Wish #23 for untrodden by dustandroses
Request 1:
Pairing/Character(s): Ryan O'Reily/Miguel Alvarez
Keyword/Prompt Phrase: "We were born to fuck each other/ One way or another." -- Evening on the Ground (Lilith's Song), Iron & Wine
Canon/AU/Either: Either
Special Requests: Smut would be great, but not entirely necessary.
Story/Art/Either: Story preferred.
Title: Distracted
Pairing: Miguel Alvarez/Ryan O’Reily
Rating: NC17
Summary: Ryan searches for distractions, and finds more than he’d expected.
Spoilers: Through Cruel and Unusual Punishments, Season Three, Episode Six
Word Count: 6100 words
Author’s Notes: Many thanks to my recipient for the excellent prompt. Check out the song here: Evening On The Ground (Lilith's Song) Several quotes taken from Unnatural Disasters and U. S. Male - Season Three, Episodes Four and Five, written by Tom Fontana and Bradford Winters. Quick and Dirty Beta by the marvelous Trillingstar on everything but the last scene - any faults you find there you can blame directly on me.
Distracted
Hernandez and his men cut a path across the quad, a beeline straight for the shower room. Ryan grinned. This should be interesting. He checked on Cyril, but he was fine; sitting in the front row of chairs, eyes glued to some stupid sitcom on the TV. Ryan moved to another table, one with a clearer view of the showers where Alvarez stood head down, hands braced on the wall, letting the water pour over his shoulders.
As soon as Hernandez walked in the door, the men at the sinks grabbed their shit and practically ran out of the room, quickly followed by the man at the showerhead next to Alvarez’. Smart move. Hernandez’ heavy frown would make Ryan think twice himself, even with Cyril at his back. He wasn’t surprised. Ryan’d known from the moment he’d seen Alvarez walk through the gates into Em City that Hernandez wasn’t gonna be happy to see him.
There was no doubt in Ryan’s mind that Hernandez ordered Alvarez to blind that hack last summer. That trick had the sick fuck’s stink all over it. He’d been pressuring Alvarez for months at that point, so it was no big surprise the poor bastard had snapped. Ryan didn’t get why Hernandez hated Alvarez so much, but in the end it didn’t matter. He’d wanted Alvarez gone, and he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.
Ryan had been shocked to see Alvarez back. He’d thought the hacks would have thrown away the key after that stunt. But here he was, and it looked like Hernandez was pissed as hell about it. They talked for a while, but it looked like whatever Hernandez was looking for, Alvarez gave him, because Alvarez was still in one piece when they left, much to Guerra’s disgust from the look of things.
Ryan headed back to the TVs, now that his entertainment had turned out a bust. If he was Alvarez, and thank Christ he wasn’t, he wouldn’t turn his back on any of that bunch. Ryan tried to keep his dealings with El Norte to a minimum, that crew was too hotheaded for him. You couldn’t trust a man who let his emotions get in the way of business.
He’d watched them all carefully last summer, when Hernandez had first shown up. Ryan made a habit of keeping a close eye on the movers and shakers in Oz. It had saved his life more than once. Alvarez did a decent job of running the gang, but he’d handed them over to Hernandez without a fight. It made sense, El Cid was a name even Ryan knew, with as little contact as he’d had with the Latinos on the outside. The guy was powerful, and had a reputation you didn’t want to mess with if you knew what was good for you.
He’d made a mistake with Alvarez, though, in Ryan’s opinion, at least. Alvarez was good at what he did; he’d have been a good second in command. He already had the respect of the gang. They knew him and stood by him, so why throw all that away?
Ryan slid into the chair next to Cyril’s, still turning the puzzle over in his mind. Hernandez behaved erratically, and that made him harder to figure out, but some things could be counted on, and his hatred of Alvarez was one of them. Ryan tracked Alvarez’ progress across the quad, dressed in nothing but a white towel. He let out a low whistle as Alvarez stepped into his pod. They had him rooming with Hernandez, Jesus, the bastard might as well just give up now and ask to go back to Solitary. He sure as hell wasn’t gonna last long in Em City.
Alvarez moved like he was on fire, hitting the bag at a punishing pace, his muscles bunching and flexing, his skin slick with sweat. Ryan had never noticed how fast the guy could move before. He’d obviously kept himself in shape while he was in Solitary, but then, what the fuck else was there to do? Alvarez was better off shadow boxing than he was chasing shadows, and that about covered the list of things to do in Solitary. Well, you could always hang yourself, but Alvarez had tried that one already from what Ryan had heard.
Ryan had asked around after Alvarez came back; he was in some program with Sister Pete that had gotten him out of his time in Solitary. Maybe the Sister had him on some happy pills or something. He didn’t look happy at the moment, though. The Latino kid holding the heavy bag for him was obviously struggling to keep his balance. Alvarez was knocking the hell out of it.
He pointed Alvarez out, making sure Cyril studied Alvarez’ style. The bastard was good. Ryan hadn’t been worried about Cyril facing Ricardo since he wasn’t anything special. Too bad he’d ended up in the Hole, ‘cause Alvarez was a threat. He had good moves, and a powerful punch. And he was fast - at least as fast as Cyril. Alvarez was due to take on Kramer in a couple of days. Kramer was good, but Ryan knew Cyril was better; he could take the faggot any day of the week. Alvarez, on the other hand…
Ryan hadn’t planned to interfere with any of the matches that Cyril wasn’t in, but it might be a good idea to get Alvarez out of the way before he got a chance to beat Cyril. If he played his cards right, he could make a few bucks while he was at it. Last he’d heard, the odds were fifty to one in Alvarez’ favor. Ryan smirked at Alvarez’ back as he made a few mental calculations. Oh yeah, his idea had potential.
Ryan scowled down at the tomatoes he was cutting, his butcher knife chopping haphazardly and making a sloppy mess of them, the juices running off the stainless steel table to pool on the floor at his feet. In his mind, it was McManus’ head on the table, and the knife came down extra hard, the tomato splitting in two, half of it flying off the table to hit Pancamo in the stomach, staining his white apron as the tomato stuck to him for a second before plopping to the floor. Shit.
“If you’re through massacring the salad, go help your brother with the trays, we’re down one dishwasher today, and he’s falling behind.”
Ryan looked down at the mess he’d made. “Sorry. Guess I’m a little uptight.”
Pancamo raised one eyebrow. “I noticed. I’ll finish this up, go help your brother.”
“Right.”
Pancamo kept his distance until Ryan set his knife down, and Ryan smirked as he turned away. The man was a survivor; he knew better than to get within stabbing distance of an angry man with a knife.
Chopping the shit out of those tomatoes had helped, though. He felt better than he had since he saw Gloria this morning, on her way to the padre’s office. He’d been setting up trays for the breakfast rush when she’d passed through the cafeteria, and he’d dropped everything on the counter, calling out to her as she walked past. She’d turned toward him, and Ryan thought she might have spoken to him if it weren’t for McManus.
The bastard was at her side in a moment, shouting at Pancamo to keep his crew in line before it was taken away from him. Pancamo had yelled at Ryan and he’d yelled back and McManus had whisked Gloria away before he’d gotten a chance to do more than say her name. Fucking bastard.
Ryan knew she’d forgive him eventually. He knew it. He just wasn’t sure how long he could hold on before he fell apart. He’d tried to set her aside. Tried to forget her. But she always wormed her way back into his mind, no matter what he did. The boxing matches were the best thing to happen to him in a long time. They’d given him something to concentrate on, to keep thoughts of Gloria at bay, stick her in a box in the back of his mind, and lock her away for a while.
Seeing her had set Ryan off again, it always did. He belonged with her, and she belonged to him. She just didn’t realize it yet, but she would, eventually. In the meantime, he had to keep distracting himself, find as many things as he could to concentrate on, things that had nothing to do with her. It made the time without her bearable.
His fingers traced the letters of the tattoo on his forearm. It just didn’t seem right to see Shannon’s name there. They’d been divorced for a while now, but with Shannon’s name on his arm, he didn’t feel free, and he needed to be free for Gloria when she finally came around. That might take a while, though, so he had time to figure out a way to get rid of it. For now, what he needed was to find something else to focus on.
“Miguel, how's it feel to get your ass whipped by a faggot?”
Ryan laughed as Alvarez threatened Wangler for being a smart ass. The really funny thing was that Alvarez could whip Wangler’s ass on a bad day, but getting the shit beat out of him by Kramer the day before had given everyone license to razz the poor bastard.
“What you gonna do, hit me with your purse, motherfucker?”
Ouch.
Wangler was in rare form today.
The hack moved Wangler on, so that was the end of that, but Ryan’s fun wasn’t over yet. He could hear Hernandez harassing Alvarez, even if he couldn’t understand the words he was using. When Alvarez threw his cards at Hernandez, Ryan dropped his own to the table, ready to grab Cyril if need be, and get him out of the danger zone.
He didn’t expect Hernandez to lunge at Alvarez like a crazy man. They were too close for Alvarez to get in a good punch, and Hernandez had the advantage in weight, so the two grappled, locked in a parody of a hug as they each tried to gain the advantage over the other. When that new hack Hughes stepped in with a stun gun, Ryan grabbed Cyril and pulled him away from the action.
A fucking stun gun! What the hell? There was sure to be an investigation into that mess, and Ryan didn’t want Cyril stuck in the middle of that shit. But damn, setting Alvarez up to take a fall to Kramer had turned out to be the most fun he’d had in weeks. He’d been looking for something to distract him from Gloria; fucking with Alvarez just might do the trick.
The Latinos moved slowly up the lunch line, Hernandez and Guerra talking quietly, their heads close together as they nodded in agreement while the rest joked around or talked in rapid-fire Spanish that was way to fast for Ryan’s inexperienced ear to translate. You picked up shit on the streets growing up, but these guys heard that shit from the cradle on, there was no way to eavesdrop on them unless you’d grown up with the language.
Still, you could learn a lot from a guy’s body language, if you kept your eyes open. Hernandez, for instance, was a dangerous fuck. You could tell that from the way he held himself, the way his eyes never stopped moving, scanning the cafeteria even as he spoke. Guerra tried to imitate him, but he was too stupid to get it right. Not that he was someone to mess with, but if Ryan had a choice, he’d tangle with Guerra over Hernandez any day.
Ryan scooped a spoonful of green beans onto the next tray, his eyes wandering down the line. At the rear of the Latino group was Alvarez, his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, his eyes focused on the floor in front of him. Talk about body language, Alvarez might as well have a big sign on his back reading “Hit me, please? I haven’t had nearly enough abuse today.” Ryan almost felt sorry for the bastard. Almost.
By the time Cyril slopped a spoonful of mashed potatoes on Alvarez’ tray, Ryan was over the guy’s “poor me” attitude. What the hell had happened to the cocky son-of-a-bitch that had run El Norte before El Cid showed up? He wanted to slap Alvarez in the face and tell him to grow a spine for fuck’s sake. Alvarez held out his tray without making eye contact but Ryan was determined to make him work for it.
He scooped up a bunch of green beans as if he was going to put them on the tray, but then pulled back at the last second. “Whoa!”
Alvarez sighed and held his tray closer to the pan and Ryan did it again, laughing with the guys behind Alvarez in line as they egged Ryan on. Alvarez sighed and stepped back, as if he was going to move away without green beans, and Ryan lunged forward, slopping them all over the tray, some of them spilling over the edge onto the floor, a few even hitting his shirt before they fell.
It worked. Ryan got a reaction: Alvarez looked up at him, his eyes burning with hate.
“Fuck you, O'Reily.”
Elated at pushing the right button, Ryan laughed in his face. “Oh, I don’t think so, Alvarez. From what I hear, you’re the one that takes it up the ass. Or should I ask Hernandez about that?”
Alvarez dropped his tray on the counter and walked away, the catcalls of his fellow inmates trailing him out of the cafeteria. Ryan went back to dishing up the green beans with new enthusiasm. He hadn’t had this much fun in ages.
Wangler couldn’t keep his laughter in check for long, as soon as McManus walked away he and his buddies burst out laughing, mugging to each other about how sincere they’d acted when they’d heard about the death of Wangler’s wife. Ryan stared at Wangler with disgust. Christ on a crutch. That boy was the worst fucking actor he’d ever seen. Only McManus would fall for that shit. Ryan felt a small bit of satisfaction knowing exactly how clueless that asshole McManus really was.
Ryan ran his fingernails across the tattoo on his arm, the skin under Shannon’s name turning red as he scratched at the letters as if he could scratch the ink right off his arm. He had seen Gloria just that morning, coming out of McManus’ office, but although she’d stared at him for a long moment before McManus hustled her away, she hadn’t even tried to speak to him. It was too early for him to expect her to accept his love, he knew that, but seeing her everywhere he went made it so hard to keep his distance. It was easy to find distractions, but there weren’t that many that could hold his interest long enough to truly keep him entertained.
Speaking of… Ryan stood up, keeping his eyes on the prize, and headed toward the gate where Alvarez was being escorted into Em City. His visit with Sister Pete must have been a rough one judging from the dark, heavy shadows under his red-rimmed eyes. The timing was perfect for fucking with his head some more, and baiting Alvarez was fast becoming Ryan’s favorite pastime. He looked forward to each opportunity to inflict a little damage with more enthusiasm than he’d been able to muster for anything since before he met Gloria.
It looked like he wasn’t gonna have to do a thing, this time. Wangler was sitting at the table closest to Alvarez’ path, and Ryan could see him building up to something, his bright, beady little eyes following Alvarez as he walked closer, a cruel smile on his lips. Alvarez’ eyes were glued to the floor in front of him. He never even noticed Wangler’s foot pop out far enough to catch Alvarez’ ankle as he passed by, sending him sprawling into one of the empty tables. The chairs skidded across the floor as he fell, the table landing on its side with a loud thud.
Wangler and Junior were howling with laughter, giving each other a high five as Poet held his head like it hurt because he’d laughed too hard. Everyone who’d seen it happen laughed and snickered at Alvarez as he slowly picked himself up, his angry eyes focused on Wangler. A couple of the hacks wandered their way, just in case things got out of hand, but they didn’t interfere with the heckling, which was smart. The last thing anyone in Alvarez’ position needed was to be defended by the hacks. He’d never live that shit down.
“Moving slow today, Miguel.” Junior’s voice shook with laughter.
Somebody in the peanut gallery shouted out, “No wonder he lost to that fag Kramer.”
Ryan couldn’t help but throw in his own two cents. “Old lady Reimondo beat the shit out of you again today? You can’t even take on a nun, Alvarez?”
Alvarez transferred his hate-filled glare to Ryan. “Fuck you, O'Reily.” He shouldered his way through the jeering crowd. “Fuck all of you.”
Ryan watched him go, a little disappointed. This would be so much more fun if Alvarez would show a bit of that spirit Ryan had seen back when they’d first landed here in Oz. But that Alvarez would never be in this position in the first place, so he guessed he’d have to take what he could get. He ran the image of Alvarez’ ungainly sprawl across the table through his mind, chuckling to himself. You took your entertainment where you could get it in a crap heap like Oz.
He noticed Beecher and Schillinger’s brat Andrew sitting at a table across the quad, cards forgotten in their hands as they watched the scene curiously. He didn’t like not being at the heart of an operation he was invested so heavily in, so this whole sitting on the sidelines gig while Beecher played his hand was frustrating as hell. Beecher nodded at him, one eyebrow raised. Looks like this might be a good opportunity to squeeze in some prime time spent screwing with little Andy’s mind time.
Good timing. With Alvarez holed up in his pod, and Cyril asleep in theirs, O’Reily could use a new distraction. He plopped down into the seat next to Andrew, clapping him on the shoulder like a true buddy would do.
Rubbing his hands together briskly, he grinned at them. “Deal me in, guys.”
“I still love Gloria and I try to fight it but I can't. She's under my skin, man. She's under my fucking skin.”
Ryan’s breath hitched and he dropped his eyes, focusing on raking the scrub brush across his bleeding skin, doing his best to wipe Shannon out of his life. He had no idea why he’d bared his soul to Said like that. Maybe it was all the shit he’d been hearing about Said and that white chick he was mooning over. He was in the same boat as Ryan, loving a woman that was forbidden to him.
Said stared at him for a moment, then silently walked away. Ryan turned his back, struggling to control his ragged breathing. His arm was a bloody mess, but he could still see Shannon’s name, the dark ink of the tattoo scored into the flesh under the surface. The stiff bristles of the brush he’d stolen from the kitchen stung like a motherfucker as they scraped across the abraded skin, but he intended to keep scrubbing until he’d gotten rid of Shannon. He didn’t have a choice. He needed to be free of the taint of Shannon before he could be ready for Gloria.
What he’d told Said was true. Gloria was under his skin. The tattoo that showed Shannon’s hold on him was only skin deep. Gloria was deep down inside him, and he’d never be free of her, no matter how hard he tried.
“¡Puta madre!”
Ryan looked up. Alvarez stood in the doorway, staring at him like he was some kind of monster or something. His breath hitched as he tried to speak, so Ryan clenched his teeth against the pain, turning his back on Alvarez’ shocked expression.
“What the fuck are you doing, O'Reily?”
He didn’t need this shit right now. He spoke through clenched teeth. “Get the hell away from me, asshole.”
Alvarez laughed and leaned his hip on one of the sinks, making himself comfortable. “No fucking way, man. If you’re dropping off the deep end, I’m gonna be here waving goodbye as they cart you away in a straightjacket. I always knew you were a sick fuck, man. Now I got proof. Oh, hey! Maybe I should invite Wangler in to see this. He’d have a fucking field day over this shit.”
Alvarez’ eyes were bright with laughter, and his grin was wild, almost feral in its ferocity. “This is the best entertainment I’ve had in months!”
Ryan’s hands shook, and the scrub brush slipped out of his grip, dropping into the sink. He braced his hands on the edges, bloody fingers sliding on the cool steel. He pulled in a shaky breath. Okay. It looked like that was all he could handle today. He’d clean it up and see what was left, and try again later if he needed to.
For you, Gloria. This is all for you. He spoke to her in his head; it was nothing that Alvarez deserved to hear. He turned the faucet on, and bracing himself, shoved his arm under the water.
“Oh, fuck!” Ryan curled up on himself, his head bowed over the sink as the cold water sluiced over the torn and damaged skin. His eyes watered with the pain, but he bit his lip, holding his cries inside after that first outburst. When he could breathe again in gasping breaths that felt like they were torn from his lungs - he slowly opened his eyes and began the painful task of cleaning the wound.
He glanced over, expecting to see contempt and ridicule in Alvarez’ eyes, but to Ryan’s surprise, Alvarez was gone. Ryan took a deep breath, and whispered, “Only for you, Gloria.”
Ryan’d had about enough of Miguel Alvarez. Fucking asshole ordering him around, shoving him up against the wall, groping him as he stole all of Ryan’s tits. Assume the position my ass. Fucking prick. He’d been so smug, that lollipop in his mouth, smirking at Ryan as Hernandez shut him down. Ryan wanted to shove that lollipop right down the fucker’s throat, but he’d sat there and taken it, ‘cause he hadn’t had any other choice with Ricardo and Guerra right outside the fucking door watching the whole goddamned thing.
At least he’d gotten his revenge on Hernandez. That motherfucker was gonna spend some quality time contemplating his navel or whatever, while he rotted in the Hole. But Alvarez had slipped the leash. He let the other three take the rap while he slid out the back way, slick as owl shit. Well, he was on his own now. Without Hernandez and Guerra to call the shots, the Latinos were gonna run wild. They wouldn’t listen to a word Alvarez said at this point, his rep was in the gutter. With no one watching Alvarez’ back, Ryan was free to get in some well-deserved payback.
He was almost tempted to take the bastard on himself, but he was smarter than that. Alvarez was quick and had one hell of a right hook, and Ryan was no boxer. There was no way he’d come out the winner in that kind of a fight, but that was okay, because when Alvarez was lying in the Infirmary, Ryan would make sure he knew that he’d been set up. Ryan would get his revenge and it would be all the sweeter because it would come from Alvarez’ own hermanos.
He knocked sharply on the storage room door. Vasquez had agreed to meet him here, and he was gonna be pissed as hell to find out that Alvarez had set up Hernandez, Guerra and Ricardo in a bid to take back El Norte. All Ryan would have to do was sit back and watch the fur fly. Piece of cake.
The door cracked opened and with one last glance around, Ryan slid inside. The door closed behind him and Ryan turned and slammed right into Alvarez’ fist. He fell, sprawled across the hard concrete floor, scrabbling for the rolling bucket he’d tripped over, trying to push it into Alvarez’ path as he aimed a kick in Ryan’s direction. Ryan wasn’t quick enough to block the kick, but the bucket threw off Alvarez’ aim, and his foot smashed into Ryan’s stomach instead of his ribs. Crab walking backwards until he hit the wall, Ryan pulled up his legs in an effort to protect his ribs, gasping for breath as he tried to recover from Alvarez’ kick.
Alvarez shoved the bucket out of his way, and it banged into the wall, knocking a stack of mops and brooms to the floor between them. Ryan grabbed one of them, sending the broom around in an arc, trying to knock Alvarez’ legs out from under him, but the bastard was light on his feet, skipping back out of the way. He laughed at Ryan, a dangerous gleam shining in his eyes.
“C’mon, motherfucker. Get up. Think you’re man enough to take me on? Can’t get someone else to do your dirty work for you this time, you bastard. Get up!” He kicked the tangle of mops and brooms savagely, and they rattled noisily as they scattered across the small space.
Ryan used his broom like a crutch and pushed himself to his feet, still struggling for breath. His jaw ached like hell, but his stomach hurt worse, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Ryan knew he was scrappy, and he could fight pretty good for a skinny guy, but Alvarez was tough and fast and Ryan was in deep shit. Was it just earlier this week Ryan had been hoping to see a glimpse of the old Alvarez’ spark? He laughed to himself. Be careful what you wish for was damn right.
That goddamned Vasquez has set him up. He’d been counting on the Latinos to be willing to betray each other, but he hadn’t expected them to turn on him. Stupid mistake, O’Reily. Stupid mistake. He took as deep a breath as he could and put his one and only advantage to work for him.
“Look, Alvarez…”
“No.” Alvarez shook his head, slowly advancing on Ryan’s position against the wall. “No fucking way are you gonna talk yourself out of this one. You’ve been riding my ass since I got out of solitary. Why the hell you wanna fuck with me, huh? What the hell did I do to you?”
“I got nothing against you, Alvarez, honest. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, man.”
Alvarez’ laugh was high-pitched and manic, and Ryan swallowed, trying to find the words that could turn this around. Words were his only weapon, but he wasn’t sure Alvarez was thinking clearly enough to focus on them, and that could mean real trouble. Ryan started talking as fast as he could, ‘cause Alvarez was stalking him, moving around the mops and brooms scattered on the floor and closing in, his wild grin getting wider and more freaky with every step.
“Vasquez is trying to get you to kill me, ‘cause if you’re back in solitary he’ll be free to take over El Norte while Hernandez and his crew are in the Hole…”
With one last lunge, Alvarez was on him, knocking the broom handle out of his hands and slamming him back into the wall. Ryan saw stars when his head bounced off the cinderblocks, and by the time his vision cleared Alvarez was there, mere inches from his face, grinning with a manic glee that struck Ryan dumb. He was pushed up against Ryan, knees to chest, and Ryan gasped at the heat of Alvarez’ body pressed tight against his own.
Alvarez’ hand slapped over Ryan’s mouth as he drew breath to speak. “No more words. I know you. You use words like I use my fists.” Alvarez’ hot breath against his cheek made him shudder involuntarily, and Alvarez laughed, his low voice murmuring. “You like that? Huh? You like it when I whisper in your ear?”
Ryan tried to break free, but Alvarez held him firmly, pushing him back into the wall. He thrust their hips together and Ryan moan against the palm of Alvarez’ hand when his sharp hip bone pressed up against Ryan’s cock. Holy motherfucking shit! He could feel Alvarez’ cock against his thigh, rubbing back and forth and Ryan felt himself harden with the pressure and the friction and oh my fucking god but that felt good.
Ryan moaned again and Alvarez finally pulled his hand away, but before Ryan could say anything, Alvarez’ tongue was in his mouth and he had no choice but to suck on it, fighting with it, pushing against it to force his way into Alvarez’ mouth, where their tongues tangled and fought. His mind kept telling him this wasn’t fucking happening but Ryan knew better.
This was the hottest thing he could remember happening to him since that crazy ass Puerto Rican chick he’d picked up at a bar one night had rimmed his ass and made him come so fast he’d embarrassed himself. He’d fucked her up the ass later that night, and she’d nearly busted his eardrums when she came, screaming his name. Jesus, that had been one seriously wicked fuck. Must be that whole Latin lover thing, ‘cause Alvarez was driving him out of his mind.
His hands squeezed Ryan’s ass rhythmically, pulling their cocks tighter together as they swayed with the force of Alvarez’ hips thrusting their cocks into each other. He needed more, though, so he shoved Alvarez away, and he staggered back a step
“What? Don’t tell me you don’t want this man, ‘cause I know you do.”
Ryan shook his head. “No, wait.” He scrabbled with his fly, his clumsy hands shaking as he pulled down the zip. “I need more.”
Alvarez finally got it, and fought with Ryan’s hands to get the fucking button undone and Alvarez’ pants unzipped. He pushed his pants and his boxers down low on his hips and Ryan reached out before he lost his nerve and grabbed Alvarez’ cock, using it like a leash to pull him closer as Alvarez gasped at the pressure of Ryan’s fingers wrapped tight around him. Ryan’s pants slid down his legs and Alvarez wrapped his hands around both their cocks.
“Fuck!” Ryan had never felt anything like this before. Their cocks slid against each other, their precome slicking their fingers as they held on tight. The sensation was incredible, and he tilted his hips forward, shoving his cock against Alvarez’ and crying out every time Alvarez squeezed the heads together.
Alvarez leaned in close, whispering in his ear again; filthy words in a crazy mix of English and Spanish, about how he wanted to fuck Ryan and how tight he’d be and how good he could make Ryan feel. His rational mind was screaming ‘there’s no way that monster is coming any where near my ass’ but Ryan shoved that back into a corner of his mind and told himself he’d deal with that later, when Alvarez’ hands weren’t so tight around his cock that he thought he might lose his mind.
Alvarez’ had him pressed up against the wall so tight that his feet were barely touching the ground, so he kicked one foot out of his pants and wrapped his leg around Alvarez’ waist. That changed the angle of their thrusts, and they both cried out at the way it pushed their cocks against each other. Alvarez grabbed Ryan’s thigh with one hand, shifting him even higher which freed up Ryan to wrap his other leg around and he locked his ankles behind Alvarez’ back and hung on for the ride.
Alvarez was a fucking wild man, rocking and thrusting and rolling his hips, his muscles bunched tight under Ryan’s hands. His orgasm broke over him unexpectedly when Alvarez bit his shoulder, digging his teeth in until they broke the skin. He muffled his shouts in Alvarez’ neck, his hips jerking wildly, hands wrapped tight around his shoulders. Alvarez jerked his hips three, four more times before freezing, gasping into Ryan’s ear.
Slowly, they slid down the wall, falling into a jumbled heap on the cold cement floor. After several minutes Ryan managed to gather enough working brain cells together to speak.
“Oh, my fucking god.”
Alvarez laughed from his position flat on his back, one hand waving vaguely in the air. “What you said, man.”
“Christ on a fucking crutch.” Ryan raised his head far enough to glance down at his stomach and groin, which were smeared with come, his soft cock lying limply across one still trembling thigh. “I don’t think I ever came that hard in my entire life.”
“Yeah.” Alvarez agreed. “That was…” Words seemed to fail him, so Ryan stepped in with his own.
“Intense.”
Alvarez chuckled. “That works.”
Ryan struggled to sit up, untangling his legs from Alvarez’, and pulling his pants out from under both of their asses. Alvarez sighed and pulled himself up onto his elbows, watching Ryan warily as he struggled to his feet and grabbed a rag off the sink, wetting it down and wiping himself off. He looked surprised when Ryan threw the rag in Alvarez’ direction when he was through with it, letting it plop wetly onto his chest.
“Thanks.”
Ryan shrugged, not willing to say anything at the moment. Not really sure what he should say, anyway. This changed things, obviously. He just didn’t what it meant, yet. The two of them dressed in silence, awkward and uncomfortable, but somehow Ryan could tell the hostility was gone. He was surprised to realize how much of a relief that was.
Finally, he couldn’t hold off any longer. He took a deep breath and…they spoke at exactly the same moment.
“Listen, Alvarez…”
“So what do you…”
They looked at each other, and Alvarez broke first, a sly grin turning up one side of his mouth. Ryan grinned back, and they both ended up laughing self-consciously.
“Shit.” Ryan tried again. “Listen, Alvarez. You think maybe we could…” he shrugged, unsure of what words to use, “…call a truce?”
There was definite relief in Alvarez’ eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, alright. We could do that.”
“Good.”
“Yeah. Good.”
They stared at each other for a minute longer, then Alvarez shrugged. “Alright then. Later.” He opened the door a crack, making sure the coast was clear, then slipped out, letting the door fall shut behind him.
Glancing around the room, Ryan kicked idly at the mess of mops, buckets and bodily fluids that littered the floor. It was going to take him some time to sort today out in his mind, but one thing seemed fairly clear. He may have lost his favorite distraction, but it looked like he might have managed to pick up a new one.
The End.
Pairing/Character(s): Ryan O'Reily/Miguel Alvarez
Keyword/Prompt Phrase: "We were born to fuck each other/ One way or another." -- Evening on the Ground (Lilith's Song), Iron & Wine
Canon/AU/Either: Either
Special Requests: Smut would be great, but not entirely necessary.
Story/Art/Either: Story preferred.
Title: Distracted
Pairing: Miguel Alvarez/Ryan O’Reily
Rating: NC17
Summary: Ryan searches for distractions, and finds more than he’d expected.
Spoilers: Through Cruel and Unusual Punishments, Season Three, Episode Six
Word Count: 6100 words
Author’s Notes: Many thanks to my recipient for the excellent prompt. Check out the song here: Evening On The Ground (Lilith's Song) Several quotes taken from Unnatural Disasters and U. S. Male - Season Three, Episodes Four and Five, written by Tom Fontana and Bradford Winters. Quick and Dirty Beta by the marvelous Trillingstar on everything but the last scene - any faults you find there you can blame directly on me.
Distracted
Hernandez and his men cut a path across the quad, a beeline straight for the shower room. Ryan grinned. This should be interesting. He checked on Cyril, but he was fine; sitting in the front row of chairs, eyes glued to some stupid sitcom on the TV. Ryan moved to another table, one with a clearer view of the showers where Alvarez stood head down, hands braced on the wall, letting the water pour over his shoulders.
As soon as Hernandez walked in the door, the men at the sinks grabbed their shit and practically ran out of the room, quickly followed by the man at the showerhead next to Alvarez’. Smart move. Hernandez’ heavy frown would make Ryan think twice himself, even with Cyril at his back. He wasn’t surprised. Ryan’d known from the moment he’d seen Alvarez walk through the gates into Em City that Hernandez wasn’t gonna be happy to see him.
There was no doubt in Ryan’s mind that Hernandez ordered Alvarez to blind that hack last summer. That trick had the sick fuck’s stink all over it. He’d been pressuring Alvarez for months at that point, so it was no big surprise the poor bastard had snapped. Ryan didn’t get why Hernandez hated Alvarez so much, but in the end it didn’t matter. He’d wanted Alvarez gone, and he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.
Ryan had been shocked to see Alvarez back. He’d thought the hacks would have thrown away the key after that stunt. But here he was, and it looked like Hernandez was pissed as hell about it. They talked for a while, but it looked like whatever Hernandez was looking for, Alvarez gave him, because Alvarez was still in one piece when they left, much to Guerra’s disgust from the look of things.
Ryan headed back to the TVs, now that his entertainment had turned out a bust. If he was Alvarez, and thank Christ he wasn’t, he wouldn’t turn his back on any of that bunch. Ryan tried to keep his dealings with El Norte to a minimum, that crew was too hotheaded for him. You couldn’t trust a man who let his emotions get in the way of business.
He’d watched them all carefully last summer, when Hernandez had first shown up. Ryan made a habit of keeping a close eye on the movers and shakers in Oz. It had saved his life more than once. Alvarez did a decent job of running the gang, but he’d handed them over to Hernandez without a fight. It made sense, El Cid was a name even Ryan knew, with as little contact as he’d had with the Latinos on the outside. The guy was powerful, and had a reputation you didn’t want to mess with if you knew what was good for you.
He’d made a mistake with Alvarez, though, in Ryan’s opinion, at least. Alvarez was good at what he did; he’d have been a good second in command. He already had the respect of the gang. They knew him and stood by him, so why throw all that away?
Ryan slid into the chair next to Cyril’s, still turning the puzzle over in his mind. Hernandez behaved erratically, and that made him harder to figure out, but some things could be counted on, and his hatred of Alvarez was one of them. Ryan tracked Alvarez’ progress across the quad, dressed in nothing but a white towel. He let out a low whistle as Alvarez stepped into his pod. They had him rooming with Hernandez, Jesus, the bastard might as well just give up now and ask to go back to Solitary. He sure as hell wasn’t gonna last long in Em City.
Alvarez moved like he was on fire, hitting the bag at a punishing pace, his muscles bunching and flexing, his skin slick with sweat. Ryan had never noticed how fast the guy could move before. He’d obviously kept himself in shape while he was in Solitary, but then, what the fuck else was there to do? Alvarez was better off shadow boxing than he was chasing shadows, and that about covered the list of things to do in Solitary. Well, you could always hang yourself, but Alvarez had tried that one already from what Ryan had heard.
Ryan had asked around after Alvarez came back; he was in some program with Sister Pete that had gotten him out of his time in Solitary. Maybe the Sister had him on some happy pills or something. He didn’t look happy at the moment, though. The Latino kid holding the heavy bag for him was obviously struggling to keep his balance. Alvarez was knocking the hell out of it.
He pointed Alvarez out, making sure Cyril studied Alvarez’ style. The bastard was good. Ryan hadn’t been worried about Cyril facing Ricardo since he wasn’t anything special. Too bad he’d ended up in the Hole, ‘cause Alvarez was a threat. He had good moves, and a powerful punch. And he was fast - at least as fast as Cyril. Alvarez was due to take on Kramer in a couple of days. Kramer was good, but Ryan knew Cyril was better; he could take the faggot any day of the week. Alvarez, on the other hand…
Ryan hadn’t planned to interfere with any of the matches that Cyril wasn’t in, but it might be a good idea to get Alvarez out of the way before he got a chance to beat Cyril. If he played his cards right, he could make a few bucks while he was at it. Last he’d heard, the odds were fifty to one in Alvarez’ favor. Ryan smirked at Alvarez’ back as he made a few mental calculations. Oh yeah, his idea had potential.
Ryan scowled down at the tomatoes he was cutting, his butcher knife chopping haphazardly and making a sloppy mess of them, the juices running off the stainless steel table to pool on the floor at his feet. In his mind, it was McManus’ head on the table, and the knife came down extra hard, the tomato splitting in two, half of it flying off the table to hit Pancamo in the stomach, staining his white apron as the tomato stuck to him for a second before plopping to the floor. Shit.
“If you’re through massacring the salad, go help your brother with the trays, we’re down one dishwasher today, and he’s falling behind.”
Ryan looked down at the mess he’d made. “Sorry. Guess I’m a little uptight.”
Pancamo raised one eyebrow. “I noticed. I’ll finish this up, go help your brother.”
“Right.”
Pancamo kept his distance until Ryan set his knife down, and Ryan smirked as he turned away. The man was a survivor; he knew better than to get within stabbing distance of an angry man with a knife.
Chopping the shit out of those tomatoes had helped, though. He felt better than he had since he saw Gloria this morning, on her way to the padre’s office. He’d been setting up trays for the breakfast rush when she’d passed through the cafeteria, and he’d dropped everything on the counter, calling out to her as she walked past. She’d turned toward him, and Ryan thought she might have spoken to him if it weren’t for McManus.
The bastard was at her side in a moment, shouting at Pancamo to keep his crew in line before it was taken away from him. Pancamo had yelled at Ryan and he’d yelled back and McManus had whisked Gloria away before he’d gotten a chance to do more than say her name. Fucking bastard.
Ryan knew she’d forgive him eventually. He knew it. He just wasn’t sure how long he could hold on before he fell apart. He’d tried to set her aside. Tried to forget her. But she always wormed her way back into his mind, no matter what he did. The boxing matches were the best thing to happen to him in a long time. They’d given him something to concentrate on, to keep thoughts of Gloria at bay, stick her in a box in the back of his mind, and lock her away for a while.
Seeing her had set Ryan off again, it always did. He belonged with her, and she belonged to him. She just didn’t realize it yet, but she would, eventually. In the meantime, he had to keep distracting himself, find as many things as he could to concentrate on, things that had nothing to do with her. It made the time without her bearable.
His fingers traced the letters of the tattoo on his forearm. It just didn’t seem right to see Shannon’s name there. They’d been divorced for a while now, but with Shannon’s name on his arm, he didn’t feel free, and he needed to be free for Gloria when she finally came around. That might take a while, though, so he had time to figure out a way to get rid of it. For now, what he needed was to find something else to focus on.
“Miguel, how's it feel to get your ass whipped by a faggot?”
Ryan laughed as Alvarez threatened Wangler for being a smart ass. The really funny thing was that Alvarez could whip Wangler’s ass on a bad day, but getting the shit beat out of him by Kramer the day before had given everyone license to razz the poor bastard.
“What you gonna do, hit me with your purse, motherfucker?”
Ouch.
Wangler was in rare form today.
The hack moved Wangler on, so that was the end of that, but Ryan’s fun wasn’t over yet. He could hear Hernandez harassing Alvarez, even if he couldn’t understand the words he was using. When Alvarez threw his cards at Hernandez, Ryan dropped his own to the table, ready to grab Cyril if need be, and get him out of the danger zone.
He didn’t expect Hernandez to lunge at Alvarez like a crazy man. They were too close for Alvarez to get in a good punch, and Hernandez had the advantage in weight, so the two grappled, locked in a parody of a hug as they each tried to gain the advantage over the other. When that new hack Hughes stepped in with a stun gun, Ryan grabbed Cyril and pulled him away from the action.
A fucking stun gun! What the hell? There was sure to be an investigation into that mess, and Ryan didn’t want Cyril stuck in the middle of that shit. But damn, setting Alvarez up to take a fall to Kramer had turned out to be the most fun he’d had in weeks. He’d been looking for something to distract him from Gloria; fucking with Alvarez just might do the trick.
The Latinos moved slowly up the lunch line, Hernandez and Guerra talking quietly, their heads close together as they nodded in agreement while the rest joked around or talked in rapid-fire Spanish that was way to fast for Ryan’s inexperienced ear to translate. You picked up shit on the streets growing up, but these guys heard that shit from the cradle on, there was no way to eavesdrop on them unless you’d grown up with the language.
Still, you could learn a lot from a guy’s body language, if you kept your eyes open. Hernandez, for instance, was a dangerous fuck. You could tell that from the way he held himself, the way his eyes never stopped moving, scanning the cafeteria even as he spoke. Guerra tried to imitate him, but he was too stupid to get it right. Not that he was someone to mess with, but if Ryan had a choice, he’d tangle with Guerra over Hernandez any day.
Ryan scooped a spoonful of green beans onto the next tray, his eyes wandering down the line. At the rear of the Latino group was Alvarez, his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, his eyes focused on the floor in front of him. Talk about body language, Alvarez might as well have a big sign on his back reading “Hit me, please? I haven’t had nearly enough abuse today.” Ryan almost felt sorry for the bastard. Almost.
By the time Cyril slopped a spoonful of mashed potatoes on Alvarez’ tray, Ryan was over the guy’s “poor me” attitude. What the hell had happened to the cocky son-of-a-bitch that had run El Norte before El Cid showed up? He wanted to slap Alvarez in the face and tell him to grow a spine for fuck’s sake. Alvarez held out his tray without making eye contact but Ryan was determined to make him work for it.
He scooped up a bunch of green beans as if he was going to put them on the tray, but then pulled back at the last second. “Whoa!”
Alvarez sighed and held his tray closer to the pan and Ryan did it again, laughing with the guys behind Alvarez in line as they egged Ryan on. Alvarez sighed and stepped back, as if he was going to move away without green beans, and Ryan lunged forward, slopping them all over the tray, some of them spilling over the edge onto the floor, a few even hitting his shirt before they fell.
It worked. Ryan got a reaction: Alvarez looked up at him, his eyes burning with hate.
“Fuck you, O'Reily.”
Elated at pushing the right button, Ryan laughed in his face. “Oh, I don’t think so, Alvarez. From what I hear, you’re the one that takes it up the ass. Or should I ask Hernandez about that?”
Alvarez dropped his tray on the counter and walked away, the catcalls of his fellow inmates trailing him out of the cafeteria. Ryan went back to dishing up the green beans with new enthusiasm. He hadn’t had this much fun in ages.
Wangler couldn’t keep his laughter in check for long, as soon as McManus walked away he and his buddies burst out laughing, mugging to each other about how sincere they’d acted when they’d heard about the death of Wangler’s wife. Ryan stared at Wangler with disgust. Christ on a crutch. That boy was the worst fucking actor he’d ever seen. Only McManus would fall for that shit. Ryan felt a small bit of satisfaction knowing exactly how clueless that asshole McManus really was.
Ryan ran his fingernails across the tattoo on his arm, the skin under Shannon’s name turning red as he scratched at the letters as if he could scratch the ink right off his arm. He had seen Gloria just that morning, coming out of McManus’ office, but although she’d stared at him for a long moment before McManus hustled her away, she hadn’t even tried to speak to him. It was too early for him to expect her to accept his love, he knew that, but seeing her everywhere he went made it so hard to keep his distance. It was easy to find distractions, but there weren’t that many that could hold his interest long enough to truly keep him entertained.
Speaking of… Ryan stood up, keeping his eyes on the prize, and headed toward the gate where Alvarez was being escorted into Em City. His visit with Sister Pete must have been a rough one judging from the dark, heavy shadows under his red-rimmed eyes. The timing was perfect for fucking with his head some more, and baiting Alvarez was fast becoming Ryan’s favorite pastime. He looked forward to each opportunity to inflict a little damage with more enthusiasm than he’d been able to muster for anything since before he met Gloria.
It looked like he wasn’t gonna have to do a thing, this time. Wangler was sitting at the table closest to Alvarez’ path, and Ryan could see him building up to something, his bright, beady little eyes following Alvarez as he walked closer, a cruel smile on his lips. Alvarez’ eyes were glued to the floor in front of him. He never even noticed Wangler’s foot pop out far enough to catch Alvarez’ ankle as he passed by, sending him sprawling into one of the empty tables. The chairs skidded across the floor as he fell, the table landing on its side with a loud thud.
Wangler and Junior were howling with laughter, giving each other a high five as Poet held his head like it hurt because he’d laughed too hard. Everyone who’d seen it happen laughed and snickered at Alvarez as he slowly picked himself up, his angry eyes focused on Wangler. A couple of the hacks wandered their way, just in case things got out of hand, but they didn’t interfere with the heckling, which was smart. The last thing anyone in Alvarez’ position needed was to be defended by the hacks. He’d never live that shit down.
“Moving slow today, Miguel.” Junior’s voice shook with laughter.
Somebody in the peanut gallery shouted out, “No wonder he lost to that fag Kramer.”
Ryan couldn’t help but throw in his own two cents. “Old lady Reimondo beat the shit out of you again today? You can’t even take on a nun, Alvarez?”
Alvarez transferred his hate-filled glare to Ryan. “Fuck you, O'Reily.” He shouldered his way through the jeering crowd. “Fuck all of you.”
Ryan watched him go, a little disappointed. This would be so much more fun if Alvarez would show a bit of that spirit Ryan had seen back when they’d first landed here in Oz. But that Alvarez would never be in this position in the first place, so he guessed he’d have to take what he could get. He ran the image of Alvarez’ ungainly sprawl across the table through his mind, chuckling to himself. You took your entertainment where you could get it in a crap heap like Oz.
He noticed Beecher and Schillinger’s brat Andrew sitting at a table across the quad, cards forgotten in their hands as they watched the scene curiously. He didn’t like not being at the heart of an operation he was invested so heavily in, so this whole sitting on the sidelines gig while Beecher played his hand was frustrating as hell. Beecher nodded at him, one eyebrow raised. Looks like this might be a good opportunity to squeeze in some prime time spent screwing with little Andy’s mind time.
Good timing. With Alvarez holed up in his pod, and Cyril asleep in theirs, O’Reily could use a new distraction. He plopped down into the seat next to Andrew, clapping him on the shoulder like a true buddy would do.
Rubbing his hands together briskly, he grinned at them. “Deal me in, guys.”
“I still love Gloria and I try to fight it but I can't. She's under my skin, man. She's under my fucking skin.”
Ryan’s breath hitched and he dropped his eyes, focusing on raking the scrub brush across his bleeding skin, doing his best to wipe Shannon out of his life. He had no idea why he’d bared his soul to Said like that. Maybe it was all the shit he’d been hearing about Said and that white chick he was mooning over. He was in the same boat as Ryan, loving a woman that was forbidden to him.
Said stared at him for a moment, then silently walked away. Ryan turned his back, struggling to control his ragged breathing. His arm was a bloody mess, but he could still see Shannon’s name, the dark ink of the tattoo scored into the flesh under the surface. The stiff bristles of the brush he’d stolen from the kitchen stung like a motherfucker as they scraped across the abraded skin, but he intended to keep scrubbing until he’d gotten rid of Shannon. He didn’t have a choice. He needed to be free of the taint of Shannon before he could be ready for Gloria.
What he’d told Said was true. Gloria was under his skin. The tattoo that showed Shannon’s hold on him was only skin deep. Gloria was deep down inside him, and he’d never be free of her, no matter how hard he tried.
“¡Puta madre!”
Ryan looked up. Alvarez stood in the doorway, staring at him like he was some kind of monster or something. His breath hitched as he tried to speak, so Ryan clenched his teeth against the pain, turning his back on Alvarez’ shocked expression.
“What the fuck are you doing, O'Reily?”
He didn’t need this shit right now. He spoke through clenched teeth. “Get the hell away from me, asshole.”
Alvarez laughed and leaned his hip on one of the sinks, making himself comfortable. “No fucking way, man. If you’re dropping off the deep end, I’m gonna be here waving goodbye as they cart you away in a straightjacket. I always knew you were a sick fuck, man. Now I got proof. Oh, hey! Maybe I should invite Wangler in to see this. He’d have a fucking field day over this shit.”
Alvarez’ eyes were bright with laughter, and his grin was wild, almost feral in its ferocity. “This is the best entertainment I’ve had in months!”
Ryan’s hands shook, and the scrub brush slipped out of his grip, dropping into the sink. He braced his hands on the edges, bloody fingers sliding on the cool steel. He pulled in a shaky breath. Okay. It looked like that was all he could handle today. He’d clean it up and see what was left, and try again later if he needed to.
For you, Gloria. This is all for you. He spoke to her in his head; it was nothing that Alvarez deserved to hear. He turned the faucet on, and bracing himself, shoved his arm under the water.
“Oh, fuck!” Ryan curled up on himself, his head bowed over the sink as the cold water sluiced over the torn and damaged skin. His eyes watered with the pain, but he bit his lip, holding his cries inside after that first outburst. When he could breathe again in gasping breaths that felt like they were torn from his lungs - he slowly opened his eyes and began the painful task of cleaning the wound.
He glanced over, expecting to see contempt and ridicule in Alvarez’ eyes, but to Ryan’s surprise, Alvarez was gone. Ryan took a deep breath, and whispered, “Only for you, Gloria.”
Ryan’d had about enough of Miguel Alvarez. Fucking asshole ordering him around, shoving him up against the wall, groping him as he stole all of Ryan’s tits. Assume the position my ass. Fucking prick. He’d been so smug, that lollipop in his mouth, smirking at Ryan as Hernandez shut him down. Ryan wanted to shove that lollipop right down the fucker’s throat, but he’d sat there and taken it, ‘cause he hadn’t had any other choice with Ricardo and Guerra right outside the fucking door watching the whole goddamned thing.
At least he’d gotten his revenge on Hernandez. That motherfucker was gonna spend some quality time contemplating his navel or whatever, while he rotted in the Hole. But Alvarez had slipped the leash. He let the other three take the rap while he slid out the back way, slick as owl shit. Well, he was on his own now. Without Hernandez and Guerra to call the shots, the Latinos were gonna run wild. They wouldn’t listen to a word Alvarez said at this point, his rep was in the gutter. With no one watching Alvarez’ back, Ryan was free to get in some well-deserved payback.
He was almost tempted to take the bastard on himself, but he was smarter than that. Alvarez was quick and had one hell of a right hook, and Ryan was no boxer. There was no way he’d come out the winner in that kind of a fight, but that was okay, because when Alvarez was lying in the Infirmary, Ryan would make sure he knew that he’d been set up. Ryan would get his revenge and it would be all the sweeter because it would come from Alvarez’ own hermanos.
He knocked sharply on the storage room door. Vasquez had agreed to meet him here, and he was gonna be pissed as hell to find out that Alvarez had set up Hernandez, Guerra and Ricardo in a bid to take back El Norte. All Ryan would have to do was sit back and watch the fur fly. Piece of cake.
The door cracked opened and with one last glance around, Ryan slid inside. The door closed behind him and Ryan turned and slammed right into Alvarez’ fist. He fell, sprawled across the hard concrete floor, scrabbling for the rolling bucket he’d tripped over, trying to push it into Alvarez’ path as he aimed a kick in Ryan’s direction. Ryan wasn’t quick enough to block the kick, but the bucket threw off Alvarez’ aim, and his foot smashed into Ryan’s stomach instead of his ribs. Crab walking backwards until he hit the wall, Ryan pulled up his legs in an effort to protect his ribs, gasping for breath as he tried to recover from Alvarez’ kick.
Alvarez shoved the bucket out of his way, and it banged into the wall, knocking a stack of mops and brooms to the floor between them. Ryan grabbed one of them, sending the broom around in an arc, trying to knock Alvarez’ legs out from under him, but the bastard was light on his feet, skipping back out of the way. He laughed at Ryan, a dangerous gleam shining in his eyes.
“C’mon, motherfucker. Get up. Think you’re man enough to take me on? Can’t get someone else to do your dirty work for you this time, you bastard. Get up!” He kicked the tangle of mops and brooms savagely, and they rattled noisily as they scattered across the small space.
Ryan used his broom like a crutch and pushed himself to his feet, still struggling for breath. His jaw ached like hell, but his stomach hurt worse, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Ryan knew he was scrappy, and he could fight pretty good for a skinny guy, but Alvarez was tough and fast and Ryan was in deep shit. Was it just earlier this week Ryan had been hoping to see a glimpse of the old Alvarez’ spark? He laughed to himself. Be careful what you wish for was damn right.
That goddamned Vasquez has set him up. He’d been counting on the Latinos to be willing to betray each other, but he hadn’t expected them to turn on him. Stupid mistake, O’Reily. Stupid mistake. He took as deep a breath as he could and put his one and only advantage to work for him.
“Look, Alvarez…”
“No.” Alvarez shook his head, slowly advancing on Ryan’s position against the wall. “No fucking way are you gonna talk yourself out of this one. You’ve been riding my ass since I got out of solitary. Why the hell you wanna fuck with me, huh? What the hell did I do to you?”
“I got nothing against you, Alvarez, honest. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, man.”
Alvarez’ laugh was high-pitched and manic, and Ryan swallowed, trying to find the words that could turn this around. Words were his only weapon, but he wasn’t sure Alvarez was thinking clearly enough to focus on them, and that could mean real trouble. Ryan started talking as fast as he could, ‘cause Alvarez was stalking him, moving around the mops and brooms scattered on the floor and closing in, his wild grin getting wider and more freaky with every step.
“Vasquez is trying to get you to kill me, ‘cause if you’re back in solitary he’ll be free to take over El Norte while Hernandez and his crew are in the Hole…”
With one last lunge, Alvarez was on him, knocking the broom handle out of his hands and slamming him back into the wall. Ryan saw stars when his head bounced off the cinderblocks, and by the time his vision cleared Alvarez was there, mere inches from his face, grinning with a manic glee that struck Ryan dumb. He was pushed up against Ryan, knees to chest, and Ryan gasped at the heat of Alvarez’ body pressed tight against his own.
Alvarez’ hand slapped over Ryan’s mouth as he drew breath to speak. “No more words. I know you. You use words like I use my fists.” Alvarez’ hot breath against his cheek made him shudder involuntarily, and Alvarez laughed, his low voice murmuring. “You like that? Huh? You like it when I whisper in your ear?”
Ryan tried to break free, but Alvarez held him firmly, pushing him back into the wall. He thrust their hips together and Ryan moan against the palm of Alvarez’ hand when his sharp hip bone pressed up against Ryan’s cock. Holy motherfucking shit! He could feel Alvarez’ cock against his thigh, rubbing back and forth and Ryan felt himself harden with the pressure and the friction and oh my fucking god but that felt good.
Ryan moaned again and Alvarez finally pulled his hand away, but before Ryan could say anything, Alvarez’ tongue was in his mouth and he had no choice but to suck on it, fighting with it, pushing against it to force his way into Alvarez’ mouth, where their tongues tangled and fought. His mind kept telling him this wasn’t fucking happening but Ryan knew better.
This was the hottest thing he could remember happening to him since that crazy ass Puerto Rican chick he’d picked up at a bar one night had rimmed his ass and made him come so fast he’d embarrassed himself. He’d fucked her up the ass later that night, and she’d nearly busted his eardrums when she came, screaming his name. Jesus, that had been one seriously wicked fuck. Must be that whole Latin lover thing, ‘cause Alvarez was driving him out of his mind.
His hands squeezed Ryan’s ass rhythmically, pulling their cocks tighter together as they swayed with the force of Alvarez’ hips thrusting their cocks into each other. He needed more, though, so he shoved Alvarez away, and he staggered back a step
“What? Don’t tell me you don’t want this man, ‘cause I know you do.”
Ryan shook his head. “No, wait.” He scrabbled with his fly, his clumsy hands shaking as he pulled down the zip. “I need more.”
Alvarez finally got it, and fought with Ryan’s hands to get the fucking button undone and Alvarez’ pants unzipped. He pushed his pants and his boxers down low on his hips and Ryan reached out before he lost his nerve and grabbed Alvarez’ cock, using it like a leash to pull him closer as Alvarez gasped at the pressure of Ryan’s fingers wrapped tight around him. Ryan’s pants slid down his legs and Alvarez wrapped his hands around both their cocks.
“Fuck!” Ryan had never felt anything like this before. Their cocks slid against each other, their precome slicking their fingers as they held on tight. The sensation was incredible, and he tilted his hips forward, shoving his cock against Alvarez’ and crying out every time Alvarez squeezed the heads together.
Alvarez leaned in close, whispering in his ear again; filthy words in a crazy mix of English and Spanish, about how he wanted to fuck Ryan and how tight he’d be and how good he could make Ryan feel. His rational mind was screaming ‘there’s no way that monster is coming any where near my ass’ but Ryan shoved that back into a corner of his mind and told himself he’d deal with that later, when Alvarez’ hands weren’t so tight around his cock that he thought he might lose his mind.
Alvarez’ had him pressed up against the wall so tight that his feet were barely touching the ground, so he kicked one foot out of his pants and wrapped his leg around Alvarez’ waist. That changed the angle of their thrusts, and they both cried out at the way it pushed their cocks against each other. Alvarez grabbed Ryan’s thigh with one hand, shifting him even higher which freed up Ryan to wrap his other leg around and he locked his ankles behind Alvarez’ back and hung on for the ride.
Alvarez was a fucking wild man, rocking and thrusting and rolling his hips, his muscles bunched tight under Ryan’s hands. His orgasm broke over him unexpectedly when Alvarez bit his shoulder, digging his teeth in until they broke the skin. He muffled his shouts in Alvarez’ neck, his hips jerking wildly, hands wrapped tight around his shoulders. Alvarez jerked his hips three, four more times before freezing, gasping into Ryan’s ear.
Slowly, they slid down the wall, falling into a jumbled heap on the cold cement floor. After several minutes Ryan managed to gather enough working brain cells together to speak.
“Oh, my fucking god.”
Alvarez laughed from his position flat on his back, one hand waving vaguely in the air. “What you said, man.”
“Christ on a fucking crutch.” Ryan raised his head far enough to glance down at his stomach and groin, which were smeared with come, his soft cock lying limply across one still trembling thigh. “I don’t think I ever came that hard in my entire life.”
“Yeah.” Alvarez agreed. “That was…” Words seemed to fail him, so Ryan stepped in with his own.
“Intense.”
Alvarez chuckled. “That works.”
Ryan struggled to sit up, untangling his legs from Alvarez’, and pulling his pants out from under both of their asses. Alvarez sighed and pulled himself up onto his elbows, watching Ryan warily as he struggled to his feet and grabbed a rag off the sink, wetting it down and wiping himself off. He looked surprised when Ryan threw the rag in Alvarez’ direction when he was through with it, letting it plop wetly onto his chest.
“Thanks.”
Ryan shrugged, not willing to say anything at the moment. Not really sure what he should say, anyway. This changed things, obviously. He just didn’t what it meant, yet. The two of them dressed in silence, awkward and uncomfortable, but somehow Ryan could tell the hostility was gone. He was surprised to realize how much of a relief that was.
Finally, he couldn’t hold off any longer. He took a deep breath and…they spoke at exactly the same moment.
“Listen, Alvarez…”
“So what do you…”
They looked at each other, and Alvarez broke first, a sly grin turning up one side of his mouth. Ryan grinned back, and they both ended up laughing self-consciously.
“Shit.” Ryan tried again. “Listen, Alvarez. You think maybe we could…” he shrugged, unsure of what words to use, “…call a truce?”
There was definite relief in Alvarez’ eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, alright. We could do that.”
“Good.”
“Yeah. Good.”
They stared at each other for a minute longer, then Alvarez shrugged. “Alright then. Later.” He opened the door a crack, making sure the coast was clear, then slipped out, letting the door fall shut behind him.
Glancing around the room, Ryan kicked idly at the mess of mops, buckets and bodily fluids that littered the floor. It was going to take him some time to sort today out in his mind, but one thing seemed fairly clear. He may have lost his favorite distraction, but it looked like he might have managed to pick up a new one.
The End.