Fic: Oz Meme, written for Summer of Oz
Title: Oz Meme
Author: lisacali
Summary: Just a little light-hearted something to get a few of the guys together, give each other some shit, and work on McManus' last nerve. With a dollop of B/K to top it off.
Rating: pg13? Just for language, sexual situations (barely)
Written for Summer of Oz at oz_wishing_well
“Gentlemen, I’m looking for some volunteers.”
“Sorry, McManus, I don’t swing that way.”
“That’s not what I hear, Hoyt.”
“Shut the fuck up, Hill, what the fuck do you know about things swinging anyhow?”
“All right, knock it off! I need about ten people, just to answer some questions for an online magazine. If you’re interested, follow Officer Murphy to the classroom.”
“What’s in it for us?”
“What do you want?”
“Conjugals.”
“Shit, Keller, you get more ass than anyone in here.”
“You don’t do too bad yourself, Adibisi.”
“Come on, you heard McManus. Shut the hell up and follow me. I’ll get you all some cookies.”
“Hell of a guy, that Murphy.”
“Okay, let’s get started.” McManus looked at the group gathered around the table in front of him - Beecher, Keller, Hoyt, Hill, Robson, Busmalis, Rebadow, Alvarez, Adibisi, Guerra and the O’Reily brothers. He mentally crossed himself and began.
“There’s on online magazine called ‘World Meme,’ and they’ve asked us to participate in one of their memes.”
“What the fuck is a meme?” Keller asked, and several of the others had the same question.
“What’s an online magazine?” This from Busmalis.
“A meme,” Murphy explained, “is a type of quiz passed around on social media. People answer a list of questions about themselves and share it with others.”
“Why?” asked Robson.
“Just to share and compare their answers with others. People enjoy talking about themselves, and learning about others.”
“So, it’s like therapy?” asked an interested Rebadow.
“Not exactly, Bob.” Beecher turned to the old man. “It’s like the other day, when we were talking about our favorite food, stuff like that.”
“Yes,” said McManus, “that question is on here!” He looked around at the assembled men. “You all in?”
“Where are the cookies?” asked Adibisi.
“You get them at the end,” said Murphy, “when you’ve proven you can play nice.”
“Nice, huh?”
“Nice, Adibisi.”
“Okay, first question.” Tim pointed to the C.O. sitting at a desk in the corner. In addition to a tape recorder, he had a pad and pen to take down all the answers.
“This is an ABC meme - I’ll be asking a question corresponding to each letter of the alphabet.”
“So how many questions is that?” asked Adibisi.
“Why the fuck don’t you back to the jungle until you learn to count. 26, man!”
“That’s it, you’re out, Chico.”
“What the fuck?”
“There will be no disparaging remarks during this.” Murphy pointed to the door.
“You never said that!”
“Out!”
Chico stood up, knocking his chair over. “This sounds like pussy shit, anyhow!” He stomped out.
McManus held in a sigh. “Let’s begin. Letter A - what is everyone’s favorite animal?”
Keller turned his head and whispered, “This really is some pussy shit.”
“Shh,” admonished Beecher.
“Dog, man, the answer is dog. Everybody loves dogs.”
“There isn’t one right answer, Alvarez, it’s everyone’s opinion.”
“I like bunnies!” yelled Cyril.
“I bet you do,” leered Robson. “You know what bunnies like to do, don’t you blondie?”
“I’ll fucking skin you like a rabbit while you’re still breathing if you don’t shut the fuck up,” hissed Ryan.
“O’Reily!”
“Did you hear that shit, McManus?” Ryan was on his feet, red in the face.
“I heard, but no threatening.” McManus turned to Murphy. “Get him out of here.” He jerked his thumb toward Robson.
“Me? What the fuck?”
Murphy grabbed Robson’s arm. “Let’s go, no cookies for you.”
“What about him?” Robson gestured toward Ryan with his middle finger. “He fucking threatened me.”
“Sounds to me like he was defending his brother. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Robson jerked his arm from the grasp of the C.O. and stalked off, leaving a wake of hooting and cat calls behind him.
“All right, do you think we can continue in a calm manner, gentlemen?” McManus waited a beat for everyone to settle down. “Okay, we have a bunny. And a dog. Anything else?”
“I appreciate the industrious mole.”
“That’s a big fucking surprise, Busmalis,” smirked Keller.
“Let’s move on to B. Who is your favorite band?”
“Does it have to be a band, or can it be a singer?” asked Rebadow. “I was a huge Sinatra fan when I got sent up.”
“Sinatra counts.”
“I like BioHazard, man, the best fucking noise out there.”
“No shit!”
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
All the men offered their mock surprise at Hoyt’s choice.
“I never talk to you, Mr. Hoyt,” said Busmalis, “but even I knew you like that band.”
“So what? So I talk about ‘em! Fuck you all!”
“Calm down, Hoyt, calm down.” Murphy glared at everyone. “Who else wants to answer?”
Keller flipped his hand up. “I guess Tool.”
“You’re a what, Keller?” O’Reily grinned.
Keller, smiled, nodded, and flipped the other man off.
“I was really into Dr. Dre, man. That record, The Chronic? Off the hook.”
“Thank you, Hill. Anyone else? Let’s continue, this is taking longer than I thought.” McManus tried to ignore Murphy’s raised-eyebrows-are-you-really-surprised look.
“Now, what is everyone’s favorite car?”
Everyone had an enthusiastic response to this question, except for Alvarez, and they quickly moved on to ‘D.’
“What have you or would you name a dog.”
“If it is a female, I would name it Shirley, because she is a bitch,” Adibisi growled.
McManus let that pass, and they continued to ‘E.’
“It says favorite entertainment.”
“I know Keller and Beecher’s answer,” laughed Hoyt.
“They like to fuck!” Adibisi hooted.
“Way to state the obvious,” muttered Alvarez.
“What does that mean?”
“It means ‘no shit!’ dumb fuck!”
“You calling me dumb, white boy?”
Alvarez jumped to his feet. “I’m not fucking white!”
“You as white as Beecher’s ass.”
“That’s it!” Alvarez lunged across the table, his hands reaching for Adibisi’s neck. Adibisi simply stepped back and let Alvarez fall, laughing as he watched the other man crash into a chair.
Murphy and the other C.O. quickly stepped in and escorted Alvarez and Adibisi from the room.
“I’m surprised you didn’t get in there, Keller,” O’Reily said behind his hand. “You know, defend Beecher’s honor.”
Keller shrugged. “I didn’t want to miss out on cookies.”
Beecher shot him a withering look, but pressed his leg against Keller’s under the table.
“Okay, we’re on the goddamned fifth question and already down four men. Should we continue?”
“Hell yeah, let’s keep going.” Hill was smiling. “This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
“Maybe that can be our answer to this question,” said Rebadow.
“What?” said Beecher. “We’re entertained by uncivilized thugs trying to kill each other?”
“Shit,” said Hill, “as long as it ain’t us getting killed!”
“All right, then, what is everyone’s favorite color?”
“I like brown,” answered Busmalis, “the color of the cool, sweet earth.”
“It’s also the color of warm, stinky shit, you weirdo.”
“That’s it, Hoyt, you’re out!”
“You fucking kidding me, McManus? Just ‘cause I said shit is brown?”
“Out!”
“Blue.”
“What?” McManus snapped, turning to Keller.
“Blue. My favorite color is blue.”
“Yeah, and I bet it has nothing to do with the fact that’s the color of Beecher’s eyes.” Hill made sure to whisper this low enough that only O’Reily heard; the Irishman snickered in reply.
“I like blue, too,” grinned Cyril, “it’s pretty.”
“St. Paddy’s green for me,” offered his brother.
The next question, “Gold or silver?” provoked an argument between the older gentlemen of Unit B. It was a silly fight, but McManus was in no mood by this point, and Murphy showed Rebadow and Busmalis to the door. “I’m beginning to feel like Willy Wonka, losing all the naughty children.”
McManus took a deep breath. “Okay, I…instrument. Does anyone play a musical instrument?”
“I play skin flute on occasion.”
O’Reily and Hill choked back their laughter, and even Beecher looked like the corners of his mouth might be twitching.
“Keller!”
“No, please, McManus, I really want a goddamn cookie.” Keller turned on his most charming smile. “I’m sorry.”
McManus didn’t answer him, but continued. “How about you, Beecher? I bet you played an instrument in school.”
“Yeah, I played clarinet in Jr. High, and my brother and I took piano lessons for five years.”
“I didn’t know that.” Keller seemed genuinely interested.
Beecher shrugged. “I haven’t played either for a long time.”
“I grooved on the drums for a while when I was a teen-ager.”
“Where you in a band, Augustus?”
“Just a little garage band. I think we made about ten dollars one summer before we broke up.”
“Ryan or Cyril?”
“Fuck no,” Ryan snarled, “my old man wouldn’t let go of nickel for us to do anything like that. Couldn’t cut into his whiskey money.”
McManus nodded sympathetically. “Okay, next question.”
They made it through J through O until the next kerfuffle.
“Nicknames.”
“They called me ‘Stud,’ boasted Keller.
“Keller, you’re full of it.”
“Yeah, what did they call you, Hill…Wheels?”
“Man, I wasn’t in this chair until I got busted. My Momma called me ‘Gussie.’ “
Beecher sat forward. “I used to call my little brother that - it would piss him off so bad.” Beecher smiled at the memory.
“Me and some of the guys called Cyril ‘Logjam’ for a while. We were at Sunday School one time and he took a shit so big it wouldn’t flush down. Water was all over the fucking floor - what a fucking mess!”
Everyone laughed at the story - even McManus and Murphy had to chuckle - until Cyril stood up and began yelling.
“I did not! That’s not funny! You’re just mean, Ryan, mean!”
“Shit, Cyril, calm down.” Ryan took his brother’s arm, but was roughly brushed off. No amount of coaxing or apologies by Ryan or the other prisoners could calm the
young man down, and Ryan finally had to take him away.
“Take care of him, O’Reily,” called Murphy, “I don’t want to have to take him to the infirmary again.” At that moment, a buzzer sounded. “That’s lunch. Come along gentlemen.”
“Are we going to finish this later?” asked Hill.
McManus shook his head. “I think this is it. I appreciate you three making it this far - go to lunch.”
“What about our cookies, man?”
McManus looked to his C.O. “You got some cookies, Murphy?”
“I do indeed. I’ll make sure you three have them before count tonight.”
After lights out, at the guard’s station in Em City…
“God, they’re at it again.” Officer Towns, a new hire said, standing up.
Murphy, who was pulling a double shift, shook his head to clear it. “Who?”
“Keller and Beecher, fucking like rabbits.”
Murphy was unable to stop a short burst of laughter.
“You think it’s funny?”
“No, no, it’s just something I heard today. Let ‘em go, Towns, they’re not hurting anyone.”
Towns looked doubtful. “They’re breaking the rules.”
Murphy grinned. “But they ain’t breaking each other.”
Toby collapsed on Chris’ back. “God, I’m out of shape,” he gasped.
“You’re shape feels pretty damn good to me, baby,” Chris replied, reaching back to give Toby’s ass a squeeze. “How come you never told me you played the piano?”
“I don’t know, just never came up, I guess.”
“Were you good?”
“Pretty good. Genevieve and I had a piano in the house - I messed around on it every now and then to keep in practice.” Toby slid to the side of Chris. “Stay there.”
Toby shifted around in the space barely big enough for the both of them, propping himself up on one elbow. He got both hands on Chris’ back and began moving them, his fingers running over an imaginary keyboard while he hummed a tune.
Chris folded his arms under his head and closed his eyes. “Mmm, feels good. What are you playing?”
“Piano Sonata No. 16 by Mozart. It’s a fairly easy piece.”
“It doesn’t feel easy, you’re fingers are really moving.”
“Lots of practice.”
All of a sudden, Chris turned, grabbing onto Toby to keep himself from falling off the bunk. “My turn to practice,” he said.
“Practice?”
“The skin flute.” Chris pressed a kiss on Toby’s mouth. “Your skin flute.”
Toby rolled his eyes. “You sound like a fourteen year old boy.”
“Tell my hormones.”
“Did your hormones hear me say I’m out of shape?” Toby pushed playfully at Chris’ roving hand.
“You need a rest, baby? Let’s wash up and take a nap and then I’ll show you my answer to the ‘S’ question.”
“We didn’t get to ‘S,’ Toby said, as Chris pulled him off the bed and to the sink.
“Favorite sexual position.”
“Sounds intriguing, I can’t wait.”
When Toby took his turn at the sink, Chris wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on Toby’s shoulder. “I liked when you did that with your fingers on my back - I like it when you touch me.”
Toby smiled at Chris in the mirror. “I like it when you touch me, too."
Author: lisacali
Summary: Just a little light-hearted something to get a few of the guys together, give each other some shit, and work on McManus' last nerve. With a dollop of B/K to top it off.
Rating: pg13? Just for language, sexual situations (barely)
Written for Summer of Oz at oz_wishing_well
“Gentlemen, I’m looking for some volunteers.”
“Sorry, McManus, I don’t swing that way.”
“That’s not what I hear, Hoyt.”
“Shut the fuck up, Hill, what the fuck do you know about things swinging anyhow?”
“All right, knock it off! I need about ten people, just to answer some questions for an online magazine. If you’re interested, follow Officer Murphy to the classroom.”
“What’s in it for us?”
“What do you want?”
“Conjugals.”
“Shit, Keller, you get more ass than anyone in here.”
“You don’t do too bad yourself, Adibisi.”
“Come on, you heard McManus. Shut the hell up and follow me. I’ll get you all some cookies.”
“Hell of a guy, that Murphy.”
“Okay, let’s get started.” McManus looked at the group gathered around the table in front of him - Beecher, Keller, Hoyt, Hill, Robson, Busmalis, Rebadow, Alvarez, Adibisi, Guerra and the O’Reily brothers. He mentally crossed himself and began.
“There’s on online magazine called ‘World Meme,’ and they’ve asked us to participate in one of their memes.”
“What the fuck is a meme?” Keller asked, and several of the others had the same question.
“What’s an online magazine?” This from Busmalis.
“A meme,” Murphy explained, “is a type of quiz passed around on social media. People answer a list of questions about themselves and share it with others.”
“Why?” asked Robson.
“Just to share and compare their answers with others. People enjoy talking about themselves, and learning about others.”
“So, it’s like therapy?” asked an interested Rebadow.
“Not exactly, Bob.” Beecher turned to the old man. “It’s like the other day, when we were talking about our favorite food, stuff like that.”
“Yes,” said McManus, “that question is on here!” He looked around at the assembled men. “You all in?”
“Where are the cookies?” asked Adibisi.
“You get them at the end,” said Murphy, “when you’ve proven you can play nice.”
“Nice, huh?”
“Nice, Adibisi.”
“Okay, first question.” Tim pointed to the C.O. sitting at a desk in the corner. In addition to a tape recorder, he had a pad and pen to take down all the answers.
“This is an ABC meme - I’ll be asking a question corresponding to each letter of the alphabet.”
“So how many questions is that?” asked Adibisi.
“Why the fuck don’t you back to the jungle until you learn to count. 26, man!”
“That’s it, you’re out, Chico.”
“What the fuck?”
“There will be no disparaging remarks during this.” Murphy pointed to the door.
“You never said that!”
“Out!”
Chico stood up, knocking his chair over. “This sounds like pussy shit, anyhow!” He stomped out.
McManus held in a sigh. “Let’s begin. Letter A - what is everyone’s favorite animal?”
Keller turned his head and whispered, “This really is some pussy shit.”
“Shh,” admonished Beecher.
“Dog, man, the answer is dog. Everybody loves dogs.”
“There isn’t one right answer, Alvarez, it’s everyone’s opinion.”
“I like bunnies!” yelled Cyril.
“I bet you do,” leered Robson. “You know what bunnies like to do, don’t you blondie?”
“I’ll fucking skin you like a rabbit while you’re still breathing if you don’t shut the fuck up,” hissed Ryan.
“O’Reily!”
“Did you hear that shit, McManus?” Ryan was on his feet, red in the face.
“I heard, but no threatening.” McManus turned to Murphy. “Get him out of here.” He jerked his thumb toward Robson.
“Me? What the fuck?”
Murphy grabbed Robson’s arm. “Let’s go, no cookies for you.”
“What about him?” Robson gestured toward Ryan with his middle finger. “He fucking threatened me.”
“Sounds to me like he was defending his brother. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Robson jerked his arm from the grasp of the C.O. and stalked off, leaving a wake of hooting and cat calls behind him.
“All right, do you think we can continue in a calm manner, gentlemen?” McManus waited a beat for everyone to settle down. “Okay, we have a bunny. And a dog. Anything else?”
“I appreciate the industrious mole.”
“That’s a big fucking surprise, Busmalis,” smirked Keller.
“Let’s move on to B. Who is your favorite band?”
“Does it have to be a band, or can it be a singer?” asked Rebadow. “I was a huge Sinatra fan when I got sent up.”
“Sinatra counts.”
“I like BioHazard, man, the best fucking noise out there.”
“No shit!”
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
All the men offered their mock surprise at Hoyt’s choice.
“I never talk to you, Mr. Hoyt,” said Busmalis, “but even I knew you like that band.”
“So what? So I talk about ‘em! Fuck you all!”
“Calm down, Hoyt, calm down.” Murphy glared at everyone. “Who else wants to answer?”
Keller flipped his hand up. “I guess Tool.”
“You’re a what, Keller?” O’Reily grinned.
Keller, smiled, nodded, and flipped the other man off.
“I was really into Dr. Dre, man. That record, The Chronic? Off the hook.”
“Thank you, Hill. Anyone else? Let’s continue, this is taking longer than I thought.” McManus tried to ignore Murphy’s raised-eyebrows-are-you-really-surprised look.
“Now, what is everyone’s favorite car?”
Everyone had an enthusiastic response to this question, except for Alvarez, and they quickly moved on to ‘D.’
“What have you or would you name a dog.”
“If it is a female, I would name it Shirley, because she is a bitch,” Adibisi growled.
McManus let that pass, and they continued to ‘E.’
“It says favorite entertainment.”
“I know Keller and Beecher’s answer,” laughed Hoyt.
“They like to fuck!” Adibisi hooted.
“Way to state the obvious,” muttered Alvarez.
“What does that mean?”
“It means ‘no shit!’ dumb fuck!”
“You calling me dumb, white boy?”
Alvarez jumped to his feet. “I’m not fucking white!”
“You as white as Beecher’s ass.”
“That’s it!” Alvarez lunged across the table, his hands reaching for Adibisi’s neck. Adibisi simply stepped back and let Alvarez fall, laughing as he watched the other man crash into a chair.
Murphy and the other C.O. quickly stepped in and escorted Alvarez and Adibisi from the room.
“I’m surprised you didn’t get in there, Keller,” O’Reily said behind his hand. “You know, defend Beecher’s honor.”
Keller shrugged. “I didn’t want to miss out on cookies.”
Beecher shot him a withering look, but pressed his leg against Keller’s under the table.
“Okay, we’re on the goddamned fifth question and already down four men. Should we continue?”
“Hell yeah, let’s keep going.” Hill was smiling. “This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
“Maybe that can be our answer to this question,” said Rebadow.
“What?” said Beecher. “We’re entertained by uncivilized thugs trying to kill each other?”
“Shit,” said Hill, “as long as it ain’t us getting killed!”
“All right, then, what is everyone’s favorite color?”
“I like brown,” answered Busmalis, “the color of the cool, sweet earth.”
“It’s also the color of warm, stinky shit, you weirdo.”
“That’s it, Hoyt, you’re out!”
“You fucking kidding me, McManus? Just ‘cause I said shit is brown?”
“Out!”
“Blue.”
“What?” McManus snapped, turning to Keller.
“Blue. My favorite color is blue.”
“Yeah, and I bet it has nothing to do with the fact that’s the color of Beecher’s eyes.” Hill made sure to whisper this low enough that only O’Reily heard; the Irishman snickered in reply.
“I like blue, too,” grinned Cyril, “it’s pretty.”
“St. Paddy’s green for me,” offered his brother.
The next question, “Gold or silver?” provoked an argument between the older gentlemen of Unit B. It was a silly fight, but McManus was in no mood by this point, and Murphy showed Rebadow and Busmalis to the door. “I’m beginning to feel like Willy Wonka, losing all the naughty children.”
McManus took a deep breath. “Okay, I…instrument. Does anyone play a musical instrument?”
“I play skin flute on occasion.”
O’Reily and Hill choked back their laughter, and even Beecher looked like the corners of his mouth might be twitching.
“Keller!”
“No, please, McManus, I really want a goddamn cookie.” Keller turned on his most charming smile. “I’m sorry.”
McManus didn’t answer him, but continued. “How about you, Beecher? I bet you played an instrument in school.”
“Yeah, I played clarinet in Jr. High, and my brother and I took piano lessons for five years.”
“I didn’t know that.” Keller seemed genuinely interested.
Beecher shrugged. “I haven’t played either for a long time.”
“I grooved on the drums for a while when I was a teen-ager.”
“Where you in a band, Augustus?”
“Just a little garage band. I think we made about ten dollars one summer before we broke up.”
“Ryan or Cyril?”
“Fuck no,” Ryan snarled, “my old man wouldn’t let go of nickel for us to do anything like that. Couldn’t cut into his whiskey money.”
McManus nodded sympathetically. “Okay, next question.”
They made it through J through O until the next kerfuffle.
“Nicknames.”
“They called me ‘Stud,’ boasted Keller.
“Keller, you’re full of it.”
“Yeah, what did they call you, Hill…Wheels?”
“Man, I wasn’t in this chair until I got busted. My Momma called me ‘Gussie.’ “
Beecher sat forward. “I used to call my little brother that - it would piss him off so bad.” Beecher smiled at the memory.
“Me and some of the guys called Cyril ‘Logjam’ for a while. We were at Sunday School one time and he took a shit so big it wouldn’t flush down. Water was all over the fucking floor - what a fucking mess!”
Everyone laughed at the story - even McManus and Murphy had to chuckle - until Cyril stood up and began yelling.
“I did not! That’s not funny! You’re just mean, Ryan, mean!”
“Shit, Cyril, calm down.” Ryan took his brother’s arm, but was roughly brushed off. No amount of coaxing or apologies by Ryan or the other prisoners could calm the
young man down, and Ryan finally had to take him away.
“Take care of him, O’Reily,” called Murphy, “I don’t want to have to take him to the infirmary again.” At that moment, a buzzer sounded. “That’s lunch. Come along gentlemen.”
“Are we going to finish this later?” asked Hill.
McManus shook his head. “I think this is it. I appreciate you three making it this far - go to lunch.”
“What about our cookies, man?”
McManus looked to his C.O. “You got some cookies, Murphy?”
“I do indeed. I’ll make sure you three have them before count tonight.”
After lights out, at the guard’s station in Em City…
“God, they’re at it again.” Officer Towns, a new hire said, standing up.
Murphy, who was pulling a double shift, shook his head to clear it. “Who?”
“Keller and Beecher, fucking like rabbits.”
Murphy was unable to stop a short burst of laughter.
“You think it’s funny?”
“No, no, it’s just something I heard today. Let ‘em go, Towns, they’re not hurting anyone.”
Towns looked doubtful. “They’re breaking the rules.”
Murphy grinned. “But they ain’t breaking each other.”
Toby collapsed on Chris’ back. “God, I’m out of shape,” he gasped.
“You’re shape feels pretty damn good to me, baby,” Chris replied, reaching back to give Toby’s ass a squeeze. “How come you never told me you played the piano?”
“I don’t know, just never came up, I guess.”
“Were you good?”
“Pretty good. Genevieve and I had a piano in the house - I messed around on it every now and then to keep in practice.” Toby slid to the side of Chris. “Stay there.”
Toby shifted around in the space barely big enough for the both of them, propping himself up on one elbow. He got both hands on Chris’ back and began moving them, his fingers running over an imaginary keyboard while he hummed a tune.
Chris folded his arms under his head and closed his eyes. “Mmm, feels good. What are you playing?”
“Piano Sonata No. 16 by Mozart. It’s a fairly easy piece.”
“It doesn’t feel easy, you’re fingers are really moving.”
“Lots of practice.”
All of a sudden, Chris turned, grabbing onto Toby to keep himself from falling off the bunk. “My turn to practice,” he said.
“Practice?”
“The skin flute.” Chris pressed a kiss on Toby’s mouth. “Your skin flute.”
Toby rolled his eyes. “You sound like a fourteen year old boy.”
“Tell my hormones.”
“Did your hormones hear me say I’m out of shape?” Toby pushed playfully at Chris’ roving hand.
“You need a rest, baby? Let’s wash up and take a nap and then I’ll show you my answer to the ‘S’ question.”
“We didn’t get to ‘S,’ Toby said, as Chris pulled him off the bed and to the sink.
“Favorite sexual position.”
“Sounds intriguing, I can’t wait.”
When Toby took his turn at the sink, Chris wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on Toby’s shoulder. “I liked when you did that with your fingers on my back - I like it when you touch me.”
Toby smiled at Chris in the mirror. “I like it when you touch me, too."