And yet more Oz fic
Oct. 31st, 2006 09:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
history_gurlI wrote this as a companion piece to my last Five Ways story. This one is from Keller's perspective.
Title: Five Lessons Keller Learned from Vern in Lardner
Author: hg
Pairing: Schillinger/Keller
Author's notes: Big thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cmk418 yet again for comments, suggests, and the tracking down of stray plurals. Thanks also to luci_2 for the original prompt, and to ralu_1982 for her comments that made me think about Vern and Chris some more.
Five Memories Keller has of Vern in Lardner
Sight
Chris knew that Schillinger wanted to fuck him. He knew as soon as the Aryans pulled that big black guy away and beat the shit out of him. He could see it. It was like that Chinese proverb thing; I saved your ass, so now I own it. Okay, maybe not exactly like the proverb, but fucking close enough. And when Schillinger started talking about debts, and payback, and deals where everybody wins, Chris saw his chance and he took it. Safety for sex, anybody could see it was a good deal.
Smell
Vern always liked to smell clean, like soap and that shit you put in the dryer with your clothes. He always talked about hygiene and purity. Chris couldn't spell hygiene back then, and the only time he thought about purity was when he wondered how many times the cocaine had been stepped on before he snorted it up his nose. But he knew that being clean was important to Vern.
Vern never smelled clean when he fucked Chris. Then he smelled like sex, all come and sweat, and maybe the sharp scent of blood if he'd had a bad day. It didn't take Chris long to realize that he could make sex more important than just about anything.
Touch
Touch was something you missed in prison. Not that Chris was big on touching and shit, but he missed having some chick pressed up against him in the back seat of her dad's car with his hand down her shirt. There weren't a lot of soft things to touch in Lardner.
Vern liked touching, but he touched hard. He'd grab Chris by the hair when they were fucking, like he needed to remind them who owned who. One time, he'd left bruises on Chris' arm dragging him back to their cell after some biker had asked Chris for a blow job. Nope, there was nothing soft about old Vern. But Chris thought maybe soft could get you what you wanted without all the other shit. Maybe if you tried soft, they'd give it up and you wouldn't have to take it.
Taste
Keller never forgot the first time he swallowed. Vern wasn't the first guy he blew, not even close. Chris was fourteen when he figured out that he could do what he had to do, if it meant surviving. Blowing guys who were bigger than you, or tougher than you, or just more fucked up than you, that was just another way to survive, and Chris was all about surviving. But surviving didn't mean swallowing, no fucking way. Until Vern, that was.
Keller remembered that first time, Vern's hands on his neck, the way they didn't let him pull away. Vern just kept shoving it down his throat until he had to swallow. No way Chris could lean away, spit, and say, "We're good, yeah?" There was just pressure in his throat, and that pain in his jaw, and then the taste, like yeast, or bread dough, or something, and then swallowing as fast as could. Chris vowed that night that one day he'd be the one with his hands on somebody else's neck.
Sound
Vern was released from Lardner before Chris. He glad-handed all his Aryan buddies, glared at the blacks, then walked over to Chris.
"Take care of yourself, kid. If you get into a jam, my boys'll help you out." Chris nodded as Vern leaned in. "And don't forget, you owe me."
Vern grabbed his shit and walked away with a hack while Chris heard those words echo through the cell. That was it, then, all that sex didn't buy you much. Chris knew now that he'd have to keep paying. Feeling his smile harden, Chris watched as Vern sauntered out of the cell block.
"Don't worry, old man, I won't forget."
Title: Five Lessons Keller Learned from Vern in Lardner
Author: hg
Pairing: Schillinger/Keller
Author's notes: Big thanks to
cmk418 yet again for comments, suggests, and the tracking down of stray plurals. Thanks also to luci_2 for the original prompt, and to ralu_1982 for her comments that made me think about Vern and Chris some more.Five Memories Keller has of Vern in Lardner
Sight
Chris knew that Schillinger wanted to fuck him. He knew as soon as the Aryans pulled that big black guy away and beat the shit out of him. He could see it. It was like that Chinese proverb thing; I saved your ass, so now I own it. Okay, maybe not exactly like the proverb, but fucking close enough. And when Schillinger started talking about debts, and payback, and deals where everybody wins, Chris saw his chance and he took it. Safety for sex, anybody could see it was a good deal.
Smell
Vern always liked to smell clean, like soap and that shit you put in the dryer with your clothes. He always talked about hygiene and purity. Chris couldn't spell hygiene back then, and the only time he thought about purity was when he wondered how many times the cocaine had been stepped on before he snorted it up his nose. But he knew that being clean was important to Vern.
Vern never smelled clean when he fucked Chris. Then he smelled like sex, all come and sweat, and maybe the sharp scent of blood if he'd had a bad day. It didn't take Chris long to realize that he could make sex more important than just about anything.
Touch
Touch was something you missed in prison. Not that Chris was big on touching and shit, but he missed having some chick pressed up against him in the back seat of her dad's car with his hand down her shirt. There weren't a lot of soft things to touch in Lardner.
Vern liked touching, but he touched hard. He'd grab Chris by the hair when they were fucking, like he needed to remind them who owned who. One time, he'd left bruises on Chris' arm dragging him back to their cell after some biker had asked Chris for a blow job. Nope, there was nothing soft about old Vern. But Chris thought maybe soft could get you what you wanted without all the other shit. Maybe if you tried soft, they'd give it up and you wouldn't have to take it.
Taste
Keller never forgot the first time he swallowed. Vern wasn't the first guy he blew, not even close. Chris was fourteen when he figured out that he could do what he had to do, if it meant surviving. Blowing guys who were bigger than you, or tougher than you, or just more fucked up than you, that was just another way to survive, and Chris was all about surviving. But surviving didn't mean swallowing, no fucking way. Until Vern, that was.
Keller remembered that first time, Vern's hands on his neck, the way they didn't let him pull away. Vern just kept shoving it down his throat until he had to swallow. No way Chris could lean away, spit, and say, "We're good, yeah?" There was just pressure in his throat, and that pain in his jaw, and then the taste, like yeast, or bread dough, or something, and then swallowing as fast as could. Chris vowed that night that one day he'd be the one with his hands on somebody else's neck.
Sound
Vern was released from Lardner before Chris. He glad-handed all his Aryan buddies, glared at the blacks, then walked over to Chris.
"Take care of yourself, kid. If you get into a jam, my boys'll help you out." Chris nodded as Vern leaned in. "And don't forget, you owe me."
Vern grabbed his shit and walked away with a hack while Chris heard those words echo through the cell. That was it, then, all that sex didn't buy you much. Chris knew now that he'd have to keep paying. Feeling his smile harden, Chris watched as Vern sauntered out of the cell block.
"Don't worry, old man, I won't forget."
