Title: Rules of the Game
Pairing: B/K
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: HBO owns Oz.
Summary: Chris plays the game.


"Want to play chess?"

Chris turned from not watching and shrugged. "Not tonight."

"Why not?" Toby had it out already and was fiddling with the black queen. Chris had struggled with this for the entire time he'd been pulling the wool over this fucker's eyes. He had to be nice, or nicer than he usually was. He had to stay calm, and he couldn't act like an asshole, himself. Toby smiled. It was a sweet smile. Damn, this was like leading a sheep to slaughter.

"Too many rules. Lawyers like rules. Pricks like me, not so much." Chris turned back to staring out so he didn't have to see the reaction in those puppy blue eyes.

"You're not a prick." Toby laughed.

Chris nearly banged his fist on the glass or whatever the fuck it was. He knew exactly what he was--a piece of no-good shit. And Toby, Toby didn't seem to notice. He didn't see the shit swirling in Chris's eyes, right below the surface of the smile. What a stupid asshole. Had he learned anything from Schillinger but how to bend over?

"You seem upset tonight." Toby managed to sound very concerned.

"Nope." Chris made sure his hands didn't clench, and he leaned into the corner of the pod and turned one of his stellar smiles on Toby. Toby swallowed hard. It got to him. Chris saved them, about once a day was all Toby could handle. "Just ain't in the mood for games."

Toby nodded and looked away. Chris was sick of this game, but it was almost over, not much longer, it had to be, because he wanted to choke the shit out of someone, but not Toby. No, not Toby. He wanted to bear him down and fuck the hell out of him. Fuck him.

"Shit. I'm horny," Chris muttered, and he watched carefully for Toby's reaction. Toby flinched. His eyes went wide, and Chris laughed. "Don't you ever get that way?"

"Well, sure." Toby tried to go back to staring at the chess pieces. "I try not to think about it."

Chris believed that, but he was one of those guys that thought of little else. He wanted to fuck someone about every day. Twice would be better. Schillinger had fucked Toby over good. Glance at Toby's prick and he about crawled up the wall. No surprise. Schillinger was hard on his prags, and Toby might never want a man's touch again, but he'd want Chris. Toby would want him. Chris knew it. Felt it in his bones. The kindness was pushing Toby right to where Chris wanted him, and then they'd break him.

"You have any family?"

Chris blinked and almost cursed at him. He bit back his snarl and said mildly, "Just me and my smile."

Toby smiled at him. Stupid fuck. Chris stepped over to the sink, but intentionally brushed against Toby's back. Simple touches were the best. Ones that Toby couldn't complain about. Chris would get rougher later. He stripped off his wife-beater and splashed water on his face. He wanted to pour it on his cock. Jacking off was going to be required tonight, and he'd picture Toby's sweet mouth working on him, instead of talking. Shit. Now he had a hard on that even a fool like Toby could spot.

"Do you think men can be friends in prison or just fuck each other over?" Toby's question was soft and easy.

Chris shuddered and wrapped his nasty self tighter. This was just another mark. Someone to play and then reap the reward. "You're friends with O'Reily." And Chris didn't much like it.

"Kinda. Yeah. He's usually got more going than I can handle."

Chris believed that. Toby couldn't handle much of anything. It had all been fucked out of him. Chris pushed his cock over and got on his bunk. He sprawled like he usually did and made sure not to laugh at Toby's uncomfortable reaction. Now Toby put the board away. He shoved the locker to the end of the bed and pushed the chair into the corner. Chris watched him find his book and sit down.

"I don't want you to freak out or nothing, but I gotta jack off tonight. Just ignore it, okay?"

Toby flipped a page. "I appreciate you leaving me out of it."

Chris wondered what the fuck that meant. Toby didn't want him? Or Toby wished Chris would hold him down and take it? "I just don't want no misunderstandings that lead to you shanking me."

"As if I have one." Toby laughed.

Chris smiled now. He had wondered, and now he knew Toby was a freak of prison nature. "You ain't got one?"

"No. I don't want one." Toby looked up. His face very serious. "I've killed enough."

Chris doubted it. Schillinger would push Toby to kill again. "Good luck with that." Chris laced his fingers behind his head. No telling who Toby might try to kill after this was over. There was a ton of hurt coming Toby's way. Chris sighed softly. Schillinger should just kill his prag, instead of doing this.

"You got one?"

Chris leaned up on his elbows. "You need to borrow it?"

"No!" Toby rubbed his face. "Forget I asked."

"Will do." Chris sat up and began to take his boots off. He had to think of something nice to say, and it wasn't easy for him "You have a dog when you were a kid?"

Toby looked up and smiled. He did too much of that. Chris lay on his stomach, tucked the pillow under his chin, and listen to Toby talk about Sparkles, or some such bullshit. Toby's life was like one of those Hallmark cards, or it had been until he'd ended up putting his ass in the air for Schillinger.

"How about you?"

"Nah." Chris never gave up much of himself to anyone. It didn't pay. "I'm allergic."


Chris smiled. "I'm shitting you. We moved a lot. The dog always got left behind."

Toby laughed. "So which do I believe?"

"Whichever." Chris laughed with him. Toby. Toby. Toby. Such a sad fuck of a man that would laugh and smile with Killer Keller. Everyone else saw the devil that shined out of his blue eyes. Why not Toby? What the fuck was wrong with him? Toby went back to reading, and Chris didn't do much else beside watch him and look away when their eyes met. It was enough, for tonight.


Toby put his book away when the lights snapped off. He stretched, brushed his teeth, and took off his clothes. Getting undressed with the lights on was more Chris's style than his. Chris was hard to figure out. He wasn't at all what Toby had expected.

"Good night, Chris."

"Right." Chris laughed.

Toby climbed up on his bunk, careful to go to the end. Getting in a man's bunk space was a stupid idea, especially a man as dangerous as Chris Keller. Chris was a decent enough guy, but something lurked in his eyes that spelled trouble. He'd broken Mack's nose without even trying. Toby hated to admit that he liked him. Of course, he'd probably like anyone that hated Schillinger.

Toby shifted, got comfortable, and heard Chris groan softly. Yeah, he was jacking off. Poor guy was horny as hell. Toby never was, not that often. He worried that Schillinger had fucked it out of him. Would he ever want to touch someone again? He wasn't sure he would. His shoulder quivered where Chris had touched him. Toby should have pushed him, but it hadn't meant anything. It was a small space. They were bound to bump into each other occasionally. He rolled to his side and stared out the glass, ignoring the soft sounds below him.

"Damn," Chris whispered.

Toby echoed that. He didn't even have the urge to jack off. What the fuck was wrong with him? Chris was off the bunk, and Toby didn't roll over to watch him wash his hands. That would be asking for trouble. Toby lay quietly and was glad when Chris got back on the bunk. That was done. They could sleep now.


Chris smiled. He felt so much better now. It was easy to spurt, when he knew Toby was listening and maybe wishing he could lend a hand or mouth. Toby did like him, and that would lead to other things. Chris hoped it happened before Schillinger broke Toby into pieces.

"Feel better?"

Chris laughed at the sarcasm. "Yeah." He felt almost human again. He might not have to shove Toby down and fuck him. Well, not tonight. "You should try it."

"No. Thanks."

Chris could hear how serious Toby was. "Why the fuck not?"

Toby said nothing. Chris wanted to slap himself. He'd fucked that up. He could only be nice so many hours in the day. Toby did answer, but Chris had to listen to hear the words.

"I guess after having my ass raped night after night, I lost interest."

Ouch. Chris rubbed a hand over his face. Put it like that and it did sound pretty bad. "Sorry I said anything." And he was. He had to learn to keep his fat mouth shut. Seducing Toby was going to take patience and kindness. Chris would have to push away the urge to grab him and shove it home, like Schillinger had done. Schillinger did know how to pick pretty prags. Of course, they didn't always survive the pragging. Chris had survived. Toby wouldn't. It sucked, but there it was.

Chris got off the bunk quietly and went to stare out into the patches of light. Schillinger was over in Unit B, smug and secure in his plan. He wasn't worried. He knew Chris could finesse anyone out of anything, even love. Chris listened. Toby had fallen asleep, until he had his usual nightmare. Poor fucker. And he was headed for a bigger fucking. Chris pressed against the glass. He didn't have a choice, so he might as well enjoy doing it. Turning, he stared at the sleeping man. He'd do it right. Toby would love him. Love him. He'd make Toby love him. Love was supposed to conquer all--bunch of bullshit--but pretty words. That love would taste sweet. Bittersweet.

Toby sighed deeply. Chris smiled. Tomorrow, he'd play chess and be nice, when he was finished with Toby, Toby would know he'd been mindfucked by the best.

"Good night, Toby," Chris whispered and went back to bed. He'd sleep for awhile. Love didn't happen overnight, and Toby had to learn to trust him. Chris shut his eyes and saw that sweet smile again. Love didn't come easy, and Toby was going to pay for every minute of it. Chris wouldn't care, not a damn bit.


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