Oz fic: The education of Tobias Beecher (part 2)
a sequel to this
It was Saturday night. Keller had been on the hunt for a couple of days now. What he’d been looking for he eventually found in this city center bar he’d never come to. He didn’t like hunting so deep in the city - the fringes were his usual territory. This time though, the find made the risk all worthwile.
What Keller could see of the guy from the door made him ravenous… Blond hair, pale flexible neck, lean frame packed in a tailored suit. And the number of drinks he’d downed. The whole picture said a lot. He would be an easy mark. That kind of men always was. Drowning whatever imaginary sorrow they had, ready for him. He would take him on his bike. It was summer; a warm starry night. What about a ride in the woods? And there he would take his time fucking him the way he loved it - the way the guy would love it. After that… He met his own feral grin in the mirror.
Here we go, baby.
The bar was crowded. While Keller elbowed his way to his prey, the man got up, a little unsteady, preparing to leave. Not so soon, baby, Keller thought, shoving people out of this way to reach the guy before he left, resting a hand on his shoulder at last. “Hey…”
The man turned and stared at Chris for a couple of seconds before frowning, incredulous.
“Chris?” he said. “Chris Keller?”
Keller’s hand fell. “Sweet fucking Jesus. Beecher.”
There was no mistaking Beecher’s delighted smile, his shining eyes. Keller found himself smiling back, his hand ruffling Beecher’s short hair. “Hey. That a surprise. How fucking long has it been?”
Toby laughed. “I don’t know. Too long!” He sounded goofy.
“You’re drunk, Beecher,” Keller said, amused.
“Are you sure of that?”
The look on Beecher’s face was almost… flirtatious - or was it just Keller’s imagination?
“Yeah. Yeah.” He shook himself out of the sudden uncomfortable feeling. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Beecher stumbled out, almost falling down the stairs. Keller had to help him keep his balance. It felt good to have Toby so close. He smelt good, a clean fresh scent in spite of the booze. Beecher leant against him for a moment, breathing hard. Keller gave him a sidelong glance. His plans for the evening were ruined. But fuck it was good to see Beecher again.
“Fancy a ride?”
Beecher seemed to ponder. “Where? There’s nothing left of our old place, you know. Built a shopping mall there instead. Bastards.”
“Anywhere can do… You’ll love the ride.”
They stopped in front of Keller’s bike. “Wow! That baby’s yours?” Beecher asked, incredulous. He ran the palm of his hand over the saddle. “I never got on a bike before.” He laughed again, a genuine, happy laugh and Keller knew, really knew, just by the sound of it, that Beecher didn’t laugh very often. It troubled him.
He got on the bike and gestured Beecher to sit behind him. “Fucking put this on,” he commanded, handing him the second helmet he always carried. It took some fumbling and muted swearing - Beecher swearing was sweet, really.
“You ready, Beecher?” he asked, starting the bike. He felt Beecher’s nod against his back, and all the way he could feel Toby’s arms around his waist and the rumble of his drunken laugh against his back. The bike was powerful and fast… It was obvious that Beecher was enjoying the ride.
“Jesus, Chris! It’s wonderful”, Beecher said when they stopped, taking off the helmet. “It feels like… freedom.”
Keller smiled. “That’s the point, Toby.” He parked the bike. It was a nice night. They walked for half a mile maybe before finding a nice place. Keller sat on a trunk in the middle of a clearing.
“So Beecher,” Keller asked. “Why all the drinking?”
“I was bored. I didn’t want to go home.” Beecher sat beside Chris on the old trunk and combed his hair back.
“No one waiting for you there?”
Beecher seemed to mull the question over. He sighed. “Yes. I got a wife. Two kids.”
The sheepish admission made him look young and lost. Chris stared at the boyish profile for a moment. Upturned nose, sweet mouth, slightly sweaty blond locks. Beecher had stopped talking.
“Is she any good, that wife of yours? Does she give good head?” Chris asked.
Beecher stood up, took a few steps away and turned to face Keller. “Gen… She’s not that kind. Jesus, Keller, you’re asking the most embarrassing things.”
It was Chris’ turn to rise from his uncomfortable seat and join Beecher who had picked up a few stones and was throwing them into the small pond one by one.
“Tell me, Beecher… Did any of your girlfriends give you what you need in bed? Hot dirty sweaty sex? Messy sex?”
The last stone hit the water and Beecher shrugged. “Gen and I… I love her. I love the kids. I needed that.”
“Yeah,” Chris said, very softly. “I guess it’s important to you.”
“It is. More than you can figure out,” Beecher said, defensive.
They stared at each other for too long. Eventually Keller crossed the distance between them and rested a hand on the nape of Beecher’s nec, where the skin was warm under the soft hair. Warm and soft and slightly damp with sweat. “Everyone deserves to be kissed properly,” he said, pulling Beecher to him, and meeting very little resistance. Beecher’s lips were soft and warm; they parted obediently, letting Chris’ tongue enter the heat of Beecher’s mouth. It tasted of booze there. It took some time to Beecher to kiss back. When he did, Keller found that more exciting than anything else. They parted breathlessly.
Beecher tried to step back but Keller was reluctant to let him go. “More,” he said. “Let me kiss you again.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Chris,” Beecher said.
“Come on, Toby. Come on!” Keller would have begged. No one had called him Chris for so long. He had not kissed a man for months and he missed it badly. “One last time and I’ll drive you back to your car.”
It was lame but the offer seemed to win Beecher over and they kissed again, dazed with lust, pressing against each other… Beecher pushed Keller back. “I still have a wife, Chris. This is cheating.”
“She won’t know,” Chris said, holding him back. One more minute. Suddenly, fuck knew why, kissing Beecher was the most important thing in Keller’s sorry life.
“But I will,” Beecher said softly closing his eyes when Keller stroked his back. Ha. You want it, Keller thought. “Besides,” Beecher added with a self-deprecating smile, “I’m a terrible liar.”
“You lied to your parents for years about seeing me.”
“Yes. You’re right. But this… this is something else.”
Keller stepped back, trembling with frustrated lust. Any other guy he would have smashed down, bashed his head against the ground and roughened up - but this was Beecher. He still remembered his awed gaze, his obvious adoration for an older, more experienced, wilder boy. Hurting Beecher would’ve meant killing memories Keller still treasured. There were not so many of them.
“Sure,” he said, keeping his voice level. “Sure. I was married too. Three women. I know what you’re talking about.”
“You?” Beecher laughed. “Who were the lucky girls?”
The laugh was infectious. A laughing Beecher was a sight to behold. “I even married Bonnie twice. Bonnie’s some woman, you know.”
Beecher looked serious again, staring at Keller. “I bet she is,” he said. “What happened?”
Keller shook his head. “The sex was amazing. But sex… When it was over...” Never before had he realized how fucking true that was. “We had nothing in common.”
“Was it for good? No other woman?”
“I was in love, Beecher, right? I never cheated on them.” He smiled - Geez, when had he started sounding so solemn? Still, when Beecher nodded, looking all serious suddenly, he felt glad. “Listen, let’s go back. I’ll take you back to your place. I don’t think you can drive.”
“Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”
Used to it? How much did Beecher drink, exactly? How often? The thought worried Keller. It probably showed because Beecher blushed slightly. “Don’t worry, Chris. I’ll be fine.”
Why the fuck should he worry? It was not like they were close or anything, after all. He was not Beecher’s keeper. Fuck; his life was complicated enough as it was. He nodded. “OK. You know better. Let’s go then.”
It started raining and Keller slowed down. But when the dark SUV seemed to materialize out of the blue at the next crossroad there was nothing he could do. He swerved, braking desperately, feeling the bike slide down the wet road and the shock of the hard fall on the asphalt, the bike crushing his leg. He heard himself yell and someone else, and tried to look back to see how Beecher was doing but could not. After that, it took all he had not to sink into the tempting void of unconsciousness.
**********************
Toby woke up to a world of confusion and pain. He was lying on a hospital bed, an IV in his arm. Gen and his father were standing by his side. His father looked worried and grave. Gen burst in tears when he tried to reach out for her.
“God, Tobias,” his father said. “What were you thinking? We have been worried to death. You could have died.”
At that, his mind decided that unconsciousness was after all the best choice. I am such a coward, he thought before sinking.
The second time Gen and his father were gone. A stranger was sitting on the chair and Jesus did he look like trouble. His pale eyes were fixed on Toby’s face with an expression of something akin to hunger, his mouth a thin line. “Who are you?” Toby asked, hating the trembling in his voice.
He was flashed a badge. “Agent Taylor. FBI.”
Trouble indeed. The Harvard part of Beecher’s brain suddenly came to life and silenced the pain for a moment.
“I wasn’t aware that the FBI was interested in bike accidents,” he said, sitting up, fighting the throbbing pain in his head and arm.
The man - Taylor - smiled at that. “We are not. It’s Christopher Keller we’re interested in.”
Toby frowned. “Where is he? How is he? He must be wounded, I have to…”
“Keller’s gone.”
It took Toby a whole minute to process the fact. “Gone?” He realized he sounded like a sneezy duck. He cleared his throat before going on. “How? He fell… I saw him… I fell down on him…”
Taylor sighed. “You know, it’s a miracle to have you here alive, Mr Beecher. And I’m not talking about the accident. Keller generally makes sure his victims do not survive.”
Toby had to laugh at that. “His victims? Come on, you’re not talking seriously, are you?”
Taylor seemed to think about it. “Mr Beecher… How long have you known Christopher Keller?”
The memories were simmering close to the surface. His teenage friendship with Keller was a secret he’d never told anyone about so talking about him now, even in such circumstances, was a relief. Of course Toby was smart enough to keep silent about anything that would sound suspicious. The kisses were not mentioned. Toby would think about it later.
The FBI agent listened to him with rapt attention, his blue eyes never wavering from Toby’s face. “I was drunk, agent Taylor. Keller offered to drive me home. You know the rest.”
“You were found lying on the ground, unconscious. We got an anonymous call but when we arrived the bike and Keller were gone. Are you certain it was not some inventive way to get rid of you?”
Beecher remembered the car; Keller’s exclamation, the long slide across the wet road and the fall. Jesus, where was Keller? How badly was he wounded?
“We will ask you to make a deposition later. We’ve been after Keller for months now. We suspect he killed at least three young men after raping them…”
“This is absurd,” Beecher said. “Keller wouldn’t rape anyone.”
That brought a narrow smile to Taylor’s lips. “What about killing them?”
Beecher shrugged it off.
“Anyway he might contact you again. If he does, I want you to call me.”
Beecher frowned, staring at Taylor’s face. “Keller didn’t kill anyone. I’m sure of that.”
Taylor didn’t even grace Beecher’s words with an answer. “Call me. This is no joke. You got a good job, Mr Beecher. A beautiful wife. Nice kids… Don’t jeopardize them.”
So Beecher ended with Taylor’s card, a concussion, a headache and a lot of explanations to give Gen.
“You have strange friends,” she said, frowning in disapprobation.
“I was a kid, Honey. Teenagers need a few strange friends now and then.”
Gen glanced at Harry who was busy colorizing some image on a book and sighed. “I never felt that need,” she said.
Which must be why you get so boring sometimes, Toby thought almost angrily. Jesus. What was happening to him? Shame crept over him. “But you were a girl. Girls are so much more civilized than us boys.”
She deigned to smile at that but later suggested that he did something about the drinking. She seemed to take the whole thing rather well.
That was when Beecher realized how deep in shit he was; not just because of the booze addiction. The only thing he could think about while Gen was lying peacefully by his side was how and when he would be able to see Keller again. The thought kept him awake all night.
It was Saturday night. Keller had been on the hunt for a couple of days now. What he’d been looking for he eventually found in this city center bar he’d never come to. He didn’t like hunting so deep in the city - the fringes were his usual territory. This time though, the find made the risk all worthwile.
What Keller could see of the guy from the door made him ravenous… Blond hair, pale flexible neck, lean frame packed in a tailored suit. And the number of drinks he’d downed. The whole picture said a lot. He would be an easy mark. That kind of men always was. Drowning whatever imaginary sorrow they had, ready for him. He would take him on his bike. It was summer; a warm starry night. What about a ride in the woods? And there he would take his time fucking him the way he loved it - the way the guy would love it. After that… He met his own feral grin in the mirror.
Here we go, baby.
The bar was crowded. While Keller elbowed his way to his prey, the man got up, a little unsteady, preparing to leave. Not so soon, baby, Keller thought, shoving people out of this way to reach the guy before he left, resting a hand on his shoulder at last. “Hey…”
The man turned and stared at Chris for a couple of seconds before frowning, incredulous.
“Chris?” he said. “Chris Keller?”
Keller’s hand fell. “Sweet fucking Jesus. Beecher.”
There was no mistaking Beecher’s delighted smile, his shining eyes. Keller found himself smiling back, his hand ruffling Beecher’s short hair. “Hey. That a surprise. How fucking long has it been?”
Toby laughed. “I don’t know. Too long!” He sounded goofy.
“You’re drunk, Beecher,” Keller said, amused.
“Are you sure of that?”
The look on Beecher’s face was almost… flirtatious - or was it just Keller’s imagination?
“Yeah. Yeah.” He shook himself out of the sudden uncomfortable feeling. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Beecher stumbled out, almost falling down the stairs. Keller had to help him keep his balance. It felt good to have Toby so close. He smelt good, a clean fresh scent in spite of the booze. Beecher leant against him for a moment, breathing hard. Keller gave him a sidelong glance. His plans for the evening were ruined. But fuck it was good to see Beecher again.
“Fancy a ride?”
Beecher seemed to ponder. “Where? There’s nothing left of our old place, you know. Built a shopping mall there instead. Bastards.”
“Anywhere can do… You’ll love the ride.”
They stopped in front of Keller’s bike. “Wow! That baby’s yours?” Beecher asked, incredulous. He ran the palm of his hand over the saddle. “I never got on a bike before.” He laughed again, a genuine, happy laugh and Keller knew, really knew, just by the sound of it, that Beecher didn’t laugh very often. It troubled him.
He got on the bike and gestured Beecher to sit behind him. “Fucking put this on,” he commanded, handing him the second helmet he always carried. It took some fumbling and muted swearing - Beecher swearing was sweet, really.
“You ready, Beecher?” he asked, starting the bike. He felt Beecher’s nod against his back, and all the way he could feel Toby’s arms around his waist and the rumble of his drunken laugh against his back. The bike was powerful and fast… It was obvious that Beecher was enjoying the ride.
“Jesus, Chris! It’s wonderful”, Beecher said when they stopped, taking off the helmet. “It feels like… freedom.”
Keller smiled. “That’s the point, Toby.” He parked the bike. It was a nice night. They walked for half a mile maybe before finding a nice place. Keller sat on a trunk in the middle of a clearing.
“So Beecher,” Keller asked. “Why all the drinking?”
“I was bored. I didn’t want to go home.” Beecher sat beside Chris on the old trunk and combed his hair back.
“No one waiting for you there?”
Beecher seemed to mull the question over. He sighed. “Yes. I got a wife. Two kids.”
The sheepish admission made him look young and lost. Chris stared at the boyish profile for a moment. Upturned nose, sweet mouth, slightly sweaty blond locks. Beecher had stopped talking.
“Is she any good, that wife of yours? Does she give good head?” Chris asked.
Beecher stood up, took a few steps away and turned to face Keller. “Gen… She’s not that kind. Jesus, Keller, you’re asking the most embarrassing things.”
It was Chris’ turn to rise from his uncomfortable seat and join Beecher who had picked up a few stones and was throwing them into the small pond one by one.
“Tell me, Beecher… Did any of your girlfriends give you what you need in bed? Hot dirty sweaty sex? Messy sex?”
The last stone hit the water and Beecher shrugged. “Gen and I… I love her. I love the kids. I needed that.”
“Yeah,” Chris said, very softly. “I guess it’s important to you.”
“It is. More than you can figure out,” Beecher said, defensive.
They stared at each other for too long. Eventually Keller crossed the distance between them and rested a hand on the nape of Beecher’s nec, where the skin was warm under the soft hair. Warm and soft and slightly damp with sweat. “Everyone deserves to be kissed properly,” he said, pulling Beecher to him, and meeting very little resistance. Beecher’s lips were soft and warm; they parted obediently, letting Chris’ tongue enter the heat of Beecher’s mouth. It tasted of booze there. It took some time to Beecher to kiss back. When he did, Keller found that more exciting than anything else. They parted breathlessly.
Beecher tried to step back but Keller was reluctant to let him go. “More,” he said. “Let me kiss you again.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Chris,” Beecher said.
“Come on, Toby. Come on!” Keller would have begged. No one had called him Chris for so long. He had not kissed a man for months and he missed it badly. “One last time and I’ll drive you back to your car.”
It was lame but the offer seemed to win Beecher over and they kissed again, dazed with lust, pressing against each other… Beecher pushed Keller back. “I still have a wife, Chris. This is cheating.”
“She won’t know,” Chris said, holding him back. One more minute. Suddenly, fuck knew why, kissing Beecher was the most important thing in Keller’s sorry life.
“But I will,” Beecher said softly closing his eyes when Keller stroked his back. Ha. You want it, Keller thought. “Besides,” Beecher added with a self-deprecating smile, “I’m a terrible liar.”
“You lied to your parents for years about seeing me.”
“Yes. You’re right. But this… this is something else.”
Keller stepped back, trembling with frustrated lust. Any other guy he would have smashed down, bashed his head against the ground and roughened up - but this was Beecher. He still remembered his awed gaze, his obvious adoration for an older, more experienced, wilder boy. Hurting Beecher would’ve meant killing memories Keller still treasured. There were not so many of them.
“Sure,” he said, keeping his voice level. “Sure. I was married too. Three women. I know what you’re talking about.”
“You?” Beecher laughed. “Who were the lucky girls?”
The laugh was infectious. A laughing Beecher was a sight to behold. “I even married Bonnie twice. Bonnie’s some woman, you know.”
Beecher looked serious again, staring at Keller. “I bet she is,” he said. “What happened?”
Keller shook his head. “The sex was amazing. But sex… When it was over...” Never before had he realized how fucking true that was. “We had nothing in common.”
“Was it for good? No other woman?”
“I was in love, Beecher, right? I never cheated on them.” He smiled - Geez, when had he started sounding so solemn? Still, when Beecher nodded, looking all serious suddenly, he felt glad. “Listen, let’s go back. I’ll take you back to your place. I don’t think you can drive.”
“Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”
Used to it? How much did Beecher drink, exactly? How often? The thought worried Keller. It probably showed because Beecher blushed slightly. “Don’t worry, Chris. I’ll be fine.”
Why the fuck should he worry? It was not like they were close or anything, after all. He was not Beecher’s keeper. Fuck; his life was complicated enough as it was. He nodded. “OK. You know better. Let’s go then.”
It started raining and Keller slowed down. But when the dark SUV seemed to materialize out of the blue at the next crossroad there was nothing he could do. He swerved, braking desperately, feeling the bike slide down the wet road and the shock of the hard fall on the asphalt, the bike crushing his leg. He heard himself yell and someone else, and tried to look back to see how Beecher was doing but could not. After that, it took all he had not to sink into the tempting void of unconsciousness.
**********************
Toby woke up to a world of confusion and pain. He was lying on a hospital bed, an IV in his arm. Gen and his father were standing by his side. His father looked worried and grave. Gen burst in tears when he tried to reach out for her.
“God, Tobias,” his father said. “What were you thinking? We have been worried to death. You could have died.”
At that, his mind decided that unconsciousness was after all the best choice. I am such a coward, he thought before sinking.
The second time Gen and his father were gone. A stranger was sitting on the chair and Jesus did he look like trouble. His pale eyes were fixed on Toby’s face with an expression of something akin to hunger, his mouth a thin line. “Who are you?” Toby asked, hating the trembling in his voice.
He was flashed a badge. “Agent Taylor. FBI.”
Trouble indeed. The Harvard part of Beecher’s brain suddenly came to life and silenced the pain for a moment.
“I wasn’t aware that the FBI was interested in bike accidents,” he said, sitting up, fighting the throbbing pain in his head and arm.
The man - Taylor - smiled at that. “We are not. It’s Christopher Keller we’re interested in.”
Toby frowned. “Where is he? How is he? He must be wounded, I have to…”
“Keller’s gone.”
It took Toby a whole minute to process the fact. “Gone?” He realized he sounded like a sneezy duck. He cleared his throat before going on. “How? He fell… I saw him… I fell down on him…”
Taylor sighed. “You know, it’s a miracle to have you here alive, Mr Beecher. And I’m not talking about the accident. Keller generally makes sure his victims do not survive.”
Toby had to laugh at that. “His victims? Come on, you’re not talking seriously, are you?”
Taylor seemed to think about it. “Mr Beecher… How long have you known Christopher Keller?”
The memories were simmering close to the surface. His teenage friendship with Keller was a secret he’d never told anyone about so talking about him now, even in such circumstances, was a relief. Of course Toby was smart enough to keep silent about anything that would sound suspicious. The kisses were not mentioned. Toby would think about it later.
The FBI agent listened to him with rapt attention, his blue eyes never wavering from Toby’s face. “I was drunk, agent Taylor. Keller offered to drive me home. You know the rest.”
“You were found lying on the ground, unconscious. We got an anonymous call but when we arrived the bike and Keller were gone. Are you certain it was not some inventive way to get rid of you?”
Beecher remembered the car; Keller’s exclamation, the long slide across the wet road and the fall. Jesus, where was Keller? How badly was he wounded?
“We will ask you to make a deposition later. We’ve been after Keller for months now. We suspect he killed at least three young men after raping them…”
“This is absurd,” Beecher said. “Keller wouldn’t rape anyone.”
That brought a narrow smile to Taylor’s lips. “What about killing them?”
Beecher shrugged it off.
“Anyway he might contact you again. If he does, I want you to call me.”
Beecher frowned, staring at Taylor’s face. “Keller didn’t kill anyone. I’m sure of that.”
Taylor didn’t even grace Beecher’s words with an answer. “Call me. This is no joke. You got a good job, Mr Beecher. A beautiful wife. Nice kids… Don’t jeopardize them.”
So Beecher ended with Taylor’s card, a concussion, a headache and a lot of explanations to give Gen.
“You have strange friends,” she said, frowning in disapprobation.
“I was a kid, Honey. Teenagers need a few strange friends now and then.”
Gen glanced at Harry who was busy colorizing some image on a book and sighed. “I never felt that need,” she said.
Which must be why you get so boring sometimes, Toby thought almost angrily. Jesus. What was happening to him? Shame crept over him. “But you were a girl. Girls are so much more civilized than us boys.”
She deigned to smile at that but later suggested that he did something about the drinking. She seemed to take the whole thing rather well.
That was when Beecher realized how deep in shit he was; not just because of the booze addiction. The only thing he could think about while Gen was lying peacefully by his side was how and when he would be able to see Keller again. The thought kept him awake all night.