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Many thanks to Ahavia for the beta.


by sistersleep

Another endless night in the cold emptiness of Em City.

Ryan O'Reily stayed up, quiet under the itchy prison issued blanket, lack of movement not betraying the activity going on inside his head. His mind frantically going over well worn paths. Endless replaying loops. Sleep deprived. Each night now spent reviewing and perfecting plans he did not act on, could not go through with in the artificial light of day.

All of him was on edge, partially waiting for the day the bunk below him would no longer be empty. Needing the distraction, the comfort. Cyril was coming back. That's all that should have mattered. The only thing he should be thinking of. But the soaring joy in his heart at the return of his brother was muted. Like every scrap of happiness he managed to hold on to in here was muted. Dulled to the point of bleakness by circumstance. Cyril would be back by his side, for life. For life in this shithole. Freedom stolen by Ryan's selfishness. And there was still the chance of them being separated, of Cyril being taken away at the slightest misstep. McManus hadn't wanted him back at all. That asshole would hold a grudge for as long as he reigned over his precious kingdom.

But all that was shit that Ryan could sleep with; he'd grown used to far worse. There was always something in here challenging him, keeping him on his toes, forever moving and scheming. But now there was something new. Something that made him dread the night locked away in safety, the only rest he got from the game.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since his world seemed to come crashing down on him in a cramped storage room. Too many nights of waking up from dreams that gnawed at him, giving him no rest. Dreams that threw him out of sleep covered in sweat and left him longing, aching. Dreams of drowning, of mouths, hands, bodies sliding. Dreams of Miguel Alvarez.

They kept him up till morning, far from sleep. At odds with himself, trying to resist the truth. Resist the fact that they weren't nightmares. They were the only time he felt anything. He stayed up every night trying to deny himself. Deny the part of him that wanted nothing more than to give in to the fever in his brain, waiting all day to slip back into the dark and give himself over to it. Fear and desire at war. He was frayed to his last thread and something had to give.

He could have had Miguel removed from the equation altogether. It would be so simple. He'd spent part of the time he was lying in bed awake every night devising ways to do it. The guy was a loner, still separate from the Latinos. The truce they'd formed could be easily shattered. And even with all the shit Alvarez had done, all he had survived, he was still seen as weak. Not vulnerable enough to risk touching without reason, but not untouchable. And prison always lacked friends but was full of potential enemies.

Still, day after day passed and Ryan set none of his plans in motion, did nothing but watch the man. Because the rest of those sleepless nights were spent thinking of other things. Thoughts of giving in. Giving in to what he really wanted, losing himself in what he felt before. The desire to feel...something. Warm, visceral and human.

He wanted another man. Wanted to taste him, touch him, fuck him. Wanted those hands on him, taking. Needed to get under his skin. He had found something in Miguel that had given him relief, eased a lonely ache. Something that he'd refused to consider, but that wouldn't hide now. It refused to be ignored and pushed away any longer. The realization had sent him reeling. Knocked him off balance and he couldn't regain his footing.

He'd watched Alvarez for the slightest clue as to what to do. Searching for a reason to do... anything. Touch him, scream at him, arrange his death. Anything. Ryan was looking for direction. For an excuse. But he couldn't figure out what the Latino was playing at.

In the hours right after their encounter, Ryan had thought he'd fucked everything up, that Alvarez had been fucking with him, or the whackjob had just finally lost the last of his marbles.

Until he'd heard from the lawyer.

Big break, reliable witness. Miguel had said everything Ryan had wanted him to and apparently pulled his crazy ass together enough to be oh so convincing. Without the record of lying that Shupe had, and a story about wanting to clean up his act and become a productive citizen behind his need to come clean on what he'd seen, even McManus had fucking believed Miguel and vouched for his truthfulness. Wasn't it the bald cumstain himself who'd been crying out for Cyril's head on a stick? It was obvious who McManus's new redemption project was. Zelman had even said something about Alvarez's sincerity and big sad eyes really selling it.

This was fantastic news for Cyril, and exactly what Ryan had wanted. But now he had no fucking clue what the loco Latino was up to. Would he be coming to collect or had a little voice in his fucked up head distracted him with a shiny object? He hadn't made a fucking move, was even going out of his way to avoid Ryan.

As much as Ryan tried to deny it, lurking there under his confusion, fear, and anger was the fact that Ryan was waiting. Half-hoping Miguel would come to finish what he'd started. It scared the shit out of him, but he couldn't shake the feelings thrumming in his veins. It was fire living in between the cold stone.

Something had to be done. Now. He had to get Alvarez out from underneath his skin. This had to end before his brother got back. He could arrange it tomorrow. So simple, and the hardest thing he'd ever done.


Alvarez had been on edge for two weeks. Waiting. Carrying a shank whenever he could. Fuck endangering his parole, the only way he'd be getting out if he was dead was in a wooden box.

He'd been waiting for an attack that hadn't come. There was no way O'Reily would just let this go. Some gesture of goodwill, amnesty for testifying anyway in the end? No fucking way. Just as he started to think Ryan really was going to let it go, being so grateful for the return of his brother, the expected finally happened. It seemed like O'Reily was making his move. Himself. Not the anticipated deluded pawn coming out of nowhere, but a meet between just the two of them.

It was another fucking storage room, off the hallway to the gym this time. Away from the hospital ward, from Em City, away from everything but one or two guards who would be paid not to notice that the inmates who signed up for gym time never actually made it there. Privacy. It was a huge warning sign that Alvarez couldn't ignore, but he had no choice but to go. He was tired of watching his back and jumping at shadows; he'd thought all that had ended before.

He had to take the blow again. He owed.

Bracing himself for whatever may come, he entered the dingy little room. More gray walls and rusted metal shelves. There was Ryan, leaning against the wall. It was an unintentional mimic of how Alvarez had left him before, causing a little flip of Miguel's stomach, pulse speeding up as he remembered. Guilt warred with buried hunger, as it had since that day, keeping Miguel in a deadlock, unable to approach and deal with it.

He'd just hung back, avoided Ryan as much as possible, while still being drawn to him. He'd restrained himself to just observing, assessing the damage he'd done, focusing on his guilt and pain to push out the itch under his skin. Looking for a way to help, to make things up, to end it. Any way. And now, Ryan had called him out.

Here they were, just where they'd left off.

Ryan was carefully collected, cool and calm, face a blank mask giving Miguel no signs of how he was going to play this, what he was going to do. "I want this over with." It was an ambiguous statement, but Ryan wasn't making a move so it looked like death wasn't his intended solution.

Miguel eased up a little, held up his hands slightly in a gesture of peace, and gave a slight nod to show he was listening. Even as he stayed ready to react to any movement.

"Time to collect your payment." Another simple statement, but it carried a weight, an edge. And with that, Ryan's mask slipped, just a little, eyes sparking with intense emotion.

"You don't owe me shit. It's over, you hear me?" Miguel said with quiet sincerity. He needed Ryan to see the truth, to see that there was no anger, no intent. Needed Ryan to believe him. "We're done."

But that was not what Ryan wanted to hear, it seemed.

"Take it." It was an order. Ryan was striving to keep his voice hard and even, but slithering deep underneath was a pleading tone. And it shocked the hell out of Miguel.

This wasn't about business anymore. Thrown off guard completely, Miguel tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

That edge in Ryan's eyes, in his words, was -- desire.


"You *want* me to?!?"

Miguel stalked forward carefully, watching Ryan's eyes. He grew more apprehensive the more he saw. Miguel came to a stop half an inch from touching the Irishman. Lips separated by less than a breath. Miguel's body keeping Ryan's pressed back against the wall. Familiar position that their bodies couldn't forget.

"You want this?" So close that the slight movement almost turned speech into a kiss. Every breath almost a touch. If one of them would only give in to it.

Ryan stayed silent, body practically vibrating with tension and restraint.

"Ask me." It wasn't a harsh demand, Miguel's voice too quiet as he still reeled a little.

"No." Ryan was fighting himself, voice straining to be firm, to sound like the truth.

Miguel might've believed it, Ryan was a very skilled liar. He wanted it to be true. They both did. It would have been easier. But nothing in either man's life was easy.

As Ryan stood before him, trying to convince himself of the lie, Miguel knew he should just try to turn away. But he was not blind -- Ryan's eyes gave everything away, stripping his desire naked for Miguel to see and he couldn't bring himself to look away.

"You want me to make you, hermano? Force you?"

Miguel saw it. A tiny flicker, there one second, gone the next. Relief.


And people said he was crazy. The shit going on in Ryan's head was frightening. This was so fucked up. Ryan wanted him.

He wanted Miguel to force him, because he couldn't give in himself.

Miguel slammed Ryan against the wall, hands gripping with bruising strength, crushing his mouth in a kiss of sudden violence. Biting, demanding entrance into Ryan's mouth.

Ryan just... gave in. No struggle, no resistance, not even a trace of a fight. Every lick, every tremor, signifying his willingness. The hunger Miguel had seen in Ryan's eyes slammed into them. Felt it, undeniable. All the confirmation he needed was in the way Ryan's body pressed into his.

It took all of Miguel's willpower to pull away, back up a step and stop touching the man before him, but he couldn't let it go that way. "Not gonna happen."

Miguel wanted this. Something that made him feel shit other than pain and loneliness and unending claustrophobia. He didn't know or care why, just following the pounding of his blood. It had been so fucking long since he'd felt the heat of connection. Mixed up in his feelings of shock and guilt for what had happened was a fire matching Ryan's.

But he couldn't do it Ryan's way. Wouldn't take it just because he could. Just because he knew Ryan would let him, that Ryan wanted it just as much as he did. He needed explicit permission.

And if Miguel gave in...Ryan had to voice his desire too, to give in with him.

"Whatever you want." Miguel emphasized the last word, unconsciously echoing Ryan's words from before back to him. He wasn't going to help Ryan's denial. Ryan needed this just like Miguel suddenly did. If he would just fucking admit it. Had to get him to just let go.

Miguel leaned back in, teasing, and ran his mouth slowly across Ryan's jaw, continuing down the side of his neck. Not kissing him, barely a touch at all, just a gliding of slightly parted lips against shivering skin, moist breath punctuating his path. Making it clear he was offering, not taking.

"Say it." Soft hint of a plea exhaled into the juncture of neck and shoulder. He would not get lost in this alone.

Miguel could feel Ryan's breath over his skin, gusting out quick and hard. His lips rested right above Ryan's fluttering pulse, waiting for him to give in. Hard headed fucker was going to give one of them a stroke if he didn't do something, anything soon.

Needed more. Couldn't stop.

Miguel ran his hands lightly down Ryan's chest. One hand stopping to hover ghostlike over Ryan's zipper, just barely grazing the hardness behind it. This was as far as he would go without word from Ryan.

"Yes." Ryan's voice ragged, dragged out, the sound of breaking.

Yes. The painful admission was rewarded with a meeting of tongues, bodies. He'd missed that mouth, those hands, pulling him, digging into his back.

Slight shock at how fucking easy it was to pick up right where they'd left off. More urgent. He'd been without this for two weeks, not even realizing how much he'd fucking missed it until he'd gotten close. It had been lingering in his blood, unfulfilled.

They slid right back into the rhythm without a hitch. Desperate sucking kisses, hands moving roughly over heated bodies.

Miguel needed more access to that flushed pale skin. Ryan let out a groan of protest as Miguel pulled away briefly, just long enough to yank off his own shirt.

His hands slipping to tug impatiently on the hem of Ryan's shirt. "Off. Now."

Ryan quickly followed and they fell back together, flesh to flesh. Brush of hard nipples causing a moan to pass from one mouth to the other.

Miguel had been hard since he'd gotten close enough to feel the remembered heat of Ryan's body.

Ryan's hips bucked up into his, seeking friction, wanting release from the slow burn that had built during their separation. Miguel broke the kiss, panting. "Shiiit."

His hand slid down to Ryan's hip, rubbing, fingers dipping below Ryan's waistband, grazing hot, sweat-slick flesh. Ryan's eyes locked with his, the heat of Ryan's gaze burning down his spine.

"More." Ryan's voice was low and rough, desperation turning Miguel on even more.

Miguel couldn't help but give him what he wanted. Undoing Ryan's fly in a flash, hand inside boxers finally touching. Hot hard flesh, slick with pre-cum. Strange to feel a dick that wasn't his, but even that couldn't stop him. Another uneven instinctual thrust from Ryan wiped everything but this from his mind.

"Fuck yes." Ryan's words were drawn out, turning into a low moan that Miguel echoed.

Miguel needed to taste Ryan's mouth again, sucking that tongue into his own mouth, as his hand massaged Ryan.

Ryan pulled back to pin his gaze again. "More." Quieter this time, a desperate whisper.

Before Miguel could figure out what he wanted, Ryan showed him. The Irishman's hands made quick work of his pants, freeing Miguel's own hardness before pulling them together, a slick slide that had them both gasping.

A few quick thrusts against each other, awkward, sliding away and not enough. Needed to be closer. Now

He held his palm up to Ryan's mouth. "Lick." Gravely order issued without thought. Not even a second of hesitation before Ryan's tongue rasped over his palm in a sudden wet hot tickle.

Miguel quickly pressed their cocks together, wrapping his saliva slick hand around them both. First awkward strokes easily finding a rhythm. Pure sensation of rough palm and cocks rubbing, encompassing them. Unbelievable fucking rush. So easy to get lost in it.

Ryan's arm wrapped around Miguel's shoulders, crushing them together, holding on, burying his face in the crook of Miguel's neck. Mouth sucking over his skin, tongue flicking, teeth dropping sharp little bites, mixed with an exhalation of words.

"Yes... yess... Fuck yes." Over and over, barely heard.

Both of their voices took up the fractured gasps.

Ryan's hand suddenly joined his, unexpected. Fingers brushing and tangling as they stroked faster. Together. Both breathing so hard, everything sped up and desperate. Miguel's little grunts mixing with Ryan's growled words. Almost there.

Miguel bent his head toward Ryan's chest, rough little lick to a nipple followed by a quick bite that had Ryan bucking up hard into their hands, while making a sound that was almost a growl. So fucking hot. Ryan's blunt nails scraping up his ribs, too sharp to be anywhere near ticklish. Neither caring about marks, there was nothing but this rush singing in their blood, sparking across their skin. Faster, losing the rhythm altogether, just thrusting up and against each other closer and closer.

Until Ryan froze, nails digging into Miguel's hip, head falling back as he spurted hot onto their bare stomachs. Dark low moan torn from his throat, the sound and sudden tightening of Ryan's hand on his dick caused Miguel's release to follow quickly, with one last shuddering thrust.

Their bodies stayed pressed together, breath coming out in short gasps, hands dropping but staying close. Limbs grasping strong shoulders, not wanting to move away, not yet. Wanting to draw out the moment of relief as long as possible. Reality would come back into focus and the consequences would have to be dealt with. But not yet, for now there was just this, the two of them sharing space, sharing breath, sharing respite.


The End


"go ahead put my

back against the wall

give it all up

or don't give it to me

at all" -ani difranco
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