The Good, The Bad and The Oz Drabble Tree
The First Ever Oz Drabble Tree, The Return of Oz Drabble Tree, The Little Oz Drabble Tree That Could, Are You There God? It's Oz Drabble Tree, Oz Drabble Tree Knows Best, In Oz Drabble Tree, No One Can Hear You Scream, This Is An Emergency Oz Drabble Tree, Please, Sir, May I Have Another Oz Drabble Tree?, Leggo My Oz Drabble Tree, Come With Oz
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Toby looks at the ceiling, it’s getting closer. It feels like it’s suffocating him, Chris would laugh at that. He has to return to insanity to bear reality.
Chris has cast him out like yesterday’s garbage because he fucked Mondo.
No, because he thought the worst of Chris.
Because he thought Chris had kidnapped Gary and Holly.
As if.
Mr fuckem and killem is not a child napper.
Thank God for that. Or Allah.
Toby contemplates sucking off Hoyt next. He’s hung and that would drive Chris nuts.
Toby can’t find Hoyt so he finds another biker to blow.
He goes down on the tattooed scum who paints his face with his come.
Mondo is dead, and this loser is next.
Toby cackles and returns to his cell, sensing Chris’ burning gaze on his bruised lips and come-streaked face.
Hi lover, game on.
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“How’d it go, Tim?” Sean asked, clapping him on the back as they walked down the corridor.
“I’m sure you’ve already figured it out.”
“That bad, huh?” Sean didn’t even bother to suppress his smile.
“The worst,” Tim said.
“Tell you what, let’s go to that new Italian place tonight. My treat.”
“Yeah, why not?” Tim said. “At least I know you won’t get drunk and vomit in my car.”
He laughed. Sooner or later, Tim was going to realize that he always had a good time when he was with Sean.
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Ryan has been very naughty and he’ll get an extra stick.
Keller. Keller is the naughtiest of all, and he pines so pathetically over his beloved Toby-kins.
Claire imagines spanking his gorgeous ass until it’s an appetizing shade of red, and then showing him Toby isn’t the only blowjob queen of Oz.
She has nothing but love for her boys.
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"What're you thinking about?" Toby hums drowsily against Chris' chest.
Chris highly doubts Toby wants to know the truth. That he would kill to see Toby dressed in drag and on his knees with, dick-suck red (fucking O'Reily), lipstick painting Toby's lips, along with his come.
And since there's no way Chris wants to end up like Robson, he lies (sort of), "You baby, always thinking about you."
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Chris Keller was on his knees in front of the cop his lover has brought home.
“Go on boys, give me a show,” purred Toby as Chris looked at his double’s impressive length in his jeans.
“It’s incest,” said Chris and pulled Elliot’s zipper down.
“It’s all relative,” said Toby, and stroked himself.
“He’s not my relative,” said Elliot. “He’s s faulty version of me.”
“Sure, El whatever,” sighed Toby as Chris started to work on the cop’s cock.
The recently divorced man looked at the skel at his feet with an imperious gaze.
Chris made him moan and sigh like whore.
“I like it,” said Toby, and worked himself over with short jagged thrusts.
Elliot moaned and painted Chris’ face with his come.
That pushed Toby over the edge, and he came all over himself.
“Come here you bitch,” said Chris and wiped his face with his sleeves.
“Don’t talk to him like that,” said Elliot harshly and Chris smiled.
This was going to be fun.
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"Welcome to your new home, boys."
Ryan and Cyril stepped inside and cautiously investigated their surroundings. The house was small, old and run-down, and it smelled weird.
Ryan and Cyril exchanged looks and turned toward their mother. Her tight, nervous smile served as a warning.
"Start bringin' in boxes, boys," Seamus instructed. "O'Malley needs his truck soon."
When they were safely outside, Cyril muttered, "What a dump."
Ryan nodded his head in agreement. "When I grow up, I'm moving far away from here," he proclaimed.
"Can I come with you?" Cyril quietly asked,
Ryan smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
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He asked Ryan about it once, but his brother got mad and said, “Mind your own business,” and “I’m going to kill that Nazi fuck.” So he didn’t ask anymore.
Cyril quietly lay down, understanding that there were things he would never understand.
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"Am not," Toby said, petulant.
"Yeah," Chris insisted, sucking hard on the head of Toby's cock. "What's got you worked up, baby?"
"Stop fucking calling me that," Toby snapped, digging his heel into Chris's side.
"Piss-y," Chris repeated. He spat on his fingers, sliding them down between Toby's legs. "Angie'd get pissed off --"
Toby pushed at Chris's forehead, ignoring how Chris's eyes narrowed.
"Like I want to hear about her," Toby said, twisting, closing his thighs.
"Story's got a happy ending," Chris said, laughing. "I'd go down on her 'til she was smiling again ( ... )
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"Gosh, I make such a mess when I work." Ray's new seminary roommate slid the cake pan into the oven and then turned, holding up his batter-covered fingers. "But don't worry, I always clean up after myself."
Ray watched as the young man licked his fingers, his lips curved in a playful grin as his tongue slid out between them, licking the white batter from his light brown skin.
He realized he had been asked a question. "Want a taste?" his roommate repeated, holding out the mixing spoon.
Ray looked into soft, dark eyes and swallowed hard.
"No," he lied.
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Rating: R
”My boyfriend is dead,” says Toby over his third beer ( ... )
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There was a time when filet mignon and a baked potato drenched in butter was something to be expected instead of a dream that would never come true. Sometimes, he’d get prime rib, just to change things up a bit. He used to love that little French restaurant where he’d proposed to Gen. Fine wine, linen tablecloths, crystal-
“Pay attention, Beachball.”
Toby rubbed the back of his head where Schillinger had smacked him.
Fucking chicken nuggets.
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“No. I wanna rim you in Rome,” said Toby, voice low and sexy.
“Fuck, Toby, I’m horny,” said Chris.
“Doesn’t take much,” said Toby.
“I’m gonna hold you to that.”
“We won’t see Rome.”
“In our dreams,” said Chris. “Now come on, the showers are empty.”
Toby whistled nonchalantly as he patted the lube he had palmed from Hoyt in his pocket.
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“Some days I can hardly remember what it was like…”
Beecher blinked at Ryan in confusion.
“Being free, I mean.” He took a toke off the joint Beecher passed him.
Beecher barked out a humorless laugh. “It’s all I can think of,” he said, blowing out a thin stream of smoke with his words.
“Yeah, I can relate to that. There are times I can almost taste a cold draft from O’Henry’s Pub.” He sighed heavily. “We had good times there. That’s where me and Shannon were when I popped the question.”
Beecher snickered. “Jesus, O’Reily.”
“What? You think I’d take her to a fancy French restaurant? That’s more your style than mine ( ... )
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