Lockdown

“Do you think Miss Sally will really come?” Beecher asked. He turned his head to stare at the man lying next to him. The bed was so small they had to lay half on top of each other. Keller’s arm was under his head, and their legs were tangled together.

The small room was hot, and stank of tobacco and sex, and in the dark all Beecher could make out was Keller’s face in the glow of his cigarette. He was glad Keller had a pack hidden away, but they were low. They’d been in lock-down for… how long had it been? A few days? A week? He didn’t remember. They’d been… busy. Their days were spent sleeping, and their nights… well. They’d been busy.

Keller snorted a laugh and shook his head, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Why the fuck would she?”

Beecher felt himself grin and he rolled onto his side, facing the other man. “Maybe ‘Bricks’ is right,” he said, trying not to laugh at the nickname. “Maybe she’s a slut.”

Keller laughed for real this time, and his fingers slid into Beecher’s hair. Beecher liked the way that felt. He liked the way it felt when Keller’ stroked his hair. He liked the way it felt when Keller pulled his hair. He liked the way it felt when Keller’s cock was up his ass, rough and raw, and his Keller was pulling his hair so hard his scalp tingled and stung.

“Even if she’s a slut, she doesn’t have to come to Oz to get laid,” Keller said.

“Maybe she likes prisoners, though. I saw this special a few years ago, on Oprah-“

“You watch Oprah?!” Keller asked, laughing harder. “Fuck, are you sure you’re not a fag?”

Beecher scowled and pinched Keller right below his ribs, right where he’d discovered he was especially sensitive. “Like I was saying, I saw this thing on Oprah about chicks who like prisoners. It gets them off or something.”

Keller snorted again, swatting Beecher’s hand away. “And you think Miss Sally is one of them?”

Beecher frowned and considered it. “Well, she might be. You can’t judge a book by its cover.”

Laughing harder now, Keller covered his face with his hand to try to cover it up.

“What?!” Beecher sat up and grinned down at his… cellmate? Lover? “You never know.”

Keller dropped his hand, grinning widely. “No. You don’t.” He slid his hand up Beecher’s stomach and chest, and wrapped it around the back of his neck. “So if Miss Sally comes, you gonna fuck her?”

Beecher rolled his eyes. “Of course not.”

“Why the fuck not?” Keller asked, finishing off his cigarette.

“Three reasons.” Beecher held up three fingers and lowered them as he spoke, one at a time. “First off, because if she likes prisoners, I’m probably not really her type. I’m not nearly evil enough. Crazy maybe, but not evil. Secondly, because even if she did want me to fuck her, everyone would be pissed. I don’t need more reasons for people to want me dead. And thirdly…”

Keller arched his eyebrows at Beecher, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “Thirdly?”

Beecher felt himself grin, and he shifted on the bed, straddling Keller and resting his hands on either side of Keller’s head, leaning over him. “I have a feeling you’re the jealous type.”

Keller’s expression hardened and his eyes narrowed. “That might be true.”

“And you are evil. What if I fucked her, and you went into a jealous rage and killed her? Then there wouldn’t be any more Miss Sally, and Nooter and Pecky would be lonely.”

Keller tugged Beecher’s head down and kissed him deeply before speaking. “What makes you think I’m evil?”

Beecher just smirked and kissed him again. Keller never got his answer.