a little further down in his chair. Sometimes Chris kind of missed his old Toby, the one who got all huffy if Chris grabbed his crotch in public. This Toby, the one who’d shaken a whole bunch of hang ups, left him feeling a little off-kilter at times. He wasn’t complaining, mind, not exactly. It was a good thing, knowing Toby really wanted him, wanted this relationship. Not having to try and gauge Toby’s mood swings was really great, no more wondering if this was going to be a, ‘Not tonight, honey, I’ve got a headache,’ kind of night, or a, ‘OK, but only after you jump through all these hoops,’ one. Yeah, that was good, that was great. And Chris most definitely was not complaining. It was just, well, he wasn’t used to being the one getting pounced on. And being the focus of Tobias Beecher’s undivided attention was proving to be a little disconcerting.
And don’t think he doesn’t know it, Chris thought as he tried to get his mind on the game, well aware that Hill and Busmalis were giving him impatient looks, too. That was made abruptly more difficult as he felt someone’s foot touching his ankle. He sent another warning look at his podmate - and knew Toby saw it, even if he was pretending to be all intent on his own cards - and moved his foot away. Toby just looked at him over his cards, sky blue eyes teasing, and that foot snaking forward to find Chris’ again, slowly rubbing back and forth over Chris’ ankle.
Chris couldn’t even retaliate in kind since there was no way he could just unlace and slip off a boot without anyone noticing. All he could do was sit there, looking at his cards and trying not to squirm, as he felt that warm, sock-clad foot slip under the hem of his jeans and find bare skin to caress. He could handle that, though. No big deal. It was going to take a whole lot more than playing a little footsie under the table to get him all hot and bothered.
Resolved to that, Chris sent Toby another look, one that said, You only think you’ve got me where you want me.
For some reason that only made Toby smile even more smugly.
Yep, driving Chris Keller crazy was the most fun Toby’d had since coming to Oz. Who’d have guessed the strapping six-footer was ticklish, for instance? Or that licking him right there, where his ear and jaw met up, could reduce him to a whimpering puddle? Having made up his mind that said Christopher Keller was the object of his desire, Toby approached that objective with the same single-mindedness he brought to everything else, determined that his lover would be in doubt of his affections.
He was tired of debating this, trying to explain it away. Yes, sure, they were in prison and there was a noticeable lack of women, and absolutely, men had urges. Except you didn’t really need anyone else’s hands to take care of those urges. And none of that explained away why a lot of the time he just wanted to share Chris’ space, hear his voice, touch him; how he wished he could just reach across this table and clasp his lover’s hands, lace their fingers together.
He knew Chris wasn’t quite sure what to makes of this apparent shedding of inhibitions - and that was fun, too. Toby had no doubt Chris had been chased by other lovers, that he had been desired; you’d have to practically be a eunuch to be unaffected by the other man, after all. He did have some misgivings, however, about how much concern had ever been spared on satisfying Chris’ needs. Nor did he absolve himself of complicity in that area. He had been happy to take from Chris, to discover that, yes, making love with a man could be an extraordinarily sensual and satisfying experience. But, besides a whole load of grief, he wasn’t sure he had given much back.
Not anymore, he thought, watching Chris try not to squirm as Toby let his foot creep higher. Chris was going to know exactly how much Toby loved him, cherished him. The best thing was, Toby even got to have his cake and eat it, too: he could shower Chris with attention, and still reap some delightful rewards for himself.
Toby slid a little further down in his chair, moving his foot from Chris’ ankle to glide over the strong, denim-covered calf, rubbing the back of his knee for a few moments, before inching on along to his thigh. Slowly, meticulously, Toby stroked his foot along Chris’ inner thigh, inching closer and closer to the ultimate goal, knowing he was probably grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary as he lodged his foot right there, pressing, rubbing against Chris’ crotch, feeling the unmistakable response - seeing it in the dark blue eyes gazing back at him, pupils a little dilated, lips slightly parted, tongue tip wetting them.
Oh yes, Toby thought, sighing happily, he was going to pay for this, all right. In the nicest way possible.
"Keller," Ryan threw down his cards, totally pissed off, "have you got ants in your pants, or something?"
Cyril, as ever hovering at his brother’s shoulder, laughed. "Ants in your pants. That’s funny, Ryan."
"Yeah, it’s fucking hilarious, Cyril. Are you in this game or not, Keller?"
Oh, Chris was in a game all right - but it didn’t have anything to do with playing cards. "Nah, deal me out," he said, pleased his voice came out sounding normal.
"Me, too," Toby said, tossing in his hand - and leaving his foot right where it was.
"Yeah, that’s what I figured," Ryan said, sharing an annoyed look with Hill and Busmalis.
The latter shook his head, sharing a knowing look with Rebadow who’d come over to rubberneck. "Kids these days, huh?"
Rebadow nodded in agreement. "No self-control."
Great, like he and Toby needed those two dried up pussies chastising them.
"Well, somebody better get some," Hill said, inclining his head towards the rapidly approaching Sean Murphy.
So, okay, you couldn’t do anything if a pair of inmates were just sitting there making eyes at each other, Murphy figured. To keep the peace, he was willing to look the other way to some degree, but enough was fucking enough. "You two," he barked at Chris and Toby, "knock it off. Beecher, get your foot back where it belongs - pronto." Geez, the things he put up with around here.
Toby moved his foot, thinking he ought to feel embarrassed, but unable to dredge up the slightest twinge of shame. Nope, he felt like he accomplished his task and only had to await his reward. The look in Chris’ eyes promised it was going to be a good one.
...finis...