Alvarez braved the stares in the canteen but, still self-conscious, he ate with head down everything that had been placed on his tray. He didn't join in the conversation but listened to the banter, so different to the silence of his self-imposed isolation and what he'd been used to before. No plotting, no scheming, just conversation. It was nice. He'd never known that people here could make each other laugh just for the sake of it and without detriment to anyone else. He saw the men that surrounded Beecher in a new light and it was a warm one.

Through the short time before 'Lockdown' he stayed close to him. He still felt as if he were drawing warmth from him, strength, as they watched some inane TV program. They did not speak, there was no need, and he had nothing to say that was for other ears. Also he kept quiet for he knew Beecher was much more 'well read' than him and he didn't want to appear ignorant on top of the emotional mess he'd already shown.

He vowed he would try to reclaim some of his former self. The self when he was in control. When he'd had respect. He knew Beecher wanted it and so did he. But as Beecher shifted on the hard seat, their thighs touching briefly, he knew that when alone with this man he would always melt, become soft and go wherever he took him.

He made another vow as he sat there. One day, he would wipe that knowing smug grin off O'Riely's face, sat there smirking at him but for now he needed him, smirk and all. He'd noticed the interest his new proximity to Beecher had caused in the canteen amongst Shillinger and the rest. He was going to have to make a move and soon.

Finally it was time for 'Count' and 'Lockdown'. He managed to appear as reluctant as the rest heading into Beecher's Pod. He couldn't think of it as his own and wondered if he ever would. Besides, how long would his luck last that he should remain in here? He dreaded the thought that McManus would decide his latest scheme a mistake and return to the old.

A hand took his thumb from his mouth and smoothed across his forehead. He let out a sigh and sat on his bunk looking up at Toby. Toby. He wasn't sure when he'd began to think of him as Toby rather than Beecher but was glad he had. "Want to tell me?" he was asked. He shook his head but quickly touched his leg hoping it conveyed 'its not you'.

Nodding, Beecher grabbed up his book and hopped up onto his bunk. Miguel moved, stretching out, head on folded arms as he stared out of the Pod. He was sure they were both just waiting for 'Lights Out'. He knew that he was.

=0=

He awoke suddenly. The lights were still on so he was quietly amazed. He couldn't remember a time when he'd just fallen asleep unconcerned by his surrounding like this. But what had awakened him? Glancing into the Pod, he saw Beecher at the toilet and looked away. That brought on a new worry. He came to realise he needed to piss himself but did not like the idea of doing it in front of the man, let alone when he needed to sit on it. It was stupid, it had never bothered him before but now it gnawed at him. How long till Lights Out? He had no idea how long he had slept.

Done, Beecher resumed his seat and after a minute or so he heard the turning of a page. Damn he needed to piss. Getting up, he moved to the toilet and anxiously glanced at Toby. His face was buried in the book, either it was enthralling or he was giving him as much privacy as he could. Once more Miguel felt gratitude. He had so much to feel grateful for and doubted he would ever be able to pay him back. He was nevertheless willing to try.

Finished, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He really should shave. His skin had calmed down somewhat but if he were clean-shaven, what would he look like in the morning? He knew they were going to have sex, well, they would if he did have any say in the matter. Running a hand over his chin it didn't feel that sore and he began to search for his razor and stuff. A page turned, "I'd wait till morning if I were you," softly from the bunk behind him. He turned to see Toby watching over the top of the book. He couldn't help it, he smiled bashfully, so did Toby, anything but shyly then he carried on reading.

Alvarez thought maybe he should try reading something, after all he had fuck all else to do with his days while Beecher was at his computer. Except plotting that is. Then possibly he could have a bit more in common with the man. He would give it a shot but knew he wasn't very good at it. It wasn't the reading, he could do that no problem, he just couldn't concentrate. He would try.

Now he stood at a loss what to do so he turned back, putting down the razor and, picking up his brush, cleaned his teeth, washed hands and face, basically getting ready for bed but in reality for Toby. How long till 'Lights Out'? He kicked off his shoes, thought to undress then thought of something said the night before and lay down fully clothed and waited once more.

=0=

Waking as the bunk shook, he couldn't believe he had fallen asleep again. It was dark now and all was quiet. He rose up onto his elbows, hand rubbing at his eyes then took in a surprised breath. Beecher was crouched next to him. "Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"Fuck no!" then felt embarrassed.

Beecher grinned, that was the most definite thing he'd heard him say. Trying to get up, Miguel found a hand in the centre of his back pushing him down. "Stay there," and Beecher stood, turning to look for something.

He dared not move. It was going to happen. Beecher was going to take him. Right now! He was apprehensive but excited all at the same time. Already he could feel his cock stirring just from the thought of it. Then Toby was there, his hand once more on his back rubbing up and down his skin, higher then lower under his clothes, under the waistband of his jeans. Once more he allowed access as his pants were undone and pulled down slightly. He sank into the bunk as a hand ran over his buttocks under the fabric as if a continuation of what had been interrupted that morning.

His hand enjoying the contours of Miguel's ass, Beecher ran his other up his back, moving the top out of the way as he bent to kiss along his spine. He determined he would try to make this, he knew Miguel's first time with a man, with him, as pleasurable as he could. He would not rush, would not just fuck him, which is what he so wanted to do, but take his time and savour each moment. He didn't want to hurry Miguel, didn't want him to decide he'd made a mistake, that he didn't want this after all. He could not bare the thought now. He'd waited too long to feel this turned on and by someone he could care about and he knew now that he did, indeed, care about Miguel.

Miguel himself was finding it increasingly difficult to keep still as the kisses proceeded up his spine. He'd been told to stay put but the hand on his backside, circling, every so often delving into the divide of his buttocks, was causing his hips to shift as he practically wriggled then he began to push his butt up onto that hand. Fingers passed lightly over his arsehole and he forced his face deeper into the pillow groaning. Then the contact was gone as his top was being lifted up over his shoulders so he rose up enabling Toby to push it off, over his head. His already hardening prick pushed into the rough blanket.

Then he sank back, his arms over his head as the shirt was pulled off and clear. He rubbed his face on the pillow, his hands clutching at the bunk uprights as Toby's mouth resumed its exploration of his back, his shoulders. The whiskers, lightly scratching at his attentive skin, was a wholly new experience. He couldn't take much more of this as his whole body began to squirm. It was wonderful but he craved harder handling.

Kisses to the back of his neck, hands circling around his sides, under him to catch at his nipples, he pulled down his arms to rise up on elbows attempting to push himself onto all fours. Swiftly a hand moved to between his shoulder blades insisting he remain. Turning his head to look pleadingly at Toby, the hand slid up to hold the base of his skull as Beecher leaned into give him a gentle kiss to his lips. Pushing forwards, wanting that mouth, he twisted to gain access but found himself pushed onto his side to be kissed deep but also that Toby kept his head almost still conscious of harming his skin.

Drawing back, Beecher sat on his heels looking at Miguel's eyes glinting in the low lighting. He had to be certain, had to give him one last chance to stop this before he himself could not. "Are you sure you want this?" his voice unsteady as his body was screaming, 'just do it'.

Miguel grabbed at him, pulling him forwards for an urgent kiss, demanding, trying to pull him on top of himself. He resisted, wouldn't be manoeuvred, pushing the man back as he tried to come to him. Miguel didn't appear to want to comply with his plan for this to be gentle but Beecher wanted him there, not on the floor or against the wall as if they were just fucking. Rutting. Not this time.

Yes, he'd thought to let the other lead the way but something about Miguel's actions spoke of desperation as if just trying to prove that he would indeed let him do anything. Toby wanted to, not actually make love to him, he didn't feel that strongly about the man, but he didn't want to just fuck him either, so pushing Miguel back further against the Plexi, he climbed onto the narrow bunk, lying out full length against him, pushing a leg in between the other's, facing him.

Alvarez immediately allowed access and brought his leg up high onto Toby's hip, moving in towards him, clutching him close and once again tried to pull him on top of himself. Beecher pushed at the jeans already loose around his thighs and grabbed one of those so tight butt cheeks. Miguel's face was buried in his neck, kissing and nipping, trying to encourage him on, on top of him. He seemed so desperate.

Beecher had to slow this down before he got caught up in the urgency as he could easily hurt the man in his ardour. He escaped from the embrace, heard a wretched small, "no," so he kissed his way down his chest, stomach, as he pushed the leg off him and backed off the bunk to kneel on the floor once more. Sitting back, he ran his eyes all along the panting body.

Miguel seemed close to tears, following him. Smiling, he pushed him flat on his back and, ignoring the hands reaching for him, grasped hold of the jeans and pulled them off the compliant legs, dropping them to the floor. Running a hand up the closest leg, he enjoyed the shape of taut muscle, the actions of the man lying stretched out on his back gasping, his whole body moving with the effort of taking in air.

Alvarez had been so scared for the moment that Beecher was leaving him because he'd done something wrong in his urgency but as his pants were removed, he knew he was not to be denied this time. And now he was above him, kneeling either side, leaning down to kiss him. He wrapped his hands over the man's shoulders pulling him down but Tobias moved backwards, tasting him, his jaw, his neck, across his shoulders and down to the centre of his chest.

His left nipple was caught between lips, pulled and, as he felt the moist tongue licking, circling, he threw his hands over his head and reared up from the mattress, pushing his chest into that mouth ravishing his tight hard nipple. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten what this could feel like and the whiskers added a thrill he'd never known as they caught his tenderised flesh. Fingers to his lips, closing his mouth as he'd begun to moan so loud but he couldn't keep it closed, not now that the hungry mouth moved itself across to give attention to his previously neglected nipple. He forced his lips apart, the fingers immediately entering his mouth and he loved them, bringing his own hand down to hold them, preventing possible escape.

Beecher's other hand had worked its way down his side to lie on his hip, thumb caressing where leg met body. Against resistance, Beecher managed to pull his hand away from that hot mouth and moving backwards, used both hands to push Miguel's hips down hard to the bunk. Kneeling back, trapping the man's legs under him, he determined that this time he was going to take Miguel into his mouth if he wanted him to or not. As he ducked to rub his beard along the highly attentive prick, sliding down preparing to take him in, Miguel struggled to sit up, pushing his head away.

Half expecting this, he reared up, his hands, his weight still pushing down Miguel's' hips and putting his mouth close to the panicking man's ear, asked him, "Why do you not want this?"

"It's not right," small desperate voice as Alvarez fought his mind against his body, "My place, not yours."

"Why?" He wasn't in any frame of mind to cope with the misguided ideas.

Alvarez sobbed dryly. Shit, he was so turned on, couldn't wait to have Beecher truly on him, in him, but he was waiting for an answer. Positions reversed, he knew he wouldn't have half of the man's control. "I d..on't deserve it," he didn't know how to explain, make him understand, didn't understand himself really. He was so mixed up. He longed for the feel of the man's mouth around his cock but he was the submissive one and in his mind there was a very distinctive role. He'd been taught it, had learnt the lesson hard, and this was its reverse.

Enough of this crap! Beecher kissed him hard, forcing his tongue in to fuck at his mouth and felt the responding pressure against him, strength for strength. Letting go of the man's hips, he forced the slighter but still powerful frame back down, breaking the kiss and told him in no uncertain terms, "But its what I want!" then reworked his way down the centre of the tensing body, hands following down the sides.

So Alvarez gave up all resistance. He became that total submissive lying there, after all its what Beecher desired that counted not him. As he felt the hand pressing down on his belly, the soft moist warmth surround the swollen head of his prick and a lick across his weeping slit, he arched up as much as his confined legs would let him and experienced the others man's will.

==000==

TBC...