Thanks to Lisa who gave me some relevant advice. As usual, the errors are mine.
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I'm sitting on an old wooden bench in a park with my kids – the three of them. We're eating ice-creams, big, sweet, chocolate, delicious ice-creams. I tilt my head backwards: the sun's pouring down on me, warm and caressing, through the branches of the high trees there, and that feels good. The grass under our feet is spotted with gold; I listen to my children, they're talking and laughing the way kids do when they're happy and safe and I watch them play together. The soft and cool taste of the ice-cream in my throat, and fuck it it's not the happiest day in my life. I stretch my legs and laugh; I'm about to get up and take a little walk with my children…
But then I hear the voice in my ear, pulling me roughly out of my dream. Ragged and urging me. "Wake up, Beecher. Wake up."
My dream suddenly vanishes, and no matter how hard I try to hold it back, it's gone. I open my eyes and Chris' lips are on my throat, his hands everywhere. No, not that, not now and I brush him off, hard. Fuck! Fuck you! Who do you think you are, shattering a good moment like this?
"Beecher. I want to fuck you." He shakes me softly, but his voice is rough and urging. "Hey, wake up."
Ok. So the night's over, the dream's over, and it's… What? 3 or 4 am? I open my eyes, watch outside the pod. It's dark and Johnson looks like he's asleep on is desk.
"What do you want?" I ask sleepily, not really sure I heard what I heard.
"I want to fuck you. C'mon, Beecher." He whispers in my ear.
"No way." I push him away, try to get out of his bunk, but he's holding me tight, pinning me down on the mattress.
"Why?" He asks. Jesus fucking Christ, Chris can be such a stubborn motherfucker, sometimes… "I'll do all the work. You'll just have to enjoy!"
I sit. "I said no, Keller. Don't you know what it means?" I can hear the anger in my voice. He frowns. "Just tell me why!"
"You fucked me twice tonight, and to tell you the truth, it fucking hurts." He smiles. I hate this particular one. The smug smile. "Yeah, but Beecher, *you* wanted it hard, remember? And I hurt as well. You were tough, too."
I sigh; rub my hands over my face, trying to clear my mind, searching for a way to make him understand. "Keller, I want to sleep. When you woke me up, I was…" I can't go on. I lower my look, watching the tangled sheets. "Dreaming?"
I nod. "Yes."
"A nice dream?" His voice is soft, now and I feel his fingers on my cheekbones, stroking me.
"Yes." I don't want to talk about it. But I can't help. "With the kids. Gary was there."
Fingers in my hair, brushing them back, circling my nape. "Kiss me."
I push him away again. "You're one single-minded bastard, do you know that? Why did you wake me up?"
I raise my eyes, and our gazes meet. Then I know. His look's dark and haunted. I've seen this look before, and I won't forget it. Something bad is keeping him awake and he wants sex to cure the pain. He can't even imagine another way to make him feel better. He doesn't know how to deal with pain, like I do. That's why he tries so hard to feel nothing. And when he does feel something, that's how he gets.
I suppose I should try something. "A blowjob?" I offer, leaning against him. He shakes his head. "No." He rises, gives me a cold smile. "It's ok; I'll go back to bed. I'm sorry I woke you up." Shit. Now he's pissed off, and it's bad. Don't piss off a horny Keller on a lonely night, because he'll get back at you later. I watch him as he's about to climb in the top bunk. I clasp my fingers around his ankle, pulling him down.
"Hey. What's wrong, Chris?"
"Nothing. I wanted to fuck, you don't want to. I'm going to bed. Let go of me."
No fucking way. I grab his wrists, forcing him to sit down. I'm fully awake, now. "You just said "no" to a blowjob, Chris."
He shrugs. "Your mouth is not what I want tonight." He whispers so low I can barely hear. "And you're not the only one here who can dream."
So it's not only about sex, after all. Chris's not the prissy kind; he wouldn't make a fuss about that, and he would certainly not turn down a blowjob. But what was his dream about? Painful memories? Hidden fears? He never tells me about that. Actually, he never tells me a lot about anything. Now, I feel sorry. He's right; I'm not the only one who dreams. I'm not the only one who lost something, here.
He doesn't move, watching his bare feet. I put an arm around his shoulders.
"OK. Let's trade. If I let you fuck me, what's the deal?"
He turns his eyes to me. "What?" His voice sounds hard and incredulous. His gaze roams on my face. "What are you talking about?"
I snort; rub my nose against his arm. "Listen, if I let you fuck me, it's going to hurt like hell tomorrow. What do I get in trade?" I don't know if he'll understand. First I think he won't, he just glares at me, angry. Fuck. But suddenly, there's a shy smile…
"Bliss?" He whispers.
I laugh. "Bliss won't make the pain go away tomorrow."
He sighs heavily, rolls his eyes.
"OK. What do you want?"
What can I ask for? So far, I don't have the slightest clue. Then I remember the dream. "Ice cream. A big one." He sighs, leans back. "Beecher, you're nuts. Where do you think I'm gonna get an ice-cream here?"
"Ask O'Reily."
I suggest. I watch Chris smile thoughtfully.
"O'Reily? Yeah, I could try that. OK... But there's one thing I'll ask you."
"Apart from fucking me?"
"Yeah. I want to be here when you work that tongue of yours on the ice cream, Beecher." His voice is raspy against my ear, his breath burning me, and suddenly the game's over, I'm hot, and hard, and I let him push me on my back and kiss me. I give him a solemn look. "Deal!" I just say.
"I love doing business with you, Beecher." Chris growls in my ear as he pulls me out of my boxers, stroking my cock, softly, teasingly, getting me to catch my breath. "I really do. Although I still think this ass of yours is worth much more than any ice-cream."
I close my eyes, trying to keep on breathing as he moves his mouth down my belly. "Oh god… Chris… It's not… It's not about the ice cream… It's about my dream."
He just nods to show he understands, then grabs my ass, lifts it and takes my cock in his mouth, deep in his throat, and sucks, working my dick with his tongue just the way he wants me to do with this fucking ice cream, I guess, and my whole body's on fire, now, I can't help moaning. I arch my back and he takes advantage of my move, snakes a spit-slick finger inside me, fucking me leisurely.
"Does it hurt, Toby?" he asks, letting go of my cock for a second. Oh yes, it does. And it's so good; I can't even remember why I didn't want it, first.
"Go on. Go on."
He locks his mouth on me again and I close my eyes, feel a second finger added, moving deeper and deeper, until I can't stand it anymore. He abandons my cock, withdraws his fingers and I groan helplessly because I’m so fucking close, but then I feel the damp tip of Chris' cock against the crack of my ass. "Yell if it hurts." his rough voice whispers in my ears as he enters me slowly, his hands holding my hips. Fuck, it burns like hell, and I bite my lips, drawing blood. He sees the pain on my face and stops.
"Ok, let's end that." I feel him begin to pull out.
"No! No! Please, go on. Please!" I beg him, holding him back, because it's so damn good, and he looks so hot, and so worried, half buried inside me, not knowing what to do, unable to move because he doesn't want to hurt me, that *I* move back, impaling myself on him with a low growl, swallowing my pain, and I stay still, listening to the deep ragged sigh he finally lets out.
"Oh god. I love you Toby. I need you. I love you so fucking much." He bends over me and kisses my open mouth, and my chin, and my throat, holding me tight. "I dreamed that you didn't love me anymore." His voice is shaky with sobs; I see a single tear run down his cheeks and fall on my chest. There was probably much more than that in his dream. Much worse. I clench my fingers in his short hair, and whisper "I love you, Chris, I do. I won't leave you. Never. You know that, don't you?"
He nods and closes his eyes, kissing me softly again. But soft kisses are not what I need now, and I urge him to finish, moving against him, teasing him, biting his neck, grazing my fingers along his nipples, causing him to growl like a wild beast. "Please, Chris!" I hear my voice, shaking and weak, and Chris shivers; he begins to move inside me again with long, powerful thrusts, his eyes locked on my face, watchful of the pain. He closes his fingers around my cock and strokes slowly, until the pain doesn't mean anything anymore, until he can't hold back, and strokes faster, thrusts harder, and then I feel my body stiffen, his cock brushing against my prostate. I come all over his hands, biting his shoulder to stifle my cry, clenching my muscles around his cock… I hear him moan low, and his whole body shudders violently before he comes inside me, hard, and sags on me, breathless.
The following day, I could barely sit. But I got the ice-cream in the evening and Chris gave me the vulnerable smile I love so much, and that I so seldom see. I didn't ask how he'd managed. The ice-cream had partly melted on his hands when he entered the pod, and his fingers were slick and sticky, so I licked them clean, thoroughly, feeling the strong fingers tremble in my mouth, curling my tongue around them, until he moaned in need. In the end, Chris finished the ice cream; I tasted it on his lips, in his mouth and that was good.
the end.