boy meets boy, part II


Keller sat down to watch TV. Wittlesey was still giving him the look. He ignored her and watched Miss Sally's boobs. Beecher was vulnerable, even weak, and still, something inside him was tough. It was damn weird to meet a man that was both.

"You love him yet?"

"Rebadow, your head is on backwards." Keller rolled his eyes.

"You will." Rebadow smiled and stared at the TV. "You will."

Keller swallowed his own spit. He wouldn't. "What's your plan?"

Rebadow gave him a knowing look. "Hide until the shooting stops."

"Good idea. Do that." Keller wished that were one of his choices. He rubbed his hand over his sore face. "I owe that bitch CO some grief."

"She has enough trouble dealing with Scott Ross." Rebadow had an answer for everything. Maybe he was God. Keller decided to stay out of it and go buy some cigarettes for after lights out. This time, they'd smoke it after Beecher sucked him off.


Beecher stumbled through the rest of the day after his nap. He felt like shit. His arm was killing him, his face hurt, and he wanted to stab a Nazi to watch him die. Schillinger was the choice of the day.

"Take a damn pill before I'm forced to call you 'Bitcher' and you shank me." Keller didn't look up from his library book and he sounded bored.

"Fuck off." Beecher meant it. He hurt" Damn it. "I need tits."

Keller sighed loudly and stood. "You're on your fucking own." And he walked out of the library. Beecher growled a few curse words and refused to trail after the fucker like a good prag, but he wished he had when the Aryans swaggered through the door. The hack on duty was one of the ones that moved only when necessary. This could be ugly. His limited options scooted through his brain.

"Bitcher" Good to see you" It was Mark Mack - a Nazi prick with a big mouth.

Beecher loved going to the movies. He liked them all, but he particularly liked the ones where the weakling finally killed all the bullies. Here, at Oz, he'd come to realize why. He slumped down on his arms. His plaster cast was hard as rock, but he leaned his head against it. Why him? Why?

"Come on, Bit-cher. We just want to play," Mack said.

Pricks. Beecher knew he'd screwed up royally. He might as well go directly to the hole or back to the infirmary. Keller marched back through the door and made a sharp gesture at him. "Prag ass, get it moving" Now"

Beecher lowered his head. He wanted to refuse because he was not a fucking prag, not any longer, but he fumbled to his feet. Keller looked angry. Beecher swallowed the small amount of pride that he'd recently recovered and found that his feet were taking him towards Keller. They pushed him, but they let him pass. Keller gave him a shove, and Beecher went down to the floor so they could laugh, and they did. He stumbled up, Keller grabbed him by the arm, and whispered, "Dumb fuck."

"Yeah." Beecher slipped a pill in his mouth. "I'm going to kill your buddy Vern."

"Keep dreaming about it." Keller turned him loose. "He's still wheedling away at Scott Ross."

"He hasn't fucked him yet?" Beecher could barely believe it. "He fucked me the first night"

"They're old friends, and Vern's trying to stay on the right side of the law."
Beecher felt reality slip. Law? In this place? "You buy some cigarettes?"

"Not yet."

"Let's do that." Beecher knew Keller would catch on quick. They'd have a talk with Scott Ross and make sure he understood Schillinger's true intentions. It might get the Nazi killed. Beecher smiled at the thought. "And I'm going to need some more pain pills."

"I'll talk to Alvarez and see what he wants." Keller snaked his arm around Beecher's waist. "You're easier to get along with when you're on something."

"That's what my wife always said." Beecher leaned into Keller's hard body. He needed it, just for a minute.



"Fuck," Keller groaned. "Come on, Toby."

Beecher lifted his head off the table, but his eyes couldn't focus. Keller dragged him to the line and made sure he stood more or less upright. The hack stopped in front of them. "What's his fucking problem?"

"Doc gave him a pain pill." Keller shrugged. "He just needs to sleep it off."

"Get him in." The hack moved on down the line, and Keller resigned himself to putting Beecher to bed and no blow job tonight. Damn. Whatever the hell it was they'd bought from Alvarez was stronger than the other pills. Keller would cut them in half. Beecher couldn't do it.

"Hey, Keller?"

"Go to sleep, fucker." Keller wanted to squeeze something, like Schillinger's head.

Beecher didn't say anything else. He pulled the blanket up. Keller stomped on the feeling that he'd kicked a puppy. Beecher needed to toughen up. That's why he was a damn prag" Keller waited until everything was quiet before using his blade to cut the pills. He put the halves back in the pocket without the shank. Beecher wouldn't need another one until morning. That tattoo was starting to look nice. Keller wouldn't tell him though. And he'd never mention that he'd wanted to mark Beecher. He'd needed it. Beecher belonged to him and always would, now. The tat proved it. It was nothing but weakness. Beecher was weakness. Keller refused to look at him. Rebadow and his God could go to hell.


Beecher startled awake in the middle of the night. Keller had curled into him, and it felt good. It made him feel less alone in this world.


"Yeah." Beecher was glad for the dark. "Sorry I was so fucked up."

"I cut the pills in half." Keller slipped his hand across Beecher's bare stomach. "Can't have my boy dying."

Beecher had expected him to say 'prag,' but was 'boy' any better? He wasn't sure. "I'm not a boy."

"You're a lawyer. I know." Keller nibbled the back of Beecher's neck. "It's slang. Get the fuck over it."

"Sure." Beecher tried to hold still and not arch back into the unbelievable warmth and good feelings that Keller offered up. Shit. Impossible.

Keller flicked his hand across Beecher's nipples. "That's right. Stand up for me."

Beecher gasped when teeth met his neck. God. A long, hard cock dug into his ass. "I thought you didn't want my ass."

"I don't." Keller bit his way down Beecher's shoulder. "But you can suck my cock."

Beecher clenched his jaw. He suddenly felt trapped. "Gotta piss. Move it"

Keller leisurely pulled away. His tongue left a wet trail that made him quiver. Beecher turned his back and pissed, though it took a second for his cock to cooperate. He lowered his head and asked, "You just want a blow?"

"Yeah." Keller was propped up on the bottom bunk, staring in clear lust. "No big deal."

Beecher didn't get it, and for some reason, he wanted to understand. "What's the real reason you don't want my ass?"

Keller sighed and stroked his cock. No boxers right now. "You were Vern's prag. I know Vern. He passed you around to every Aryan in the whole fucking prison. Chances are good that you got AIDS."

Beecher couldn't breathe. His vision went dark, he was back, and the word was still hanging in the air. He couldn't breathe. Stumbling slightly, he went to the door and slammed his cast into the plexiglass. It held, and the pain ripped through him. Real pain.

"Toby" Christ" Keller wrapped him up from behind and pulled him back towards the bunk. "Don't."

"Wittlesey would love to fuck you up again." Beecher began to fight, and Keller abandoned him, claiming the top bunk. Beecher found a book and threw it. "Chicken shit"

"I'm not going to the hole because you're an asshole. Hurt yourself. I don't give a fuck." Keller put his head against the glass. "Insane fucker."

Beecher felt like a wild animal was trying to crawl from his skin. He tilted back his head and yowled, "I need a Goddamn tit" Slowly, he slipped down the door and lay panting on the floor. AIDS. Motherfucking Christ. Schillinger had taken everything from him that the justice system had missed. Nothing left. No one would ever want him. His wife. Ex-wife. Fuck. He stared at his cast. Dr. Nathan would see him in three days. That was too fucking long. His pants were on the chair, and he fished inside for a pill. Keller had cut them, so he took two and settled down to wait in this new prison hell of Schillinger's making. No parole for that fucker. Nothing but a box. He looked again at Keller, but he was under a blanket, pretending to sleep. Keller. Killer. Keller. Beecher felt the pain start to slip away, and he waited until it was all gone and drool wanted to roll from his mouth. He moved fast and tried to put every muscle he had into it.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Keller said.

Beecher beat the plaster off against the rail of the bunk. He was fucking crazy. He knew it now. Blood pounded in his ears. Throwing the chunks at the door, he stared down at his arm. Looked pretty fucking bad, but it felt fine. God damn this place. It took everything from a man. Sure, he'd fucked up, and that little girl was dead, but it had been a fucking accident" It wasn't as if he'd set out to kill her. He was weak, just weak, and she was dead, and now he had less than nothing. Nothing. He slumped back down to the floor and curled up to cradle his arm.

"You done, Toby?" Keller sat down nearby and wrapped an arm around him.

"Yeah. For now." Beecher liked hearing his name. Keller said it the right way. "No parole. He dies."

Keller didn't answer at first. He smoothed his hand over Beecher's body. Beecher shivered and tried to let it comfort him, but it didn't work. Nothing. Nothing. Keller whispered, "I'll help."

Beecher felt it all rush out of him. He would kill him. Kill. The pulse in his arm beat in time to the word, and he managed to push Keller away. "Go fuck yourself."

Keller got up and stared down at him. "Toby, you're a high maintenance pain in the ass."

Beecher shut his eyes. Oz stayed around him, and he blinked in confusion when the lights came on. Keller slid out from his bunk and threw him some sweats. "Put these on and lie there like you're half-dead."

Beecher put them on and didn't have any trouble with the half-dead part. Keller went out of the pod. Beecher fumbled for a piece of plaster and threw it at the CO that came through the door. That was enough to see it done. He screamed when they cuffed him and dragged him out. The trip to the infirmary was a long one and punctuated with several sharp blows when he struggled. Well, he had to get there.


Keller had no appetite. He didn't bother going to breakfast, not after he'd watched the fuckers drag Beecher away, screaming in pain. Shit. Toby. Keller leaned against the top bunk and rubbed his face. He didn't care. It only meant that his next blowjob would have to wait. Beecher's pants, the ones with the pills and shank, stared at him. Keller looked the pod over carefully. He needed a hiding place. They hadn't had a shakedown since he'd gotten here, so they were due. There was an answer here; he just had to find it.

"What the hell happened to Bitcher?" Schillinger was nosy, but he didn't give a damn.

Keller slowly turned and put his back into the top bunk. "He went nuts."

"He's been nothing but trouble since he started getting high." Vern shrugged. "You should kill him."

"I like fucking him way too much to do that." Keller rolled his shoulders to loosen the muscles. "And you know Vern, prison is pretty fucking dull, but Beecher livens the place up."

Schillinger put his hands on his hips and frowned. "He probably went nuts because I told him I was going to fuck his wife when I got out."

"I doubt it." Keller knew exactly why Beecher had gone crazy. AIDS. "Where you hide your shank?"

"No good place in Em City. Too open." Schillinger turned to leave. "You like Scott?"

"No. He's a prick." Keller stared at the floor. Maybe he could pry up a tile or two. "You fuck him yet?"

"Very soon." Schillinger laughed and strolled away. Keller sat down on the floor near the sink and used his fingers to pry at a tile. Tight, but possible. The one behind the toilet where no one would step was the best choice. No one seemed to care he spent a good part of the morning sitting in the corner, and he dug out a shallow hole. The dirt he flushed away. He put two shanks and Beecher's supply of pills, in a small bag that had held cigarettes, flat and pushed the tile down hard. Again, he checked with his fingers. It was a good job. If he were unlucky, he'd lose it all, but it was worth a try. He washed his hands and lay on the bottom bunk. What a shitty day.

"Chris Keller, we need to talk."

Keller sat up and groaned at the nun. "I didn't do it"

She crooked her finger, and he went with her to her office. She sat behind the desk, and he wandered over to where he knew Beecher worked. Smart fucker. He had one of the best jobs in this place.

"Tobias is out of control, again. Tell me what happened."

Keller sat down in a chair and stared at his boots. "I don't understand why you hacks care so much. He's just another fucking prisoner."

"It's complicated. Tell me."

"I don't think he'd want me to." Keller raised his eyes until they met her eyes, and he thought again that for an older woman, she was sexy. "You banging him?"

Sister Pete put on her stern nun face. "How about some time in solitary?"

"If you want." Keller shrugged. That was no threat. "Beecher and I are almost friends. I told him the truth, and he freaked out."

"The truth about what?"

"Prison." Keller stood up. "Can I go?"

She flicked her hand at him in dismissal. "Group. Be there."

"Again?" Keller shut the door behind him. He went in the general direction of the infirmary, but didn't make it. A CO re-directed him, and he went back to Em City. Beecher was right. Oz sucked.


"There. I'm done. Again." Dr. Nathan glared at Beecher. "What were you taking?"

Beecher tried to look innocent. He was pretty good at it. "Nothing." His good arm was restrained to the bed rail. His new cast was on the other arm, and she strapped it down the instant she was finished. Beecher didn't protest. He didn't care. "Dr. Nathan?"

"What?" She looked ready to go.
Beecher couldn't think of how to say it, so he let it blurt out of him, "I figure, after, well, everything, that I have AIDS."

Dr. Nathan came right back close to him. "Why?" She was intent. How could she not know? Didn't everyone?

"Ask Sister Pete. Please. She'll tell you." Beecher turned his face away. He couldn't force those words out. "Please."

Silence. Then. "I will." And she was gone. Beecher shut his eyes. He knew his face was red. Schillinger's little prag would have AIDS. It was a foregone conclusion.


"Sister?" Dr. Nathan tracked her down in the staff lounge.

"Hello, Gloria. How's Tobias Beecher?" Sister Pete waved her over. "I'm falling behind in my paperwork."

"Again." They shared a small laugh. Dr. Nathan sat down near her. "Beecher says he has AIDS. I think that's why he freaked out. I had to sedate him to get the damn cast on his arm. Now he's meek as a kitten"

The nun sighed and lowered her head slightly. "Gloria, Tobias was Schillinger's podmate."

"Does that mean what I think it does?" Dr. Nathan stood back up.

"Yes, and it's probably worse than you or I can imagine."

"I can imagine a whole bunch." Dr. Nathan didn't hesitate. She went to get the testing kit.


Beecher didn't flinch when the needle went in his arm. Dr. Nathan knew. Now. And she looked worried. He refused to meet her beautiful, brown eyes. She put a band-aid on his arm and gave him a pat. "I'll let you know."

"Can I go back to my pod?" Beecher didn't want to be restrained here when Schillinger came through with the mail.

Dr. Nathan stared at him and sighed. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. You're out of control."

"I can hold it together. I can." Beecher hoped so. Before she could answer, McManus strode into the ward with his baseball cap on and his ever-present clipboard. She opened her mouth, and Beecher opened his to beg, but they were both interrupted.

"Em City is in lockdown. I'll get a CO to take him back." McManus shook his head. "Beecher, you're turning into a problem."

"Hey, thanks" Beecher grinned, but he immediately stopped. It made him look nuts, and he wanted out of here. Dr. Nathan released the restraints, and he slid off the bed. McManus found a CO fast, Beecher was on his way back to his pod, and he was glad. Em City was remarkably quiet during lockdown. With Schillinger, lockdowns had been pure hell, but Keller might not be that bad.

Keller didn't even look over the top of his magazine when the CO shoved Beecher in the door. Beecher turned and watched the CO strut away. That guy was dangerous. He had some German name that sounded like a gun. Was it Howitzer or Metzger? The problem was that the fucker was cozy with Schillinger, but the CO wasn't assigned to Em City, not yet, so it was something to worry about later.

"Hey, Keller."

"Hey." Keller still didn't look. His hand was stuffed in his jeans.

Beecher found a shirt and put it on, but he took the time to give his tattoo a good look. The swelling was gone, and it looked okay. He had a crucifix, like Keller. Did that mean something? And barbed wire? What the fuck was that? "Barbed wire and a crucifix. My parents are going to pass out."

"Looks nice. Pain and sacrifice. Fences and freedom." Keller's words were soft and low and hit Beecher hard in the gut. Keller was definitely Catholic.
"Philosophy from behind bars." Beecher wished for the chair, but it was gone, so he sat on the edge of the bottom bunk. "You mad at me?"

"I think you're fucking crazy." Keller laughed. "But no, not mad. You did what you had to, and I respect that, even if you are insane."

"Yeah. Too bad about old Tobias. Went fucking crazy in prison. Well, getting it up the ass every day will do that to a man." Beecher timidly put his hand on Keller's leg. "You ever going to come?"

"Not if you keep talking like that." Keller pulled his hand out and tossed the magazine. "Schillinger was here, giggling about how he drove you over the edge."

Beecher stood up and went to stare out at the other poor fuckers, bored and half-crazy. "He's worried that I'm not scared anymore." He wasn't. Was not.
Keller didn't answer. He started doing push ups. Beecher sighed and didn't comment about it, even if a big, sweaty man in a small box wasn't the best idea. Keller finally spoke up. "Had a fight in the commons area. That's why we're here."

"Always something. Hit anyone good?"

"You know Schillinger's pet Nazi, the young one from the library?"

"Mark Mack?" Beecher smiled.

"That's the one. I got him with a chair." Keller's smile was cold, and his eyes were colder. "He's going to have a headache for a week or two."

"I always miss the good stuff." Beecher wished he'd seen it. Mack was a dickhead. "I think, I'm not sure, but I think, I like you."

"You're not too bad, when you're not climbing the walls." Keller stopped doing push ups and rolled to his back. "I hid the meds. I'll get you one when the lights go out."

Beecher nodded. He'd need one. He grabbed up the girly magazine and rolled onto Keller's bunk to read - aloud.


Keller thought his pants might burst, so he stripped them off. His cock hadn't been this hard in years. Beecher didn't seem to notice as his smooth voice talked smut, but Keller didn't believe it. There was something between them, something hot, something almost electric. It made no sense, but it was there, and it made him want to do dangerous things.

"I like big cocks, sucking, and never, ever take it up the ass," Beecher read. He laughed when he looked up. "She'd be a big disappointment to the guys around here."

"Women never like it up the ass." Keller heard the tightness in his voice. Shit" He was horny.

Beecher pulled out the centerfold and turned his head. "You don't want me."

"You're so fucking wrong." Keller knew they'd never get away with sharing a bunk until lights out. The CO's were watching tonight. He sat down on the floor, faced Beecher, and rubbed himself. "I'd like to shove you up against that glass, rip your clothes off, and thrust for about six hours."

Beecher gasped. He shook his head. "No."

"I'll buy some condoms." Keller leaned his head back. He needed to fuck something. A hack hit the door with his nightstick, and Keller flipped him off, but he stopped touching himself.

"What's up with them?" Beecher got off the bunk, stretched, and went to stare out. Keller stared at him and didn't answer the stupid question. Beecher caught Keller's eye in the reflection. "Six hours?"

"How about five minutes?" Keller puffed on an imaginary cigarette. "You and me? Tonight?"

Beecher's eyes pinched at the corners. For a moment, he looked old, and then he answered, "I always hated that phrase, 'damaged goods,' but it does seem to describe me very well. Why would you want me?"

"I'm horny. You're here. Let's not make fucking more of it than it is." Keller wouldn't confess to anything. It was unhealthy to show any weakness in prison.

"Any ass in a storm?"

"Well, mouth, but fuck yeah." Keller refused to play into Beecher's pity, and he refused to own up that Beecher was more than a hole. Beecher had to get tough, hard, and even merciless. Keller flicked his tongue out. "It feels good. Let's do it. I'm not a prick lawyer that argues either side and wins. I want your mouth on my cock. I'll buy some fucking condoms, and then I want your ass."

"A declaration of pure love." Beecher turned and laughed. "Okay, I want your mouth on my cock. What's it gonna take to get it there? Money, cigarettes, begging?"

Keller was surprised. He'd almost expected Beecher to look hurt and turn away. "I'll think about it."

"You do that." Beecher got on the floor and started doing slow sit ups. He was awkward and out of shape, but he kept at it. Keller watched and tried to understand the crazy mind that had been a prag and now was messed up. Beecher stopped when he couldn't get his back off the floor. "Tell me how you met Vern, the Nazi pig."

Keller narrowed his eyes and turned away from Beecher. "I did my first stint in Lardner. He was there."

"So why aren't you a Nazi pig also?" The lawyer was talking. Keller almost wished that Beecher had been his lawyer, maybe he wouldn't be in this fucking place until he died. Lawyers were all pricks, and this version of Beecher was a prick too.

"Don't get my kicks swaggering around with a group of pussies, picking on another group of pussies." Keller cracked his knuckles. The pod seemed smaller than usual tonight, and all he wanted to do was fuck Beecher's mouth or ass. "You think you're man enough to take him on?"

"No, but I'm smart enough." Beecher barked a laugh. "I may have to humiliate him first."

Keller rubbed his eyes. How in the hell had he managed to get stuck between a heroin fiend and a Nazi? "One of Vern's boys asked to buy your services today." It was a lie, but it would be interesting to see which way Beecher jumped.

"Do it. I can give him AIDS, the sorry fucker" Beecher fought his way to his feet. His eyes glared, and he looked more than crazy. He grabbed a fistful of Keller's arm. "I want half of whatever you get"

Keller looked down at the hand wrapped around his arm. A hand that had never done a hard day's work. A hand that had never killed - intentionally. A hand that was soft. Oz was going to change all of that, and damn fast. He licked his finger and pushed it at Beecher's mouth. Beecher jerked back, but Keller stroke the wet finger across soft lips. They groaned simultaneously. "You listen to me, you little prag lawyer. You are a problem, a pain, and a pissy motherfucker, but you belong to me."

Beecher released Keller's arm, and his mouth fell open slightly. Keller shoved the finger deep because he could. His cock throbbed, and Beecher sucked it until Keller yanked it out and smeared the spit on him. Beecher nodded. "Fair enough, you fucker."

"I thought you'd agree." Keller went back to the door and stared out. "Fucking Oz."

Beecher didn't answer, and when Keller looked for him, he was on the bottom bunk with an arm thrown over his eyes, trying hopelessly to escape. Keller knew it was true, he'd done it often enough himself.


Beecher didn't bother talking again until the lights went out. They'd both said enough and too much. "Pill?"

"Come here. I'll show you." Keller sat down on the floor by the sink, and Beecher joined him. "Pry up the tile."

Beecher smiled. Keller was a smart fucker. "Two shanks?"

"Yours and my spare." Keller shut it again firmly, and Beecher swallowed a pill. That would take the edge off.

Beecher crawled back to the bunk and got on it. "Come on."

"What's the rush?" Keller lay on his side, facing Beecher. "You horny?"
"You make me horny." Beecher was glad the dark hid some of his face. "First man to ever do that"

"It's prison, nothing else." Keller put a heavy hand on Beecher's shirt. "Get undressed."

Beecher almost flinched from the flat, hard command. He bumbled the job of getting his clothes off, and Keller lost patience and finished the job for him. Beecher knew he was in deep water, and Keller was the circling shark. "Easy."

"If you want it easy, try Rebadow." Keller swarmed on him, taking his breath, good sense, and any desire to struggle, away. No escape from this tonight, and Beecher fluctuated between begging for it and screaming no at the top of his lungs. Their mouths wove their tongues together, and Keller's hands were everywhere, all at the same time.

Beecher thought he might pass out - too many heady feelings combined with whatever was in the little pill. He began to pant, and it wasn't pretty. "I need you."

"I know." Keller grabbed Beecher's ass and squeezed. "Do you like it when I stick my finger in your ass?"

"No," Beecher lied. He couldn't like it. No. God. No.

Keller pushed his finger inside Beecher's mouth. "Suck it good." Beecher felt his cock flex, and he sucked. Keller pulled it out and immediately pressed it inside him. Beecher wanted to cry out or fight, but, damn it, damn it, he liked it. Keller chuckled. "You liked it the first time too."

Beecher didn't remember the first time all that well. He squirmed and tried to catch his breath against the incessant pleasure. "Suck my cock."

"No." Keller began to squeeze another finger deep. "Your ass isn't Schillinger's. It's mine, and tonight, I'm going to prove it to you."

"No, God, no," Beecher gasped, but he knew it was hopeless, and he knew he didn't mean it. Keller relentlessly kissed and finger fucked him. Beecher felt like he was being pulled apart. Being brutally fucked was one thing, but this was a whole 'nother ballgame. "Chris . . ."

"Yeah, say my name like you have to have me." Keller slid his tongue and fingers deep in different parts of Beecher's aching-to-come body. Beecher wrapped his arm around Keller's neck and banged their teeth together. Keller did something to Beecher's ass, a twisting and more, deeper. Beecher made a noise like a crazy man would and orgasmed. It roared and whispered out of him, breaking him, binding him, and making him wish for things that were dangerous. He'd never done dangerous things, but maybe it was time to start.

"Toby, your balls were full." Keller laughed. He eased away and left him wanting more. Beecher gasped when the wet towel wiped him down. Keller tossed it back at the sink and growled, "Knees."

Beecher got off the bunk and on his knees without thinking. He was there, and he wanted to do this. Keller's big hand wrapped around Beecher's neck and guided him. Beecher felt lost. He wasn't in control of this, and he didn't give a damn. It was frightening and wonderful at the same time. He teased with his tongue before sucking, and he used his hand to cradle Keller's balls.


Beecher grunted and pushed his mouth down farther. He shut his eyes and went somewhere else while the big man above him took his pleasure.

Keller stroked Beecher's face. "Toby." One word and it managed to give Beecher more of a sense of love than any hundred his wife had ever said to him. It didn't make sense, but it was true. Perhaps prison stripped away all a man was, so whatever was left and given to another was truly sacred. Keller made a strangled noise, and Beecher sucked harder. The results were instantaneous. Beecher swallowed, he remembered how, and he didn't quit until Keller slumped down on the bunk.

"Your balls were full too."

"Not hungry anymore, huh?" Keller gently pushed his fingers through Beecher's ragged hair. Their mouths met again, and they were on the bunk, kissing. Beecher didn't ask if they were finished, he knew the answer.


Beecher fell into a rhythm. He didn't question it. He knew deep inside he needed it, and it helped to heal him. Keller, work, Keller, laundry, gym, Keller, library, Keller, Keller; and through it all, he ignored the Nazis. They were shit. The days were still long, but there was something in the nights that made them easier. He counted the days, and when there were seven of them, he went back to see Dr. Nathan.

"Sit, Beecher."

"Yes, ma'am." Beecher grinned at her. She examined his arm and the rest of him as well. "Any pain?"

"Not as bad." Beecher had stopped taking pain pills yesterday. He hadn't wanted to, but he was out.

"Staying off tits?"

"Yes, ma'am." Beecher liked her. "Keller doesn't like it."

"Beecher, engaging in risky sexual behavior will lead to you acquiring any number of sexually transmitted diseases, including AIDS." Dr. Nathan looked stern, even sad.

Beecher nodded. "I'm no fool." He wasn't. He knew the score. "Keller won't touch me. He thinks I have AIDS." Well, not his ass, but Dr. Nathan didn't need to know that.

"Interesting." She looked skeptical, sat down, and opened his chart. "You're clean."

"What?" Beecher felt his heart stop beating. "What do you mean?"

"I thought you were no fool." She smiled gently at him. "No AIDS. I double-checked. You were lucky."

"Me. Lucky. Fucking amazing." Beecher couldn't believe it, but he did. "Thank you."

"Good news is always fun." She gave him a pat. "I'll take your cast off in two weeks. Keep it dry."

"Okay." Beecher hopped down and put his shirt back on. He felt like celebrating, but in Oz, it was a stupid idea. Someone would knock him down today. "You sure?"

"I'm positive that you're negative." She shut the chart. "No more drugs, Toby."

"Working on it." Beecher smiled. He almost felt happy. Instead of going back to his pod, he went to the library to read. He was a lucky man, and it was too good to last.


Keller shoved the barbells back into place. He let out a long breath and sat up. The gym was full today.

"Where's Bitcher?" Mack smiled. It was ugly.

Keller wiped his face on his shirt. "Doctor." He wanted to punch the Aryan fuck in the face, but it wouldn't do anything but get him thrown in the hole.

"Can I have him? Just for a blow?"

"No. He's busy at the end of my dick." Keller stood and hit the punching bag hard enough to send it backwards. "Fuck off."

"Word is - Bitcher has to die, and you have to do it." The blond Aryan grinned. "Schillinger wants to see you in the library. Now."

"If I don't get my blowjobs, I'm going to be very unhappy." Keller looked around, didn't spot a hack, and knocked the Nazi asshole out. Pussy. He wiped his hands on his pants and went to the library. Schillinger and Beecher were there.


Beecher rarely found anything in the library that fascinated him, but this book on the history of prisons was pretty good. Apparently, he had it fucking good, and he just didn't appreciate it.


Beecher didn't look up for a second. His good luck had just gone to bad. "Yes, lover?" He doubted Schillinger could hear or understand the sarcasm.

Schillinger sucked his teeth. "Glad you remember. I've been watching you, and you're a mite too happy. It's . . . ugly."

"Happy?" Beecher shut the book with one hand and made sure of his shank with the other. He could protect himself, he hoped. "Have you lost what little Nazi mind you have?"

"You and Keller. Always together. Girlfriends. I don't like it."

Beecher stared at his enemy. Schillinger hated him so much. There was no good reason for it, but it was there. "He protects me from your gang of fags, and I suck his cock."

"Like I said, I don't like it." Schillinger put his foot on the chair next to Beecher. He made a slicing motion across his neck. "It's time to die, and I have just the man to do it."

"Keller." Beecher felt his lungs cave in. He knew Keller could do it, and now he knew that Keller would do it.

"He's tired of your faggy prag ass." Schillinger laughed. "Told me so himself"

Beecher happened to glance at the door. Keller was standing in front of it, waiting. Schillinger smiled so big that it was obscene. Beecher lowered his head. This would happen to him today. No AIDS, but a nice, big shank in the chest. Shit. Keller took three steps to put him close.

"It's time, Keller. Whack him."

Beecher found himself lost in those flat, dangerous eyes. Keller was a stone cold killer, but at night, they'd found something beyond these walls. Beecher saw the flicker of indecision. He saw the pain, and he saw Keller's problem: Keller didn't want to, but he couldn't think of a way not. Beecher sighed. "Vern, baby, I'm almost tired enough to let him, but I received very good news from Dr. Nathan today, and I don't want to ruin the moment by dying."

Keller made a soft grunt. He understood, and he smiled, a little. Schillinger grabbed Beecher's shirt and yanked. "You die. Now."

Beecher fought his way up and before the hack could intervene, he plunged his shank at Schillinger's face. Once. Twice. The screams were so nice in his ears. Blood spurted, and he sliced lower, trying for Schillinger's cock. For all the screaming, it was strange that all Beecher could hear was Keller laughing, laughing, and laughing. The laughter snapped off.


"Get Schillinger to the infirmary"

Keller kept his hands up and let the CO hold him against the wall. McManus strode over to them both. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Schillinger grabbed Beecher, and he drove a shank into him," the CO growled.

"And Keller?"

"He laughed about it." The CO pushed his nightstick harder, but Keller didn't complain.

McManus sputtered, "He laughed?"

"Loudly." The CO seemed confused.

"It was funny," Keller wheezed around the nightstick.

"Put him in his pod." McManus rushed out the door. Keller didn't fight too much. He probably should, just for practice, but if he were in the hole, he'd never find out what happened to Schillinger's face and other parts. He laughed again. His prag had graduated to the world of men. And Toby was clean. Keller laughed again and regretted not fucking that sweet ass.


Beecher woke up on the way to the hole. He was already naked, being dragged along, and he fought to get his feet under him.

"Shanked that Nazi good, huh?"

Beecher tried to keep moving. He knew he was only half-conscious, and his feet were reluctant to move at all.
"Schillinger's not so bad." The other guard shook him. "Little bitch has gotten above himself."

Beecher swung his cast at the German's head. "I'm nobody's bitch" Lights out.


"McManus, what the fuck are you doing wrong?"

McManus curled his lips slightly. "Glynn, Schillinger grabbed him. Beecher was probably certain he'd be killed. He defended himself."

"Pretty answers for shanking a man's eye out" Glynn glowered. "Those two are headed for a disaster. How many are they going to take down with them?"

McManus sighed. "Too many. They hate each other."

"I don't much blame Beecher." Glynn spoke softly now. "Week in the hole for him. And I want a shake down. Find the weapons, again"

"Good idea." McManus shrugged. "One week enough?"

"For someone else, no, but Beecher, yes." Glynn paused at the doorway. "Beecher is one of them now. Schillinger better let this drop or there's going to be war."

McManus slammed his clipboard down on his desk. "Shit."


Beecher shivered. Keller had been right. It was fucking cold in here. One bucket was what passed for furniture. The walls were filthy with something dark. Beecher didn't want to know what it was. He leaned against the wall and stared at the blood on his hands. Schillinger's Nazi blood. He smelled it and laughed.

"You gone crazy, Beecher?"

Beecher blinked. He'd missed the door opening. "Want to see my swastika?"

"Uh, no," McManus said.

Beecher found himself laughing. Why, after all these months, now that he was in the hole, did he finally feel free? "Any chance the prick is dead?"

"If he was, you'd be up on murder charges" McManus snapped.

"Self-defense. I have witnesses." Beecher got up and turned. "Ever been branded?"
"Week in the hole." McManus slammed the door. Beecher laughed. Unit Manager. Right. McManus couldn't manage his ass; much less Em City. Beecher put a hand against the cold wall. He chuckled. Keller would have killed him, and Schillinger wanted him dead. No AIDS, but nothing else either. Whatever they'd shared on that bunk had meant nothing compared to Keller keeping his jizz.

"Keller, Keller, what a feller." Beecher giggled and felt his sanity slip away. He didn't need it anyway. It was highly over-rated. "Blood, blood, everywhere and not a drop to spare."


"What's the news, O'Reily?"

O'Reily grinned and slipped into the chair next to him. "Beecher popped Schillinger's eye out and gave him a couple of slices, nothing serious."

Keller grunted. "Gonna be a war between those two."

"I'd have put all my money on Schillinger, until now." O'Reily looked this way and that. He was always thinking. "I heard from a CO that Beecher's gone fucking crazy. He's making up rhymes and yelling. Oh, and laughing about you."

"Me?" Keller didn't like the sound of that.

"'Die, die, die, prag, die. Keller laughed and didn't cry.' And then Beecher laughs." O'Reily bit his lip. "Weird, huh?"

"He's been fucked since Schillinger branded him, but those lips . . ." Keller smiled tightly. He had to think about this.

"I hear you." O'Reily jumped up and slipped away. Keller found himself staring at Rebadow. There was silence for a moment.

"He loves you," Rebadow said, before returning his attention to the TV. "And love sucks."

Keller couldn't think of what to say. He had laughed, but he'd never intended to kill Beecher, no. He'd been waiting to see what the hack would do, before getting Beecher out of there in one piece. Beecher had been safer than he knew, but he hadn't trusted him. Not surprising. Keller rubbed his face. He'd thought maybe they'd shared something, but it had been nothing but business. Protection for blow jobs. Business. Rebadow was as crazy as Beecher.

"I don't love him."

Rebadow didn't even look at him. "God says you're a liar."

"God's a prick." Keller hefted his chair and wanted to throw it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Said, watching, waiting, and hoping. Keller put the chair down and smiled at the hack. Said shrugged. They both knew it was coming.


Beecher pissed in the bucket before throwing it on the wall. The part of his mind that had gone to Harvard cringed in disgust. The crazy part laughed. He'd been surprised how much he'd missed the pain medication, and the tits, and Keller. Keller"

"Hey diddle diddle, the Keller is a fiddle, and I jumped over the moon." Beecher laughed and lay on the floor to stare at the light that dangled down. Fuckers never shut it off. The lawyer whispered, 'Schillinger's not dead.' "Oh, shut the fuck up"

Of course, Schillinger wasn't dead. Can't kill Satan" Beecher stared at his hands. He'd try again, and he'd keep trying until one of them was dead. Keller could laugh all he wanted"


Beecher ignored it. It wasn't real, and then a boot crashed into his ribs. He gulped, howled, and found himself yanked up by his hair. "Fucker"

"Schillinger sends you a present." The German CO laughed and threw him. Beecher hit the wall hard enough to stun him. He gathered the last of his air and yelled for help, but no one heard, cared, or came. The CO laughed. "The good news is that he's decided you're not to die, no."

Beecher tried to dodge a boot and failed. He slammed into the floor. "Fuck you"

"No death for you, only suffering. Even after Schillinger gets his parole, and he will, I'll see to it, you'll be here to suffer"

Beecher stared up at the huge Nazi asshole prick CO. Battle lines were being drawn. No surrender, no quarter given, and no hope of victory. "Go ahead" You think I give a fuck?" He used his last breath to laugh some more. "I'll win" I'll win" No matter what"

The CO delivered his final message, and Beecher lay in a puddle of pain. The puddle was from the piss. Oh well. He used his finger to write on the wall with it. Help" Oh, forget it.


Keller sat on his bunk and slowly peeled the orange. It smelled good, like Beecher. People were picking sides. The gays, the brothers, and the Italians were siding with Beecher. The bikers and the Aryans were with Schillinger. O'Reily and his group were behind Beecher. That left a few others, like Keller. He'd said nothing. Everyone had expected him to do something, so he hadn't, and he wouldn't, not yet. It wasn't time. Killing a man was something that should be savored.


Beecher watched the light.

"Get up," McManus said.

Beecher rolled to a crouch and slid up the wall. It was nice to have a visitor. "Hi."

"You're filthy"

"CO pissed on me. Um, three times, maybe four, wait, five?" Beecher wiped his hands on his chest. He didn't give a fucking shit. "I didn't mind."

McManus didn't hold out the clothes. "He says you were throwing piss everywhere."

"Oh, yeah, that too." Beecher grinned. "I was bored."

"Shower first." McManus pointed. "Out"

"Whatever you want, dickhead." Beecher banged his cast into the wall. One of his legs was so bruised it was hard to walk, so he stumbled along. He didn't give a damn.

McManus stayed with him, all the way to the showers. They were empty, except for Keller. What luck. Beecher admired that ass again and fell down under a nozzle that wasn't on. McManus wasn't finished talking. He never shut the fuck up. "Help him clean up, Keller. Here are his clothes."

"I'm not your fucking maid." Keller turned away. He would. Asshole.

Beecher laughed and crawled over to sit under the water that was hitting his podmate. "Welcome me home"

Keller walked away. No surprise. McManus made a frustrated noise. "Beecher, I'm this close to sending you back"

"Wow. What a good idea." Beecher pointed at any number of fresh bruises. "Did I have these when I went in there? Let's analyze the evidence, bailiff. No, I didn't. Must have been the CO. No, not possible. They're all saints. Case closed. Beecher's guilty"

McManus stayed away, but tossed Beecher some soap. "You're nuts. The psych ward is a lovely place. I think you belong there."

Beecher wasn't worried. McManus was a lot of hot air. Keller spoke. "It was his first time in the hole. He still learning that hacks are assholes, prison officials are corrupt, and he's nothing but a number. Give him a break."

"Wash him, get him to your pod, and I'll walk away."

Beecher opened his mouth. The water felt good. He ran a hand along his face. A beard. Nice. He'd keep it. "Go on. I'm fine. Just let me swim a minute."

"I'll do it, but you owe me another cigarette." Keller's voice was like granite. McManus didn't answer, but Beecher knew when the fucker left. Beecher smiled. Keller was always scoring cigarettes. The fucker.

"Hey, Keller."

"Hey, Beech."

"Lovely weather we're having." Beecher laughed. The rain was fine, hitting him in the face.

"It is." Keller joined him in the water and began to use the soap. "You smell like shit."

"Thank you, my dear man." Beecher put his hand up into the spray. He didn't push away the hand that scrubbed him - the hand of a killer, the hand of the man he loved, foolishly, even unwisely. "The hole was nice, just like you said."

"I knew you'd like it." Keller stood and re-directed the water. "I have good news."

"Really? I love good news. I get so little of it." Beecher rubbed his face, shoved his hair back, and sat up. The water hit him on top of the head and streamed down.

"Everyone agrees that you're not a prag any longer. You're one crazy motherfucker."

"That is nice. I'll send thank you cards out tomorrow." Beecher yawned. Keller soaped him on the back. It felt good. "I'm not very happy with you. I don't think I'll send you one."

Keller didn't answer because he didn't care. Of course. He pulled him up. "Hack messed with your leg?"

"Fucker damn near broke it." Beecher couldn't put his full weight on it, but it didn't matter. He could limp. "Schillinger's going to win, but I've decided that I'm good with that."

Keller turned off the water. "We'll see about that shit," he muttered.

Beecher grabbed the towel that Keller threw and dried off. He put it over his shoulder and started for the door.

"Uh, Toby, how about putting it around your waist?"

"Fuck 'em." Beecher took the clothes and limped out the door. Keller was close behind him. A couple of the faggots whistled, and Beecher waved at them. O'Reily clapped, and Beecher blew him a kiss.


"Kiss my swastika" Beecher was nobody's bitch, nobody's prag. He was nobody, and that was fine. In fact, it was perfect.


Keller dried Beecher's cast off while he dressed. He didn't seem to care, but Keller knew it was supposed to stay dry. Damn thing would stink. "Lay down."

"Yes, sir" Beecher sank down on the bottom bunk. "Home, sweet, home."

"Right." Keller dressed. Only when he was finished did he glance at Beecher. "You need anything?"

"Jack Sprat would have no cat, Mrs. Sprat would have no dog, so when they went to market, they settled on a hog." Beecher laughed.

"Great. I'll see what I can do." Keller shut the door behind him. There were three hours until count, and he'd be damned if he'd spend them in the pod listening to Beecher sprout nonsense. Everyone turned and looked at him, and he did nothing but sit down to watch television. The news was always on.

"He's crazy as a ground squirrel." Hill rolled closer.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Keller smoothed his wet hair.

Rebadow looked over. "He's chasing nuts all the time."

Keller rubbed his brow. He was beginning to remember his old prison fondly, and that was fucked. "I need a cigarette."

O'Reily handed him one. "Beecher'll be fine. He's just messed up like the rest of us now."

"Hurrah." Keller lit up and took a lungful. Nice. "Beecher's the only one of us that's ever getting out."

"Not if he kills Schillinger." Hill shrugged. "Poor fucker will be here forever, just like us."

"Ain't gonna happen." Keller shook his head and sucked the cigarette hard. He let the smoke ooze out and sucked it back up his nose. "God told me that Rebadow is gonna kill Schillinger."

Rebadow stared at him. O'Reily and Hill laughed. Rebadow shrugged. "I'm glad he's talking to you now"

Keller smiled. Beecher wasn't going to have a chance to kill Schillinger. Said would see that Keller had an opportunity, and the Muslim turned to stare at him. Keller wandered over. "Still praying?"

"You should attempt it." Said was so pompous. Dickhead.

"I pray every day." Keller finished the cigarette and shoved it out under his boot. Said curled his sanctimonious lip and Keller nodded. "It's true. I pray you'll get this riot started. I have people to kill."

"I'm not serving your purposes"

Keller smirked. "You will, but let's wait until old Vern gets home."

"There is no guarantee."

"Don't start the riot until then, and I won't tell the CO's about the gun." Keller crossed his arms. "How did they miss that in the shake down?"

"Allah works in mysterious ways." Said smiled. "I am no man's slave."

"Glad we got that settled." Keller smiled back at him. "It's under your cot, and it's the only one you've got."

Said turned a murderous stare on him. Their eyes battled, but Keller had nothing to lose, and Said knew it. "A small delay will hurt nothing."

"Beecher says thanks." Keller left before Said started preaching. Said would wait. Keller had one more stop to make, and he didn't stop until he sank into the chair in front of her desk. "You totally fucked me over."

"Chris Keller, watch your language."

"It's true. I'm stuck in an old-fashioned range war" Keller leaned against her desk. Sister Pete looked upset. She should be. Keller smiled. "Who are you backing?"

"I pray for peace."

"Right. Beecher's praying for a piece of Schillinger's ass and Schillinger is praying that the CO's accidentally cut Beecher to pieces." Keller paused. "Accidents do happen in prison."

Sister Pete was as close to glaring as a nun could get. She put her hands flat on the desk and leaned slightly. "No more fighting."

"It's gone too far. The CO in the hole kicked Beecher around for Schillinger." Keller laughed. "What a fucking mess and all of you allowed it"

"Don't you criticize us" How could we know?"

"How could you not?" Keller stood up and stretched. "Everyone is always looking the other way."

"That's what happened to you at Lardner. I was able to intervene there, but my hands are tied here at Oz." The sister knew too much. "Beecher killed that little girl. He was sent here. It's his punishment."

"Nice and tidy. Well, when Beecher kills Schillinger, I'm not taking the rap." Keller made sure not to raise his voice. "Got it?"

Sister Pete shut her eyes and lowered her head. Keller left her like that. She was praying for peace. Too fucking late.


Beecher rolled off the bunk and stumbled out to watch TV. He wasn't sleepy. O'Reily laughed and sat down close. "Tits? You earned a free one."

"Nah." Beecher wanted it, but it was a bad idea. He was crazy enough. "Give me the news on Schillinger."

"He's blind in one eye. Fucking pissed too." O'Reily smiled with all his Irish charm.

"He had his armor on, or I'd have hurt him worse. Shame." Beecher laughed softly. "I have any jizz yet?"

"Crazy jizz." O'Reily nodded. "People think you'll kill them and then recite bad poetry."

"Nursery rhymes. Fucking idiots." Beecher tried to stop laughing. He slapped on a headset and listened to Miss Sally talk about sharing. Sharing was nice. He wanted to share another shank with Schillinger. Yeah. Sharing.

"Beecher, you're a fucking loon."

Beecher realized that he'd been rhyming again. He shut up. "So, what else happened while I was gone?"

"Shake down," O'Reily said. "Hole and solitary are full."

"Shame." Beecher smiled. "I'm really looking forward to the riot. We can re-decorate."

Everyone laughed, and Beecher began to bang his cast against the leg of his chair in rhythm to the words in his head. He was lost in the iambic pentameter when suddenly Keller was sitting next to him. Beecher snarled, "That chair is taken."

"By me. Fuck off." Keller stretched out his big body. "McManus told you to stay in the pod."

"Fuck him." Beecher didn't remember that. It might be true. "You get laid while I was gone?"

"Once or twice." Keller leaned and gave Rebadow a kiss. "God's little helper is hot."

Rebadow wiped it off methodically. Hill laughed. O'Reily was already somewhere else, and Beecher smiled at the old, confused man. "Don't worry, Rebadow. I won't kill you in a fit of jealousy."

"Not me. No. But it's coming." Rebadow's eyes were spooky.

Beecher looked away. He clamped his teeth around a crazy rhyme and let himself really look at Keller. Keller was hot, smoking hot, but he was one of them - Schillinger's minion. Damn shame.

"Beecher and I have a business arrangement, nothing more," Keller said with his God-I'm-fucking-bored voice.

"Fucks Are Us." Beecher wanted to hit him. With a chair. Yeah. "I do his laundry, he fucks me happy. It works."

Rebadow stood up. "God says otherwise." He shuffled off.

Keller's eyes were cold and distant when Beecher got around to looking at him. "What? You said it. I agreed. We got nothing. We had nothing"

"Nothing is right," Keller thrust the words right Beecher's face. "You're nothing."

"And that's the way I like it" Beecher jumped up and words spilled from his mouth. They made no sense, but they jumbled together in perfect rhyme. At the end of it, he lashed out with his hand and slapped Keller across the face. "Fucking traitor."

Keller was up and shoving him down instantly. CO's converged, and Beecher let himself be manhandled to the pod. Keller found another chair in front of the TV. Twice, their eyes met, and it burned between them. Beecher wished he'd have used his cast, now that would've hurt. He beat it against the glass. One, two, three, four, five, six . . .


Keller lost count of the times Beecher smacked the glass after ten. Beecher was worse than crazy; he was fucking crazy furious, and after count, they'd be within spitting distance for hours. Keller sighed and wanted to get thrown in the hole, but it was full. He should've scored some painkillers. That would have slowed Beecher down. Fucker.

"Can Beecher move in my pod?" It was one of the faggots. "If you two are on the outs."

Keller wanted to kill him, but doggedly held on to his temper. "Fuck off."

"Beecher can top me any day, any time." The faggot laughed and strutted away. Keller fingered his shank and wanted to kill someone. He looked at the pod. Beecher was staring, again, and he looked insane. He was. Keller hated this crap. Prison was bad enough without constant drama. All he'd wanted was some quiet and the occasional blowjob" Was it too fucking much to ask? He strolled down to their pod and went inside before a hack could stop him.

"What's up, Keller?"

"Toby, there's about an hour before count. We're going to fight about this now, so I have time to move to another pod," Keller said softly.

"Good idea." Beecher turned from the window, and they were face to face. "Chris."

Keller liked it when Beecher said that, and it rattled him for a moment. "I was going to kill Schillinger, not you."

"Bullshit. Vern's your old buddy" Beecher's eyes were full of craziness.

"He'd paid the hack to look the other way. I had to play it just right." Keller spread his hands. "And make it look like an accident."

"I'll get a shovel for the shit." Beecher never looked away. "You were upset you had to kill your non-stop source for blowjobs. That's it"

Keller shook his head. "You're wrong. You're fucking crazy, and you're wrong."
"I'm nothing but your loser prag." Beecher recited some crazy rhyme and did ten one-legged jumping jacks. Keller stared in amazement. He couldn't love this fucker. Rebadow had to be wrong. What was love anyway? Nothing but pain. Beecher smiled. "I'm nothing"

"Not to me." Keller left the pod before he struck Beecher down dead, because this kind of love was wrong. Wrong. Powerful. Terrible. Damn. God.


Beecher sat down on the floor. He hit his cast three times. "Love stinks. Fucking Jagger was right. Yeah. Yeah." He giggled. Keller was full of shit, but it could be true. He hadn't jumped in on Schillinger's side. That would have put an end to Tobias Beecher for good. It wouldn't be so bad to die. Beecher got up, reached under his pillow, and took out his pictures to stare at his lovely children. They should have a father, but he wasn't the man to do it. He'd been a crappy father before prison, and now look at him, nothing but a piece of shit.

"If you believe that, Schillinger wins."

Beecher put the pictures away carefully. He didn't look at Wittlesey. She should mind her own business.

"You want him to win?" She kept at it. "You want him to laugh?"

"No." Beecher clenched his fists.

"Then be a man. No one thinks you’re a prag, anymore. It's something." Wittlesey had her nightstick out, and she poked him with it. "I want quiet tonight. If you and Keller fight, I'll beat him senseless in front of you."

Beecher swallowed his spit. She looked as crazy as he felt. "I hear you."

"Good." She put her stick away and left him. Beecher rubbed his eyes. He wouldn't fight. Not with Keller. Not unless there was a reason or . . .


Beecher managed to get in line. He hummed a Rolling Stones tune and watched Keller stride to his place. Keller didn't look at him, not directly. Beecher didn't glare at him, no, he watched Wittlesey. She was twirling her nightstick. It was a promise.

"Come on."

Beecher hated that condescending tone. "After you, fuckwad."

Keller reached for him. Beecher shoved him back. Men cheered. "Beecher" Get him"
Wittlesey hit Keller across the lower back. Beecher surprised himself by catching Keller as he fell, gasping. She raised it again. "Inside."

Beecher tromped on the insane urge to giggle and dragged Keller into the pod. Keller couldn't seem to breathe, and Beecher let him hit the floor. "That was fun. I thought she was serious."

Keller came up fighting. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, but I'm going to kill you"

"Nope." Beecher pointed at Wittlesey, she watched. "She told me that if we fought, she'd beat you, not me. I was simply ascertaining the fact of whether or not she was prevaricating."

"You crazy fucker" Keller rubbed his back and moved away from him. "Crazy"

"Yes." Beecher waved at her. "I'd like to see her hit you once or twice more."

Keller sat down on his bunk. "I didn't betray you. You stabbed Schillinger before I had a chance to do anything"

Beecher cocked his head to the side and listened to the rhythm of the beat. Was Keller talking? "Later, your lips - my cock."


"Or she whacks you into tomorrow." Beecher rubbed his hands together. He finally understood jizz. He should have used it earlier. "I would've begged, but this is better."

"You said you had AIDS." Keller went to wash his face. "And I think you will beg."

Beecher crouched down by the door and stared out at nothing. He had no reason to believe anything. The truth was hard and simple. He was here, and he'd stay here until someone he didn't know decided he'd suffered enough. "I loved you, Chris."

"You still do. Rebadow told me, and he knows everything." Keller was still by the sink. He didn't sound happy.

"I'm going to kill the Nazi." Beecher switched his gaze to Schillinger's empty pod. "But first, you."

"And that guard that pissed on you?"

"Oh, him too." Beecher turned only his head to stare up at Keller. "I decided that while I was in the hole."
Keller got on his bunk. "Well, I still have some time."

"Not all that much." Beecher stood and began to pace. "Killing you will be the hardest, but if I don't, you'll whack me. So, fair is fair."

"Toby, don't be dumb. You get out in a few years. Don't fuck it up by killing a bunch of people that don't mean shit." Keller was a fucker.

Beecher hit his cast into the bed. "You loved me?"

Keller shrugged. "If I did, would you still kill me?"

"Definitely. In fact, if you do, it's more reason to kill you." Beecher watched his feet move. He didn't want to love him. "Schillinger will use you against me."

"Not when he's dead." Keller had a great voice, and he knew how to drop it low and make it sound so serious.

"Yeah." Beecher grinned. "Okay, I'll kill you last."

"I'm good with that."


"He's back in Keller's pod. They're fighting like two cats in a bag"

Schillinger smiled at the stupid, but loyal CO. "Perfect. Beecher will be in the hole before long. Right back into your loving arms."

The CO nodded. "I'm looking forward to it."


Keller got on his bunk and tried to ignore Beecher, crazy fucker. The skin magazines were starting to wear out, so he opened his library book. Might as well read.

"You don't mind?" Beecher had a confused look on his face.

"Better than staying here for life." Keller tried to find his place in the book. It was hard with his podmate constantly pacing and rhyming. "You want to move out?"

Beecher stopped, stared at him, and pulled his hair. "Nah. I like you."

Keller began to feel like he'd fallen down Alice's hole, but this sure as fuck wasn't Wonderland. "So, how you going to do it? Poison, knives, guns, drugs, or convince your CO buddy Wittlesey to do it?"
"Think she would?"

"Nope." Keller tossed his book aside. It was hopeless. "You do realize that a lifetime in solitary will really suck."

"I'm praying for the death penalty." Beecher squatted down and began to rock.

"Well then. That changes everything. I thought you were trying to get away with it" Keller got off the bunk and made enough room for his pushups. He had to shove Beecher out of the way. Beecher growled. Keller saw Wittlesey take a step, and he started exercising fast.

"I'm gonna kill him," Beecher repeated.

Keller didn't answer that. He had heard it enough. "Beech, you need to get a fucking grip. You're not the only prag to go through this shit place. Your suffering ain't any worse than anyone else's."

"I'm starting to dislike you."

Keller laughed. It was going to be a long night.


The lights snapped out, and Beecher got off the top bunk without hesitating. His cock was already hard. "Get your mouth over here."

"Fuck off." Keller laced his hands behind his head and smiled.

Beecher paused. Did he really want a man that would kill him? Yes. Badly. They'd try to kill each other later. Maybe. He pulled his boxers open and pointed. "Now. Or I'll make sure Wittlesey takes you down."

"Toby, the thing about jizz is to use it sparingly. Fine. Get the bitch. A man always has choices. You need to start picking the ones you can fucking live with." Keller didn't move.

Beecher sat on the edge of the bunk. He had to think about that, but the rhymes were interfering. "Please?"

Keller moved fast, Beecher found himself on his back, pinned. Beecher arched up, and his arms were held down. Keller grunted softly and shoved against him. "You'll miss this when I'm gone."

"Yeah." Beecher wanted to fight, for more, harder. "I loved you."

"I know." Keller started at the top and licked his way down. Beecher groaned. He lost his ability to rhyme and struggled weakly. Keller was suddenly in Beecher's face again. "Tonight, we're going to do something different."

Beecher nodded. "Suck me" Keller reached, and Beecher felt the cloth tie his arm to the bed rail. "No. No. No."

Keller smiled and kissed him until his arms were secure. Beecher began to fight in earnest, but it was useless, and he was glad of it. Keller licked his way down, ripped off the boxers, but stopped short. "I'll never go any lower unless you ask, politely."

"Fuck you," Beecher whispered and tried to shove up. Keller's big body held him down and the licking made it hard to remember what they were talking about. "Ask for what?"

Keller swirled his tongue over Beecher's hipbone. "Beg for my mouth on your cock. You said you would."

"I did not" Beecher groaned and tried to shove himself down Keller's throat. "Shit. Okay. Please suck my cock."

"I can tell you don't really care." Keller licked his way up and sucked Beecher's nipples. Beecher gasped and pushed his cock into the warm skin of Keller's chest. Keller laughed and whispered, "Toby."

Hearing his name pushed Beecher in a direction he hadn't wanted to go, but he was there now. "Please" Chris, please suck me."

Keller chuckled and licked downwards. Beecher's cock pulsed and he yanked harder on the strips when Keller's mouth enveloped him. Keller made him beg and beg some more, and he sobbed softly when the big cock, slicked with something, shoved inside him.

"More, Toby?"

"Damn you. Damn. You. Yes" Beecher knew he was lost. He'd lost so much, everything - but he had this, and no matter how crazy he got, he'd never give it up. Never.

Keller moved his hips. "I loved you too."

Beecher orgasmed instantly, again, and he spiraled to the edge of consciousness. Keller kept him there for hours.


Lights on. Horn blared. Keller rolled off the bunk and landed on the floor. He ached in a good way from fucking Beecher all night long. Beecher groaned, and the sound was satisfying.
"Want some breakfast, Beech?"

"Yeah." Beecher looked over the side of the bunk. "They aren't serving it on the floor."

"They should." Keller pushed up to his feet and went to piss. "Who's going with me? The nut or the lawyer?"

"Some of each." Beecher slid down and took his turn at the toilet. "You weren't going to kill me?"

"Hell no." Keller slipped into his clothes. "Best blowjobs I've ever had" And you do laundry."

Beecher stared at him and began to laugh. Keller threw him his clothes. They walked together to breakfast, but Beecher sat on the opposite side of the table - for a change. Keller watched the Aryans and bikers. This wasn't over. Beecher acted as if he didn't have a brain in his head. Keller rolled his orange. He had a feeling it was going to be a strange day. Maybe it was God talking to him.


Beecher smirked when he saw Schillinger escorted to his pod. The Nazi was a pirate" Fucking hilarious. O'Reily gave him a nudge. "Nice work."

"It's a proud day for me." Beecher stretched up and gave Schillinger the finger.

"Want to get high?"

"I want to enjoy this au naturel." Beecher laughed and found a rhyme that fit the occasion. "Mama dear, Mama dear, we have lost our eye" Your eye" Your eye" You naughty little Nazi, you shall have no pie"

"Good one." Keller crossed his arms and shut his eyes. "Now things are going to get interesting."

Beecher got to his feet. "I'm due in the infirmary." He made his way through the crowd watching Miss Sally. Schillinger was hiding on his bunk. It was his turn. Beecher grinned and got moving. Today his cast came off, and he was ready.

Dr. Nathan gave him another thorough examination. "Is your leg better?"

"Sure." Beecher shrugged. "How'd you hear about it?"

"Sister Peter Marie. She worries about you." Dr. Nathan smiled. "Let's cut this cast off."

"Good idea. I've got people to kill." Beecher smiled at her. He did like her. "Just joking."
"I hope so. I'm busy enough" Dr. Nathan put the saw to work. "Hold very still."

Beecher watched closely, held still, and fantasized that it was Schillinger's head they were sawing in half. "I'm off tits."

"I know." Dr. Nathan peeled the cast apart and lifted his arm out. "Looks good. You'll get the muscle back fast."

"Keller's been teaching me how to lift weights." Beecher flexed the arm carefully. Good enough to kill a Nazi. "Have you ever wanted to kill a man?"

"No." Dr. Nathan worked on Beecher's chart. "Don't mess up the rest of your life."

"Too fucking late." Beecher got off the table and put on his shirt. "Like my tattoo?"

Dr. Nathan shrugged and left him. She was nice. Sexy too. Beecher spotted Alvarez and a crazy idea formed in his head. He didn't have any other kind. "Hey, Alvarez"

"What do you want, you crazy fuck?"

"How much for three of those pills?" Beecher slipped some money from his pocket. "Just three."

"Ten dollars." Alvarez held out his hand.

Beecher gave it to him. "Later?"

"They'll be delivered." Alvarez backed away. He didn't like prags or crazies, and Beecher was both. Beecher smiled. He wasn't insulted. Still smiling, he went back to Em City. This was going to be fun.

Keller caught up with him before count. "Why the huge, stupid grin?"

"I bought some pills off Alvarez."

"The good ones?"

"Yeah, baby. Vern's gonna love them." Beecher laughed. "Want to help?"

"Sure." Keller cracked his knuckles and looked over his shoulder. "What's the plan?"


Keller shook his head. "You'll lose your jizz, what little you have."

"Don't care." Beecher flexed his arm, again. "It'll be worth it."
"Crazy fucker. Okay. I'll help ya." Keller didn't want to, but he'd be careful not to hurt Beecher - not too much. "Are you going to cry?"

"Probably." Beecher leaned against the stairs. "Kiss me."

Keller checked for hacks and took Beecher deeper underneath the stairs. They kissed, and Beecher used his healed arm to rub him. Shit. Felt good. Keller pushed and groped. Damn.

"Break it up"

Beecher snarled and threw himself at the hack, but Keller caught him by the shirt and shook him. "Stop it, Toby"

The hack was ready to take a swing, and Keller shook him again. "Apologize"

"Sorry, sir," Beecher choked out the words. His eyes were red-hot, and he looked about as sorry as a serial killer on crack cocaine.

"Get out of here." The hack pointed, and Keller dragged Beecher with him until they walked side by side.

"Touch me like that again and I'll cut your balls off"

Keller laughed. "You stupid prick. You can't even do it for a hack. You think you can apologize to Schillinger? Asshole. You'd eat ground glass first"

Beecher growled some obscenities. "I can do it"

"No fucking way." Keller stopped at the door of their pod. "Go up to his pod now and get started. Do it"

"No." Beecher took a deep breath. "Waste of time."

Keller leaned against the glass. "You'll have to grovel and grovel, or he'll never believe it."

Beecher rubbed his face. Keller saw the signs. Beecher was close to rhyming. He frowned and finally answered, "Let's go. I can do it."

"It's a good plan. When he croaks, you'll be above reproach."

"Talk like a lawyer and I'll kiss you again." Beecher rubbed his arm. He did that. Maybe it itched. Keller didn't know. They went upstairs together, and the Nazis barred the way, until Schillinger gave them the nod.

Keller made sure his shank was easy to get at and shoved Beecher through the doorway hard. "Get on your knees"

Beecher stared at him, but slowly dropped to his knees. He looked wretched. "Please, Keller. Don't make-"

"Don't argue. Do it" Keller wished he could shank Vern and get it over with, but they'd play this Beecher's way for now.

"I - I -" Beecher hid his face in his hands.

Schillinger finally opened his mouth. "What's this all about, Keller?"

"Prag's going to apologize." Keller took Beecher by the hair and shook him. "He's crazier than a fucking bed bug, but last night, we had a long talk, and he's damn sorry."

"Is that right, Tobias?" Schillinger put his boot in Beecher's lap. Keller could see Beecher struggling not to go insane.

"I'm sorry, sir. Really sorry."

"You are a sorry, little prag. Did you enjoy those beatings I arranged?" Schillinger smiled.

Keller waited for Beecher to force out another sentence. When it didn't happen, Keller let loose of Beecher's hair and smacked him across the back of the head. "Answer him"

Beecher cowered. "Yes, sir."

"I knew you would." Schillinger ground his boot. Keller knew that hurt, but Beecher was taking it. Schillinger didn't ease up. "Bitcher, lick Keller's boots clean and thank him for not killing you."

Beecher tried to fly up off the floor, but Keller held him down. Their eyes met, and sparks flew. Keller waited. Beecher would make his decision, and he did. His tongue went to work, and Keller was sure Beecher's heart raged. When Keller's boots were clean, Beecher looked up. "Thank you, Chris."

"No problem, Toby." Keller smiled grimly. "You're going to be polite from now on, right?"

"Yes, sir." Beecher lowered his head. "I'm sorry, sir."

Schillinger stood up. "If he'd have done this earlier, we wouldn't have had that nasty scene in the library, and I'd still have my eye"

"You should've come to me yourself instead of sending your boy" Keller raged. He was furious at Beecher for coming up with this stupid plan. "Your fucking mistake"

"I haven't forgotten that you laughed." Schillinger's one eye glared. "Prick."

"It's always funny when the bitch bites his owner." Keller slapped the back of Beecher's head again.

"Watch your back, Keller. Bitcher will be there." Schillinger kicked Beecher in the guts, and they both watched him go down.

Keller had had enough of this stupid scene. "Later, Vern."

"Later." Schillinger turned away in dismissal. Keller pulled Beecher to his feet and tossed him out. The other Nazi's laughed, and one gave Beecher another kick. Keller yanked him up and got him down the stairs.

"You're still a dumb fuck," Keller whispered.

"Turn me loose, asshole," Beecher whispered back, and Keller did instantly, for more reason than one.

"What the hell is going on?" McManus shouted.

Keller raised his hands. "Beecher needed some help. I was just being nice."

"Right." McManus didn’t seem to believe it.

 Beecher crumpled to the floor.

"What the fuck did you do?" McManus glared.

"I apologized to Schillinger." Beecher held his guts. They most likely ached. Keller eased further away. Wittlesey was around here somewhere. Crazy bitch.

"Good," McManus snapped. "Maybe this is over"

Beecher nodded. "I was scared. I didn't mean to do it."

Keller nearly rolled his eyes and laughed, and McManus was falling for it. Did the fucker never learn?

"That's what I told the warden." McManus nodded. "Stay away from the Nazis."

"Sure," Beecher gasped. "I'm sorry."

Keller went ahead and snorted. "I'm going to throw up." He walked off to hunt up Hill and the new Hustler.


Beecher stumbled to his pod and collapsed on the bed. He'd brush his teeth when he had some air in his body. Fuckers. God damn them all to hell. He'd done it, but he'd hated it. It would be worth it only when Schillinger was dead, and Keller might have to pay for it tonight when the lights went out.

"Here's your delivery." Alvarez tossed a small bag. It hit Beecher in the chest. "I had to substitute something else."

"As long as they're strong." Beecher stuck the bag in his pants for now.

"Good shit, man. Take more than one and it'll kill ya." Alvarez strutted away.

Beecher didn't move again until he could breath and the incessant rhyming had stopped. He brushed his teeth thoroughly. Keller's damn boots were clean though. Fucker.

"You still mad?"

Beecher put everything away carefully and took three steps to put him within striking distance. The instant before he lashed out, he spotted Schillinger, not far away and watching intently. The prag had to lower his head and mutter, "Yeah."

Keller pulled Beecher into an embrace. "This was your idea," he whispered. "I like crazy Toby."

Beecher wanted to crumble into the dangerous strength that was Chris Keller. "He's a fucking nut." He could see Schillinger still there and smiling now. Fucking Nazi pirate. "Yank my head back and force me to my knees."

Keller's face went dark. "He's watching?"

"Yes." Beecher struggled a little. Keller put him down hard and fast. Beecher gasped from the real shock of it. Keller's strength and surety was always a little frightening. "Easy."

"I don't do anything easy. You should know that by now, Toby." Keller shoved him flat.

Beecher stayed on the floor while Keller walked away. He rocked a little and hummed. It would be worth it. A piece of cloth hung from the side of the bunk, and he pulled it out and held it loosely. Keller tied him before fucking him. Beecher didn't know why, but he'd stopped fighting it. It always felt good. Keller made it good; sometimes so good that Beecher thought he might never walk again. Beecher rubbed his groin. His parts ached from the big, Nazi boot earlier.

"Won't be long and you'll be wearing lipstick again."

Beecher stuffed the cloth strip back under Keller's pillow and climbed into his own bunk. He wanted to shout and throw things. Biting it all back was painful. "Leave me alone, Vern."

Schillinger stepped inside. "I'm enjoying this new development in your relationship with Killer Keller. I think you're going to attack me again. After your time in the hole, Keller will make you apologize. I like it."

Beecher kept his mouth shut. He wasn't going to be provoked. They were going to do this his way, whether Schillinger knew it or not. "I've had enough beatings."

"No. I've only begun." Schillinger turned on his heel and stomped out. Beecher put his hand on the glass and pushed. The lawyer in him knew he was playing a dangerous game that might get him killed. The Nazi prag with the swastika on his ass didn't give a damn, and Crazy Toby wanted to slice Schillinger into ribbons and laugh.


Again. Stupid fuckers. Where did they think the prisoners would go? Home? He slid down, went out, and ignored Keller. When the hack finished, he went inside and got back on his bunk. He shut his eyes and tried to go elsewhere. Time passed. It must have because the lights snapped off. He got down and hid the pills under the tile. They were for later. Stripping off his clothes, he considered the matter of Keller.

"Come here so I can hold you." Keller's voice was soft.

"Don't you mean tie me down?" Beecher didn't move. He hadn't made up his mind, not yet.

"If you want." Keller didn't reach out, and he shouldn't. "I was thinking you might be sore from that boot on your balls."

Beecher sat down on the edge of the bunk. "Were you hugging me earlier?"

"What if I was?" Keller growled. "You looked awful."

Beecher crawled and lay inside Keller's arms. "Schillinger was here."

"I was around the corner." Keller squeezed and started rubbing him. It felt so good just to be held. Beecher groaned softly and relaxed into the warmth. He hated the fact that he needed this so much. Keller kissed him on the forehead. "Everyone blames me for you caving in to the Nazi. Rebadow about spit on me."

Beecher was surprised to hear it. "They think you made me do it?"

"Yep. You'll do anything to stay in my good graces, and I'm nothing but a shithead."

"Got that right." Beecher chuckled. "Poor Keller. So misunderstood."

Keller gripped him tightly and rubbed him. "Vern is weak now. He'll lose his standing if we give him the right push."

Beecher couldn't argue with that. "Why do you hate him?"

"I don't hate him," Keller said instantly. "We're old friends. Just ask him."

Beecher shut his eyes and kissed the smooth skin underneath Keller's mouth. He needed more answers, but Keller would never give them to him. "I'll ask Sister Pete."

Keller didn't answer. He stroked his hand down Beecher's body and cradled Beecher's balls. Beecher gasped. He didn't dare struggle. Keller started to kiss him. "Not too sore, huh?"

"No," Beecher gasped. He tried to think, but the heat was overcoming all of his personalities. "Don't tie me, please."

Keller grinned and kissed him. "You like it that way. Otherwise, you'd have to live with the fact that you want my big cock grinding its way up your soft ass."

Beecher felt his control snap. He started to yell, and Keller's big hand smacked down over his mouth. Beecher tried to kick Keller's balls, and he must have succeeded partially because next thing he knew he was slammed into the floor. Keller was through playing nice. Beecher got up fast. He wanted to throw himself at Keller but big feet promised more pain if he tried.

"I hate you"

"Back at ya."

Beecher went to the door and squatted down to stare out. His hard cock swayed. He never considered that turning his back on Keller wasn't too smart, but he would in the future. His head banged into the floor, and he saw stars. Fighting off the strong hands was impossible, but he tried. He did. "Chris, no, don't. Come on"

"I'm a shit." Keller grinned unrepentantly. He trailed his hands across Beecher's bound arms. Beecher laid his head back on the top bunk and shuddered. He should try to kick him, but Keller was too close. "Toby."


"Nothing. I just like saying your name." Keller laughed and kissed him viciously. "Fuck with me, Toby, and I'll fuck with you."

Beecher didn't try to figure that out. His outstretched arms pulled at the restraints. Keller wouldn't quit until he was satisfied, and that usually took half the night. Pleasure mixed with anger until Beecher wanted to howl. Keller hadn't allowed that either.

"Like the gag?"

Beecher chewed it silently. His legs had wanted to give out ages ago; right after his cock had nearly been sucked off his body. He'd given up trying to understand why Keller was doing this. Teach him a lesson? Make him crazier? It didn't make any difference. Keller was stronger, and so, Beecher was the one without his arms tied. That was the only truth to be discovered here tonight. That and the fact that the hacks seemed to be on vacation.

"Still going to kill me?"

Beecher let his head sag down.

Keller stroked down Beecher's body, softly. "I didn't think so. Your Toby-the-prag plan will work, and then we'll find a way to kill that CO. It's you and me, Toby, until you get paroled."

Beecher wrapped his leg around Keller's thigh and pulled. He let out a soft grunt in acceptance, but there'd be some revenge for this at some point. Keller laughed softly. "Again? Toby, you're a crazy guy."

Beecher knew that.


Keller didn't bother with sleep. He contented himself with keeping Beecher awake all night. That ass was perfect for everything, and Beecher was starting to get a muscle or two. Someday, he'd be too tough to take down - easily.

"You taste good," Keller muttered as he licked that sweet skin. Beecher was awake, but only barely. His ass might be sore tomorrow from the different position, but he'd live. A sore ass would help him remember that he was playing the prag. "Don't worry. They'll ring the horn eventually."

Beecher gave another soft grunt. Keller removed the gag, kissed him gently, and then rough, deep. He used his tongue like his cock. Beecher gave and gave. He was like that. "Chris, please."

"Please what?" Keller kissed down him again, pushing his fingers back inside where they belonged.

"Turn me loose."

"Nah, not until Schillinger sees you. He always leaves his pod early and strides past." Keller teased another finger deep and kept them moving. "He'll spend all day gloating."

"I - I - I might lose it"

"You might." Keller really thought that Beecher had one more orgasm in him. "You can play the poor prag. Just remember that it's all my fault."

"It sure as fuck is" Beecher's hips began to move. "Chris. Stop"

Keller relished the sound of his name on Beecher's lips. He lifted Beecher's legs and sheathed himself again - the last time. The bunks groaned, and Keller didn't thrust, no, he flexed and rocked. Felt so damn good. "Give me all you got, Toby."

Beecher whipped his head back and forth. "Christ."

"Exactly, baby." Keller stuck his tongue in Beecher's mouth and forced him to come. Beecher made noises like he was dying. Keller laughed and took his own pleasure more slowly, but he got there and it was fucking fantastic. "Toby, you're mine and you're going to stay that way."

Beecher seemed to be through talking. He did nothing more than moan. Satisfied, Keller put Beecher's legs down. He cleaned up, but left Beecher dirty. Beecher was done. The only thing that held him up was the last bit of strength in his legs. Keller smiled. He should've taken that also. Slipping past Beecher's body, he stretched out on the bunk to wait for lights. Prison sucked, but last night had taken him somewhere far away for a few hours. He dozed and waited. The instant the lights flickered on, he moved to his clothes and made sure of everyone's position. Beecher didn't even groan. He might be asleep, on his feet.

Here came Schillinger, he was a man with a schedule. Keller went to wash his face. He counted the seconds. Wittlesey would be along also.

"Shit" Schillinger stopped and began to laugh. Keller looked out the door at the Nazi and dried his face. Schillinger stepped inside. "I admire your handiwork."

"Beecher needed a lesson." Keller crossed his arms. "You're going to back off."
Schillinger raised his hands. "I see that. I'll leave this matter in your competent hands."

"Too bad about your face." Keller tried to sound sincere, even though he wasn't, in the least.

"I should have spoken to you directly." Schillinger laughed again. "I forgot what a cornered bitch can do."

Keller began to sweat. Wittlesey would be by within moments, but Schillinger was finished, and he went away laughing. Keller took Beecher down instantly, rolling him onto the bottom bunk and hiding the cloth strips.

"Problem, Keller?"

Keller whirled. "He's asleep. I was just shaking him awake."

"I doubt it." Wittlesey had her stick out. Keller smiled his charming best, and it did exactly no good whatsoever because Beecher groaned and clutched his stomach. Normal people had no idea how much a nightstick could hurt. It drove the air from a man's body. She put her boot on Keller's chest. "Has Schillinger fucked Scott Ross yet?"

Keller blinked in shock. He hesitated, but answered, "I don't think so, not for lack of trying."

"Damn." Wittlesey raised her stick.

"Why you protecting Beecher?" Keller asked fast. He didn't get it.

"Why not?" Wittlesey hit him again. Pain blossomed down the side of his face and he faded out.


Beecher didn't move until Wittlesey was gone. She was almost as crazy as he was. Keller was unconscious, slumped on the floor. Beecher wanted to kick him in the ribs, but instead he cradled him. "Come on, Chris. Wake up."

Keller groaned, but didn't open his eyes. Beecher saw the wet towel, reached for it, and wiped Keller's bruised and bloodied face with it. "Chris, shit, I love you."

"Please don't tell Rebadow," Keller groaned out. His hands gripped Beecher's arms tightly. Beecher pulled him up, and they held onto each other.

"Break it up, girls."

They looked away and went opposite directions. Keller went back to the sink, and Beecher took the towel and started to clean up. Beecher groaned softly at each stroke of the wetness against his body. Lawyers always have good vocabularies, but he couldn't ever remember feeling sated until now. Sated, exhausted, and replete from everything Keller had given and taken from him last night.

"You going to sleep?"

"I'm hungry. Can't imagine why." Beecher found some clothes and pulled them on. "I will get revenge."

"Sure." Keller put on another shirt. "Do my laundry later, will ya?"

"Okay." Beecher shrugged. "I'm thinking you'll look good in pink."

"It'll be a new color for me." Keller came towards him. "Don't forget to be a prag today."

"My sore ass will remind me." Beecher threw the towel at Keller.

"My part of the plan is going well." Keller laughed and went out of the pod. Beecher didn't bother brushing his hair and went after him. If he stumbled from fatigue once or twice, he ignored it. Damn, he was tired. All of him ached, his arms and ass especially. He ignored the looks from Rebadow, Hill, and O'Reily and ate his breakfast.

"Get Schillinger's tray," Keller said loudly. "And don't argue."

Beecher lowered his head and did it. Schillinger laughed. He was falling for it. Someday soon, Beecher would get him some coffee that they’d buy special from O’Reily and that would be the end of him. At least, that was the plan. It'd take time, and he'd have to live through a few humiliations, but if Schillinger were dead, it'd be worth it. Keller swatted Beecher's ass on the way out of the cafeteria, and Beecher set off to stumble through his day.

"Tobias, you look exhausted"

"Yeah." Beecher slumped down in his chair. He picked up his glasses - he left them here now - and opened the first file. "How long have you known Keller?"


"He told me that if I messed with you, he'd stick a shank in me." Beecher started typing. This was mindless work. He could do it and think of other things. "Got me to thinking."

Sister Pete made a noise that could have been surprise or disgust, or both. "He's dangerous, Toby. Don't ever forget it."

"I won't." Beecher's ass would remind him all day. He managed to stay awake until he was doing laundry. Nothing to do but close his eyes, and he was asleep instantly.


Schillinger watched Bitcher sleep for a few minutes. Little prag was worn out. Funny that. Keller had worn the bitch to the bone. Fucking funny.

"We gonna whack him?" Mack was always eager to kill. It made him a good Nazi.

"Keller has him on a short leash, so he can live. For now." Schillinger knew he should have Beecher killed, but the entertainment of watching him suffer was much more satisfying. "I do think it's time for Beecher to go back to the hole."

"I'll do it." Mack smiled.

"Good. Give him a week. I want to see him beg some more."


"Come on, Toby. Push out another five"

Beecher grunted and his arms shook. His form sucked. "Can't."

"Pussy." Keller picked up the weight and started doing corn rows. "Rest for a minute while I do these, but then it's your turn."

"Shit." Beecher rubbed his face with a towel. "Lawyers don't need muscles."

"You’re a fucking convict." Keller grunted but kept the weight moving. "Get used to it"

"Whatever." Beecher shut his eyes and slumped.

"Hey prag. I need my cock sucked."

Keller whipped around and dropped the weight. "Back off, Mack."

"I don't want to." Mack grabbed Beecher by the shirt and shook him. "He's a prag. It's not like he hasn't done it before"

"Fuck off" Beecher shoved Mack back and away.

Keller could smell a set up. "Toby, don't. He's trying to mess with you."

Beecher's face contorted when Mack whipped out his cock. "Come on, Bitcher. You loved it - the first time. Oh, and the second."
Everyone in the gym laughed and pushed closer. Beecher shoved Mack back through the gate. Mack laughed. Keller grabbed for Beecher, but it was too late. Beecher lashed out with the weight he picked up, and the hacks rushed in the door. Keller leaned against the chain link fence and watched Beecher take a beating. If that didn't teach him that he was nothing but a number, it was hopeless.


Beecher stared up at the light and made a dirt angel. He didn't think he was as crazy as last time, but it was close. Rolling to his side, he curled up and tried to sleep. He was so fucking tired that he could've slept on his feet, except that he was too tired to sleep.

"Beecher, whose fault was it this time?"

Beecher sat up and gave McManus his attention. "Oh, I hit him first. He wanted a blowjob."

"Sounds about right." McManus rubbed his forehead. "Shit"

"Yeah." Beecher laughed. "I'd hate to have your job. You make much per year?"

McManus stared at him and then began to laugh. "Not enough"

"I hear you." Beecher stood up and rotated around to show McManus the entire package. "Count the bruises. And I'm not limping."

"Do I have to?" McManus sighed. "Fine."

Beecher leaned against the wall and smiled. "This place could use some curtains."

McManus left in a huff. He was so emotional. He'd have never made a good lawyer, and he sucked at this job. The door opened back up, and Beecher waited for it. The blond CO smirked at him. "Ready?"

"Can we skip it?" Beecher wasn't surprised in the least. He'd licked Keller's boots for nothing. Schillinger was still writing the script in their little play, but it would end. It would.

"I don't think we can."

Beecher nodded. "Well, then, let's do it right. Make it hurt."

"You really are fucking crazy."

"That's what I hear." Beecher tried to move away from the first punch, but it still managed to send him down to the floor. It hurt. Christ" A big boot pushed him to his back, and he gasped, "That all you got, pussy?"

The CO growled something incoherent, and Beecher did his part to make the beating a bloody one. McManus was a fool, but he wasn't stupid. He'd see the truth. Beecher would have to survive until then.


"He bleeding?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Good job." Schillinger handed him some money. "Do it again tomorrow."

"That one's free. Fucker pissed on me."

Schillinger smirked. "Good 'ole Bitcher."


Keller pulled O'Reily aside. "You're connected. What's the news on Beecher?"

"Schillinger's pet CO is beating the shit out of him - daily." O'Reily frowned. "It's ugly."

"I'm going to have to put a stop to that." Keller had thought so from Schillinger's bragging. "Thanks."

"You owe me." O'Reily went off, and Keller played the best card in his deck - Sister Peter Marie. She had the jizz to get Beecher out of there.


Beecher spat blood in the bucket. When he'd been sentenced to prison, he'd known it was going to be bad, but they really hadn't prepared him for the reality of it. He put his head on his knees and prayed, for something, anything, to take this pain away, even for just a minute.

"Toby Beecher? Sister Peter Marie asked me to pray with you."

Beecher didn't look up. Whoever it was needed to go the fuck away.


"Yeah, what?" Beecher raised his face and tried to focus the eye that would open.
"Christ, God in heaven."

"He ain't here. Haven't seen him at all." Beecher didn't know Father Mukada very well. "I'm not Catholic."

"Um, it says here that you are. I'll have to fix that." The priest was lying. "Would you like to pray together?"

"You go pray. Somewhere safe. He's coming. He's coming." Beecher lowered his face again. "He's coming." He heard the door slam, and he was glad. The priest would be easy to hurt, and the CO was ruthless. Beecher held himself tighter. He could live through this. Christ had suffered. Or was it Chris? Chris had suffered. Beecher rubbed the crucifix on his arm. Who was on the cross? He rubbed a hand through his hair. He was on the cross, but no one would take pity and kill him after three days.

"I don't believe it"

"Look at him. Just look."

"Holy shit"

Beecher felt hands on him, but he didn't care. "He's coming soon."

"Let's get him to the infirmary. Again. Dr. Nathan is going to have my ass for this"

Beecher didn't try to help. He crossed over the threshold, limp between them, hanging by his arms. "He'll be here soon."

"What the hell is he talking about?"

"I don't know. He warned me to save myself."

Beecher stopped listening and hung on the cross.


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