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drsquidloveSomeone Like You
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 3017
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 9: Basketball
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 8, Friendship:
Elliot grumped at Toby for digging up Ian Tate, and then thanked him. Warm fuzzies turned sour when the subject of the death penalty arose. Elliot's dinner with the twins wasn't fun. Their bickering might have been because Dickie had a crush on a girl, or maybe they're just friends, Kathy should stop making such a big deal out of it... Meanwhile, Toby's family were making a big deal out of him having a guy friend, and Toby realised he owed his mother a little more trust.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot felt like an idiot as he climbed the stairs of Toby's brownstone, basketball under his arm, but he was sure this was a good idea. Pretty sure. He probably should have called, but Toby had said yesterday he didn't have any plans, and when Elliot got a look at the weather he just picked up the ball and drove down on a whim, and here he was.
Toby answered the door in sweats and ratty old t-shirt, glasses perched on his nose, cleaning rag in his hand. "Elliot?"
"Want to come out and play?"
Toby stared at him like he'd gone crazy.
"Come on. Cragen tied me to my desk for the entire shift yesterday to catch up on paperwork, and I know you're just inside moping while Holly's at your mother's. And have you seen the sun out here? It's in the low seventies. It's spring!"
Toby eyed the ball. He probably hadn't looked outside all day. "What makes you think I play basketball?"
"Everybody plays basketball."
Toby just looked at him.
"Back at Sisters of Mercy, Sister Mary told us anytime we had impure thoughts, we should go outside and shoot hoops. That's why every house in America has a hoop."
"Catholic houses, maybe. I was raised Episcopalian. We didn't talk about impure thoughts."
Elliot was starting to feel like an idiot. "You really don't play basketball?"
Toby laughed, eyes crinkling behind his glasses. "I know the basics. C'mon, I'll go get changed."
He left the door wide, looking back over his shoulder. "Do you actually have casual clothes on?"
"No, I have a collar shirt and tie under this windbreaker."
Toby snorted as he disappeared into his bedroom, leaving Elliot to make his own way in. It was strange to realise Toby had never seen him in anything else. He'd always been on his way home from work.
Elliot dropped the ball on the couch, unzipped and peeled off his jacket. He'd be warm enough in his tank top once they started running around. He checked that Toby was still out of view before he picked up the photo that had caught his eye the last time he visited. The family were in a hospital bed: a skinny, geeky, bespectacled Toby and his pretty wife staring down at the newborn in her arms, little Holly and Gary perched on the side, smiling for the camera. Every family had a photo like this. Elliot's did. None of these people had any idea of the wreckage lying in wait. Two of them were dead, now. Elliot's heart ached.
"I don't have any tank tops, is this okay?"
Elliot put the photo down and stepped away as Toby came out in long shorts and a fresh t-shirt, glasses switched for contacts. "So you do own shorts."
Toby's face turned sober, and he reached out to touch Elliot's shoulder, let his fingers slide down the tattoo.
Elliot shivered. "What is it?" He made himself stay still.
Toby looked haunted. "I knew someone with something just like it."
"Catholic?"
He forced a little smile. "God complex." He turned away and took a second longer than he needed to grab his keys. "I hope you're not expecting me to be a decent match for you. I was more of a chess kid." The subject of the anonymous friend was locked away with the rest of Toby's secrets. The man could talk about harrowing experiences like he was discussing the weather, and it made Elliot shudder to imagine what Toby couldn't speak aloud.
"You aren't built like a chess kid."
Toby blinked, and Elliot kicked himself. It was just a comment, not a flirt, but after the way Toby just touched him, with the stuff Kathy said still in his head... Something about Toby made Elliot say stupid things. He'd noticed Toby's eyes travelling over him, and he had to remind himself not to act like a homophobe.
"Enough, I'm coming." Toby locked the door behind him and followed Elliot down the stairs. "I never suspected you had such a pathetic wet puppy look hidden beneath all that surliness."
Elliot looked at him sideways. "I don't think that was a compliment."
Toby patted his back. "You should use it more often. Might get you further than the bristling and intimidation."
"I use it sparingly, to retain its power."
Toby chuckled, and Elliot couldn't help his grin. He held the door open for Toby to go through first, and almost ploughed into the back of him on the stoop. Toby barely noticed. He'd lifted his face, eyes slitting in the sun. His hand curled over the rail, holding tight.
"Are you all right? Toby?"
It took a long moment and a long breath before Toby answered, a quiet voice like he was standing in church. "The last time I felt sun like this, I was a lawyer with a family. I don't know what I took most for granted."
Elliot couldn't help feeling it: the air was cool in the shade but the sun was warm on his skin, the sort of sure warmth that woke plants and filled your bones, reminded you what spring felt like. Even if it had been eight years since your last. He waited, quiet, until another resident coming in disturbed Toby's reverie. Toby and the woman exchanged greetings, and then Toby looked back at Elliot, sheepishly biting his lip. "Sorry."
Elliot didn't need an apology. He almost felt like he should be apologising, or thanking Toby for letting him intrude. "I won't take the sun for granted for a good long while. Come on. Let's play some ball."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Toby had been bluffing his skills. He couldn't shoot for shit, but he wasn't afraid to put his body in the mix. He was faster and way more solid than Elliot had given him credit for, and when he held his ground he was immovable. Instead of the easy knockabout Elliot had expected when they made their way onto the court, in ten minutes the gloves were off and they'd gone full contact, throwing their weight and the occasional elbow into each other, the pair of them panting and wiping the sweat out of their eyes, grinning like schoolboys.
And then they went at it again, racing the ball around the half-court until they were both bent over, hands on their knees, chasing their breath.
"You done?"
"Not even close." Elliot bounced the ball to Toby and chased him, darted in front when Toby feinted but Toby ducked under Elliot's arm and jumped. His shot glanced off the hoop and Elliot went for it and Toby knocked him flat to the ground.
"Shit, are you okay?" He reached down and they locked hands, Toby hauling Elliot to his feet like he weighed half what he did, hand holding on until Elliot was well and truly steady.
Elliot took his hand back and brushed the gravel off his palms. "Not a lot of men have put me on my ass."
Toby ducked his head. "Games in the prison gym weren't exactly strictly refereed. Seriously, are you okay?"
Elliot waved him off. "Plenty have tried." He caught the ball Toby threw.
"I'm pretty sure that counted as a foul."
The game resumed, past exhaustion until they were both fumbling the ball and missing shots, bodies aching, drunk on the game. Elliot hadn't had this much fun in ages. Toby was laughing, right in Elliot's face, smile wide and eyes wrinkling as he pushed forward, chest pressed to Elliot's chest. Elliot thought about kissing him.
Toby's eyes dropped to Elliot's mouth and Elliot realised he had his lip caught in his teeth.
He let go of his lip and took a step back, lifted his tank top to wipe the sweat from his face. When he put it back down, Toby was three feet further away and lifting his t-shirt to do the same, and Elliot got an eyeful of glistening abs.
Elliot had to swallow a couple of times to get the moisture back in his mouth. What the hell just happened?
He swung the ball out of Toby's reach and turned, took a shot and missed, even though Toby hadn't moved. Toby wandered over and then they were back on it, but not as physical as before, not laughing quite as easily.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
They climbed the stairs, still breathing too hard to talk. Thank god. Toby was too keyed up to speak. He led the way straight to the kitchen. "You want ice?"
"Nah."
Toby filled a glass from the tap and pushed it towards Elliot, filled a second and drank, swallowing gratefully until he reached the bottom and then wiping an arm across his mouth. Prison manners: his mother would be appalled.
Elliot looked a little appalled. That was good. Chris never looked appalled by anything. Toby really, really needed them to be different men right now. He needed Elliot to put on a shirt and a tie, cover that tattoo, stop sweating, start talking about justice or his kids. Or it would be fine with Toby if he said, "Surprise, it's me, Tobe," and started tearing off Toby's clothes.
Toby faced the counter to hide the tent pole in his shorts. "Sorry. Next time I'll think to grab a couple of bottles to take down there."
"Yeah." Elliot looked away.
It wasn't Toby's manners putting Elliot off. It was what happened on the court.
The game had run out of steam the moment Toby froze, caught in Chris's gaze. Elliot had seen Toby's eyes fall, and he'd known what Toby was thinking. Toby stared down into the sink, fighting the urge to explain, apologise. The best thing was probably to just pretend it never happened, like Elliot did.
Even now this was too much Chris Keller, filling Toby's kitchen, sweat-drenched tank clinging to that moulded chest. That tattoo, like the punchline on a terrible cosmic joke.
Down on the court, Elliot had thrown himself into game - thrown himself into Toby. All Elliot's reserve had washed away and Toby's world was filled with Chris's scent, his skin and sweat and burning blue eyes, that powerful body let loose. The solid wall of chest and the bulging arms and the competitive grin like a shot of heroin straight to the vein. That was how you fucked with the lights on in Oz; you wrestled or played ball with your whole body against his until the guards called you off for count, and then you got drunk on the anticipation through the final hours until the lights went off and you could wrestle him to the bed and suck down his cock.
Elliot was drinking, eyes closed, head tipped back, long throat bobbing. His skin glistened, sparse dark hair clinging in the scoop of his top. Toby needed Elliot to put more clothes on before he did something stupid. If he just let his knees give way... What guy didn't want his cock sucked? Toby could blow Elliot so good he wouldn't move an inch until he was done. And then Toby would never see Elliot again.
"Do you want to get a shower? I doubt I've got any pants that would fit you, but I'm sure I can dig out a t-shirt."
Panic flashed through Elliot's eyes. "Nah. I'll just head home to get cleaned up. Guess I should have thought it through and brought more than the ball."
"Next time. That was fun. I haven't worked out like that in a long time. I'm going to feel it tomorrow."
Elliot gave him a nod and headed out, and Toby sagged against the counter, wondering if that sounded half as unnatural as it felt. He downed another half a glass of water. He'd been doing so much better lately. Elliot was just Elliot. Not a ghost or a thief. Maybe Toby still sometimes caught his breath at a familiar brooding glare or satisfied smirk, but those were just moments.
Today... it was a miracle Elliot hadn't noticed his hard-on earlier.
He went to the bathroom and threw the water to scalding, dumped his sweaty clothes on the floor and climbed in, let the water burn. Seeing that tattoo stretch down Elliot's bicep had sent him spinning back to that cramped, stifling cell, the week-old stench of sweat and sex and the only peace he felt in eight years. He wanted Chris. He missed Chris. So fucking much. Toby's breath caught sideways in his throat. To have him here Toby would have forgiven anything, everything all over again, would have got on his knees with his face in Chris's crotch and begged forgiveness for every day he'd ever turned his back on him, would have begged Chris to fuck him and own him, to grope him in front of the other prisoners, to kill whomever pleased him, whatever he needed to know that Toby was his.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot was rattled.
He sat in his car and stared at the basketball he'd dumped on the passenger seat. What the hell just happened?
Elliot didn't want Toby. That was absurd. No urge whatsoever to stick his hands down Toby's pants. He just liked hanging with the guy. Loved playing basketball with him. He liked the unselfconscious way Toby touched his back to guide or congratulate him, and Elliot had been trying to be a little more open like that himself. He liked touching Toby. He'd wanted to touch his chest today when they were playing, find out if it was as firm as it looked. Elliot wanted to trace his collar bone.
He'd wanted to kiss him.
God, he really did.
Elliot rubbed his hands through his hair. No way. This was ridiculous. He imagined pulling Toby close and planting one on him, waited for the revulsion to come but instead heat spread through his gut like whiskey.
So he didn't want to know anything about Toby's cock but he did get a stirring when he thought about touching the guy's skin? Maybe Kathy hadn't been so far off about those confused hormones.
Elliot still loved Kathy. He still thought of her when he jerked off, still thought, maybe one day they could fix things...
No. No damned way. Is this what happened when you didn't get laid in a long time? It had been a long, long time since he and Kathy slept together, and he'd never even tried to find someone else. The paperwork was done and he had every right to go looking, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to go trawling through awkward first dates, or worse, hook up with some stranger for a one night stand. He wasn't that guy.
He wanted Kathy. He wanted to touch her breasts, bury his face between her thighs, rub her scent into his skin and make her gasp. He wanted to hold her afterwards, feel her head against his chest.
He wondered how it would feel to hold Toby.
This is what divorce did to you. It screwed everything up, made you crazy. Elliot hadn't hugged anyone but his kids since... God. It had been eighteen months. Maybe two years. Maybe this wasn't such a mystery. Toby was good company and maybe with him being gay Elliot was less... he didn't know. Less something. He hoped Toby hadn't picked up on it.
Sure: no way gay, perceptive Toby would pick up on Elliot eyeing him up.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It had been days since Toby saw or heard from Elliot. Hardly a surprise. Elliot had probably moved to Nebraska.
But Toby's body didn't believe it. The primal ache Chris had stirred was awake again, craving, and it wouldn't be persuaded that Elliot wasn't the drug it needed.
That one frozen moment had left Toby awash in memory for days. He'd jerked off until his cock was raw, worked his fingers in his own ass, replaying one fuck after another. He remembered every single time, but there was one he kept coming back to.
After two weeks of lockdown they'd definitely passed the honeymoon phase. They were snapping and sniping, and that first step out of the pod had been like breathing freedom.
Eating in the dining hall, chatting with Sister Pete and Said and even Busmalis and Rebadow had been a relief, but by lunchtime he was already missing Chris, head filled with random thoughts and stupid observations that he was used to dropping from his mind to Chris's ear, cock starved for attention, heart pounding with fear that Chris would find something or someone else to capture his interest now they were loose.
The fear was extinguished when Chris dropped his lunch tray of cheese sandwich and room-temperature milk across from Toby's and stared at him with the very same look he always had when Toby was about to sink inside him.
Toby had pressed his foot to Chris's under the table, and they'd smiled.
And that night. That night they came together like starving men, Chris begging Toby to fuck him, to fuck him harder, to stay inside him always.
It had tipped Toby's world on its side, discovering how much Chris loved being fucked up the ass. From their first night, the first time Chris rolled on his belly and demanded Toby get inside him, Toby had to re-imagine his whole idea of Chris. And of getting fucked up the ass. Chris never pressed to fuck Toby until Toby shyly suggested it. Toby had assumed Chris was bottoming to get Toby used to the idea, until Chris showed him just how different it was when the guy fucking you was doing it for your pleasure.
Toby's cock wanted Elliot to roll on his belly, to beg for it. Toby's cock wanted Elliot to stop pretending to be the buttoned-down cop and show his balls. Down on the court he'd finally found that piece of Chris he'd been hungering for since Elliot stepped out of the car outside Franco's, and Toby wanted to tear the rest away.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
end chapter 9
Dr Squidlove clutches feedback tight with all tentacles. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured. Here or at drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 3017
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 9: Basketball
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 8, Friendship:
Elliot grumped at Toby for digging up Ian Tate, and then thanked him. Warm fuzzies turned sour when the subject of the death penalty arose. Elliot's dinner with the twins wasn't fun. Their bickering might have been because Dickie had a crush on a girl, or maybe they're just friends, Kathy should stop making such a big deal out of it... Meanwhile, Toby's family were making a big deal out of him having a guy friend, and Toby realised he owed his mother a little more trust.
Elliot felt like an idiot as he climbed the stairs of Toby's brownstone, basketball under his arm, but he was sure this was a good idea. Pretty sure. He probably should have called, but Toby had said yesterday he didn't have any plans, and when Elliot got a look at the weather he just picked up the ball and drove down on a whim, and here he was.
Toby answered the door in sweats and ratty old t-shirt, glasses perched on his nose, cleaning rag in his hand. "Elliot?"
"Want to come out and play?"
Toby stared at him like he'd gone crazy.
"Come on. Cragen tied me to my desk for the entire shift yesterday to catch up on paperwork, and I know you're just inside moping while Holly's at your mother's. And have you seen the sun out here? It's in the low seventies. It's spring!"
Toby eyed the ball. He probably hadn't looked outside all day. "What makes you think I play basketball?"
"Everybody plays basketball."
Toby just looked at him.
"Back at Sisters of Mercy, Sister Mary told us anytime we had impure thoughts, we should go outside and shoot hoops. That's why every house in America has a hoop."
"Catholic houses, maybe. I was raised Episcopalian. We didn't talk about impure thoughts."
Elliot was starting to feel like an idiot. "You really don't play basketball?"
Toby laughed, eyes crinkling behind his glasses. "I know the basics. C'mon, I'll go get changed."
He left the door wide, looking back over his shoulder. "Do you actually have casual clothes on?"
"No, I have a collar shirt and tie under this windbreaker."
Toby snorted as he disappeared into his bedroom, leaving Elliot to make his own way in. It was strange to realise Toby had never seen him in anything else. He'd always been on his way home from work.
Elliot dropped the ball on the couch, unzipped and peeled off his jacket. He'd be warm enough in his tank top once they started running around. He checked that Toby was still out of view before he picked up the photo that had caught his eye the last time he visited. The family were in a hospital bed: a skinny, geeky, bespectacled Toby and his pretty wife staring down at the newborn in her arms, little Holly and Gary perched on the side, smiling for the camera. Every family had a photo like this. Elliot's did. None of these people had any idea of the wreckage lying in wait. Two of them were dead, now. Elliot's heart ached.
"I don't have any tank tops, is this okay?"
Elliot put the photo down and stepped away as Toby came out in long shorts and a fresh t-shirt, glasses switched for contacts. "So you do own shorts."
Toby's face turned sober, and he reached out to touch Elliot's shoulder, let his fingers slide down the tattoo.
Elliot shivered. "What is it?" He made himself stay still.
Toby looked haunted. "I knew someone with something just like it."
"Catholic?"
He forced a little smile. "God complex." He turned away and took a second longer than he needed to grab his keys. "I hope you're not expecting me to be a decent match for you. I was more of a chess kid." The subject of the anonymous friend was locked away with the rest of Toby's secrets. The man could talk about harrowing experiences like he was discussing the weather, and it made Elliot shudder to imagine what Toby couldn't speak aloud.
"You aren't built like a chess kid."
Toby blinked, and Elliot kicked himself. It was just a comment, not a flirt, but after the way Toby just touched him, with the stuff Kathy said still in his head... Something about Toby made Elliot say stupid things. He'd noticed Toby's eyes travelling over him, and he had to remind himself not to act like a homophobe.
"Enough, I'm coming." Toby locked the door behind him and followed Elliot down the stairs. "I never suspected you had such a pathetic wet puppy look hidden beneath all that surliness."
Elliot looked at him sideways. "I don't think that was a compliment."
Toby patted his back. "You should use it more often. Might get you further than the bristling and intimidation."
"I use it sparingly, to retain its power."
Toby chuckled, and Elliot couldn't help his grin. He held the door open for Toby to go through first, and almost ploughed into the back of him on the stoop. Toby barely noticed. He'd lifted his face, eyes slitting in the sun. His hand curled over the rail, holding tight.
"Are you all right? Toby?"
It took a long moment and a long breath before Toby answered, a quiet voice like he was standing in church. "The last time I felt sun like this, I was a lawyer with a family. I don't know what I took most for granted."
Elliot couldn't help feeling it: the air was cool in the shade but the sun was warm on his skin, the sort of sure warmth that woke plants and filled your bones, reminded you what spring felt like. Even if it had been eight years since your last. He waited, quiet, until another resident coming in disturbed Toby's reverie. Toby and the woman exchanged greetings, and then Toby looked back at Elliot, sheepishly biting his lip. "Sorry."
Elliot didn't need an apology. He almost felt like he should be apologising, or thanking Toby for letting him intrude. "I won't take the sun for granted for a good long while. Come on. Let's play some ball."
Toby had been bluffing his skills. He couldn't shoot for shit, but he wasn't afraid to put his body in the mix. He was faster and way more solid than Elliot had given him credit for, and when he held his ground he was immovable. Instead of the easy knockabout Elliot had expected when they made their way onto the court, in ten minutes the gloves were off and they'd gone full contact, throwing their weight and the occasional elbow into each other, the pair of them panting and wiping the sweat out of their eyes, grinning like schoolboys.
And then they went at it again, racing the ball around the half-court until they were both bent over, hands on their knees, chasing their breath.
"You done?"
"Not even close." Elliot bounced the ball to Toby and chased him, darted in front when Toby feinted but Toby ducked under Elliot's arm and jumped. His shot glanced off the hoop and Elliot went for it and Toby knocked him flat to the ground.
"Shit, are you okay?" He reached down and they locked hands, Toby hauling Elliot to his feet like he weighed half what he did, hand holding on until Elliot was well and truly steady.
Elliot took his hand back and brushed the gravel off his palms. "Not a lot of men have put me on my ass."
Toby ducked his head. "Games in the prison gym weren't exactly strictly refereed. Seriously, are you okay?"
Elliot waved him off. "Plenty have tried." He caught the ball Toby threw.
"I'm pretty sure that counted as a foul."
The game resumed, past exhaustion until they were both fumbling the ball and missing shots, bodies aching, drunk on the game. Elliot hadn't had this much fun in ages. Toby was laughing, right in Elliot's face, smile wide and eyes wrinkling as he pushed forward, chest pressed to Elliot's chest. Elliot thought about kissing him.
Toby's eyes dropped to Elliot's mouth and Elliot realised he had his lip caught in his teeth.
He let go of his lip and took a step back, lifted his tank top to wipe the sweat from his face. When he put it back down, Toby was three feet further away and lifting his t-shirt to do the same, and Elliot got an eyeful of glistening abs.
Elliot had to swallow a couple of times to get the moisture back in his mouth. What the hell just happened?
He swung the ball out of Toby's reach and turned, took a shot and missed, even though Toby hadn't moved. Toby wandered over and then they were back on it, but not as physical as before, not laughing quite as easily.
They climbed the stairs, still breathing too hard to talk. Thank god. Toby was too keyed up to speak. He led the way straight to the kitchen. "You want ice?"
"Nah."
Toby filled a glass from the tap and pushed it towards Elliot, filled a second and drank, swallowing gratefully until he reached the bottom and then wiping an arm across his mouth. Prison manners: his mother would be appalled.
Elliot looked a little appalled. That was good. Chris never looked appalled by anything. Toby really, really needed them to be different men right now. He needed Elliot to put on a shirt and a tie, cover that tattoo, stop sweating, start talking about justice or his kids. Or it would be fine with Toby if he said, "Surprise, it's me, Tobe," and started tearing off Toby's clothes.
Toby faced the counter to hide the tent pole in his shorts. "Sorry. Next time I'll think to grab a couple of bottles to take down there."
"Yeah." Elliot looked away.
It wasn't Toby's manners putting Elliot off. It was what happened on the court.
The game had run out of steam the moment Toby froze, caught in Chris's gaze. Elliot had seen Toby's eyes fall, and he'd known what Toby was thinking. Toby stared down into the sink, fighting the urge to explain, apologise. The best thing was probably to just pretend it never happened, like Elliot did.
Even now this was too much Chris Keller, filling Toby's kitchen, sweat-drenched tank clinging to that moulded chest. That tattoo, like the punchline on a terrible cosmic joke.
Down on the court, Elliot had thrown himself into game - thrown himself into Toby. All Elliot's reserve had washed away and Toby's world was filled with Chris's scent, his skin and sweat and burning blue eyes, that powerful body let loose. The solid wall of chest and the bulging arms and the competitive grin like a shot of heroin straight to the vein. That was how you fucked with the lights on in Oz; you wrestled or played ball with your whole body against his until the guards called you off for count, and then you got drunk on the anticipation through the final hours until the lights went off and you could wrestle him to the bed and suck down his cock.
Elliot was drinking, eyes closed, head tipped back, long throat bobbing. His skin glistened, sparse dark hair clinging in the scoop of his top. Toby needed Elliot to put more clothes on before he did something stupid. If he just let his knees give way... What guy didn't want his cock sucked? Toby could blow Elliot so good he wouldn't move an inch until he was done. And then Toby would never see Elliot again.
"Do you want to get a shower? I doubt I've got any pants that would fit you, but I'm sure I can dig out a t-shirt."
Panic flashed through Elliot's eyes. "Nah. I'll just head home to get cleaned up. Guess I should have thought it through and brought more than the ball."
"Next time. That was fun. I haven't worked out like that in a long time. I'm going to feel it tomorrow."
Elliot gave him a nod and headed out, and Toby sagged against the counter, wondering if that sounded half as unnatural as it felt. He downed another half a glass of water. He'd been doing so much better lately. Elliot was just Elliot. Not a ghost or a thief. Maybe Toby still sometimes caught his breath at a familiar brooding glare or satisfied smirk, but those were just moments.
Today... it was a miracle Elliot hadn't noticed his hard-on earlier.
He went to the bathroom and threw the water to scalding, dumped his sweaty clothes on the floor and climbed in, let the water burn. Seeing that tattoo stretch down Elliot's bicep had sent him spinning back to that cramped, stifling cell, the week-old stench of sweat and sex and the only peace he felt in eight years. He wanted Chris. He missed Chris. So fucking much. Toby's breath caught sideways in his throat. To have him here Toby would have forgiven anything, everything all over again, would have got on his knees with his face in Chris's crotch and begged forgiveness for every day he'd ever turned his back on him, would have begged Chris to fuck him and own him, to grope him in front of the other prisoners, to kill whomever pleased him, whatever he needed to know that Toby was his.
Elliot was rattled.
He sat in his car and stared at the basketball he'd dumped on the passenger seat. What the hell just happened?
Elliot didn't want Toby. That was absurd. No urge whatsoever to stick his hands down Toby's pants. He just liked hanging with the guy. Loved playing basketball with him. He liked the unselfconscious way Toby touched his back to guide or congratulate him, and Elliot had been trying to be a little more open like that himself. He liked touching Toby. He'd wanted to touch his chest today when they were playing, find out if it was as firm as it looked. Elliot wanted to trace his collar bone.
He'd wanted to kiss him.
God, he really did.
Elliot rubbed his hands through his hair. No way. This was ridiculous. He imagined pulling Toby close and planting one on him, waited for the revulsion to come but instead heat spread through his gut like whiskey.
So he didn't want to know anything about Toby's cock but he did get a stirring when he thought about touching the guy's skin? Maybe Kathy hadn't been so far off about those confused hormones.
Elliot still loved Kathy. He still thought of her when he jerked off, still thought, maybe one day they could fix things...
No. No damned way. Is this what happened when you didn't get laid in a long time? It had been a long, long time since he and Kathy slept together, and he'd never even tried to find someone else. The paperwork was done and he had every right to go looking, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to go trawling through awkward first dates, or worse, hook up with some stranger for a one night stand. He wasn't that guy.
He wanted Kathy. He wanted to touch her breasts, bury his face between her thighs, rub her scent into his skin and make her gasp. He wanted to hold her afterwards, feel her head against his chest.
He wondered how it would feel to hold Toby.
This is what divorce did to you. It screwed everything up, made you crazy. Elliot hadn't hugged anyone but his kids since... God. It had been eighteen months. Maybe two years. Maybe this wasn't such a mystery. Toby was good company and maybe with him being gay Elliot was less... he didn't know. Less something. He hoped Toby hadn't picked up on it.
Sure: no way gay, perceptive Toby would pick up on Elliot eyeing him up.
It had been days since Toby saw or heard from Elliot. Hardly a surprise. Elliot had probably moved to Nebraska.
But Toby's body didn't believe it. The primal ache Chris had stirred was awake again, craving, and it wouldn't be persuaded that Elliot wasn't the drug it needed.
That one frozen moment had left Toby awash in memory for days. He'd jerked off until his cock was raw, worked his fingers in his own ass, replaying one fuck after another. He remembered every single time, but there was one he kept coming back to.
After two weeks of lockdown they'd definitely passed the honeymoon phase. They were snapping and sniping, and that first step out of the pod had been like breathing freedom.
Eating in the dining hall, chatting with Sister Pete and Said and even Busmalis and Rebadow had been a relief, but by lunchtime he was already missing Chris, head filled with random thoughts and stupid observations that he was used to dropping from his mind to Chris's ear, cock starved for attention, heart pounding with fear that Chris would find something or someone else to capture his interest now they were loose.
The fear was extinguished when Chris dropped his lunch tray of cheese sandwich and room-temperature milk across from Toby's and stared at him with the very same look he always had when Toby was about to sink inside him.
Toby had pressed his foot to Chris's under the table, and they'd smiled.
And that night. That night they came together like starving men, Chris begging Toby to fuck him, to fuck him harder, to stay inside him always.
It had tipped Toby's world on its side, discovering how much Chris loved being fucked up the ass. From their first night, the first time Chris rolled on his belly and demanded Toby get inside him, Toby had to re-imagine his whole idea of Chris. And of getting fucked up the ass. Chris never pressed to fuck Toby until Toby shyly suggested it. Toby had assumed Chris was bottoming to get Toby used to the idea, until Chris showed him just how different it was when the guy fucking you was doing it for your pleasure.
Toby's cock wanted Elliot to roll on his belly, to beg for it. Toby's cock wanted Elliot to stop pretending to be the buttoned-down cop and show his balls. Down on the court he'd finally found that piece of Chris he'd been hungering for since Elliot stepped out of the car outside Franco's, and Toby wanted to tear the rest away.
end chapter 9
Dr Squidlove clutches feedback tight with all tentacles. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured. Here or at drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.
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no subject
Date: 2014-10-20 04:16 pm (UTC)"Want to come out and play?"
Toby stared at him like he'd gone crazy.
LOL!
And cue sexual tension! What will the guys do now?
no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 10:46 am (UTC)Ah, I don't know. Find some way to bury their feelings and act like everything's fine and burn up in frustration?
Something like that, probably. Tee-hee!
Thanks mulder!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-20 04:37 pm (UTC)Wow, that moment on the steps with Toby basking in the sun said more in a few words that whole paragraphs of exposition - gorgeous moment.
And talking about moments with few words - wow, that moment at the end of the game was just, well Wow!
Oh these boys, they are both having little mental meltdowns.
And this...Down on the court he'd finally found that piece of Chris he'd been hungering for since Elliot stepped out of the car outside Franco's, and Toby wanted to tear the rest away. Well, I can feel a little mini shoe starting its descent from the heavens - oh boy...
no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 10:50 am (UTC)Wheeee, thank you! That moment on the steps was a later addition, when I was reading through and realised it was profoundly absent. So I'm happy it worked.
The game, on the other hand... that moment was there from a very early draft...
Toby misses Chris, y'know. How could that possibly go wrong? La, la, la.
Thank you sparrow!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-20 05:24 pm (UTC)And Chris bottoming-that's rare, but for Toby I think he would.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 10:56 am (UTC)Well, he's only human...
Chris is a funny one. I could totally believe all sorts of things about what Chris did with Toby. I love that in the show, when the FBI agent says Chris and Toby suck each other's cocks, Chris without a beat insists 'He sucks mine.' And yet with Mukada, he unashamedly says 'We fucked each other up the ass.'
The seeming conflict between these two lines can keep my muses amused for hours.
Thanks, mazephoenix!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 08:11 pm (UTC)I think they took turns so to speak. But Chris wouldn't do that for anybody else. Okay, just my head-canon.
Anyway, great chapter.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 10:04 pm (UTC)Yep, that's my head-canon, too.
S.
Your Epic Beecher/Keller story
Date: 2014-10-20 07:59 pm (UTC)Re: Your Epic Beecher/Keller story
Date: 2014-10-21 10:57 am (UTC)Yay, thank you anonymous person!
Sorry, I'm slower with AO3. It's a foreign land to me, and lj is still cosy and homey.
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-20 11:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 10:59 am (UTC)That may be a danger. And then we would have to suffer through seeing Elliot all messed up and angsty. Oh, no.
Thanks, tobiasven!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 01:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 11:06 am (UTC)Yeah! Thank you iskra! Poor Elliot's not ready for sex. He is, however, ready for a nice, sweaty, masculine, full body contact game with his good friend Toby.
And I'm kind of relieved the Chris stuff is still poignant. I'm riding a fine line with Toby using Elliot, and I'm not sure how far I want to tip over...
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 01:33 am (UTC)So you plan to have E fall reluctantly but hard for Toby and then whammy! hit him with the anvil eh?
no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 11:09 am (UTC)Me? I have no plans. Story's just meandering along, la-di-dah, nothing much going on.
Thanks, helvetica!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 12:26 pm (UTC)That scene with Toby basking in the sun is amazing, and watching Elliot playing basketball with Toby is such a parallel of Chris&Toby wrestling together. You're so good at using subtle stuff which provides an insight into a character so the readers can understand them a little better.
I can't wait to find out what you've planned for the next couple chapters because of all the angst that's about to come.
Hope my comment doesn't bother you. :]
no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 11:13 pm (UTC)Bother me? It made me do a Snoopy dance! You really don't understand the pleasure of hearing people talk about my story. :-)
Thank you so much! I had this little moment when I realised Toby had been released not long before Christmas, and he really deserved a moment to appreciate that first taste of good weather.
Yeah, apparently Toby has a thing for sports, hee!
And thanks for the incredibly sweet comment about the subtle stuff - that's what I want, the characterisation just slipping though in the quiet moments.
Thank you thank you!
S.
Loving this
Date: 2014-10-22 01:50 pm (UTC)Re: Loving this
Date: 2014-10-22 11:46 pm (UTC)Well, y'know. It only seems polite to offer...
Thanks, anonymous person!
S.