TITLE: On the Outside: Combustion

Author Name: Jacki (kbfan)

Feedback: Always appreciated, on list or privately.

Status: New, part of the On the Outside Series

Archive: Yes, please do. C5, TS...anyone else interested please email me

Rating: R

Pairing: Beecher/Keller, is there anyone else?

Category: AU, slash, first time, angst

Warnings: mild violence

Summary: Takes place when Toby and Chris are in their mid-20's. Toby's still in law school, and has never been an alcoholic.

Disclaimer: See Part 1

Rating: R

Notes: I must thank my fic fairy, Calysta, for inspiration and a beta. Without her I don't know if I would have ever gotten the nerve to write in the OZ fandom. I just want to thank anyone I might have missed who sent me feedback on Part 1...it was greatly appreciated, thanks for taking the time to let me know what you thought.

Story Notes: This chapter picks up a month after Part 1...for purposes that will be a part of chapter 3...the day is a Friday in November. One other little tidbit...there is a dream involving a
talk show hosted by none other than Gordon Elliott...the beloved host of "Up Your Ante" in canon (and a little homage on my own part, because I remember when Gordon Elliott actually had his own talk show...does that mean I'm old, or I watch too much daytime TV?) So...I guess that's about all I have to say today...on with the story...

On the Outside: Combustion
by Jacki

A Month Later

Toby slammed the car door; he twisted the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. He pushed the heater control up, warm air blasted out of the vents as he held his hands up to warm them. Toby glanced across the street at the bright neon sign, the Candle Bar's logo splashing the sidewalk before it with filtered light.

`Goddammit,' he thought as his mind replayed yet another botched attempt.

Toby had taken Chris's advice, doing some research and finding a couple bars where he might be able to explore his curiosity. Tonight he had opted for Candle Bar, the city's free gay publication listed it as a "very cruisy bar with a local clientele." Toby had thought that sounded better than the place he had tried last week, a club filled with drag queens and transvestites. His night had started out on a good note, he entered the dimly lit bar; the atmosphere was relaxed, comfortable, Toby didn't feel any pressure. He moved toward the shining mahogany bar and gave his order to the very attractive man on the other side. The bartender delivered his drink and Toby handed the man his money.

"Keep the change," he said.

The bartender winked, "Thanks."

`All right, this isn't too bad...there are some very good-looking men here.' Another voice in his head piped up, `But not Chris.' Toby shook his head, pushing the thoughts of Chris away.

After a few minutes a man came up beside him, sliding onto the stool to his left. Toby could feel the other man's eyes sliding over his body, obviously scrutinizing every inch of him. It made him a little uncomfortable, being the object of such intense inspection. Toby feigned confidence as he returned the man's gaze, just as intently.

"Hi, I'm Ronnie," the other man slid his hand in Toby's direction.

"Toby," he replied, his hand enveloped in Ronnie's strong grip.

"Come here often?" Ronnie asked, his smile revealing perfectly white teeth.

Toby smirked, `Jesus, you'd think, gay or straight, men could come up with more original lines.' His voice, however, answered, "No, first time. You?"

"Every once in awhile." Ronnie again sent his 100 watt smile in Toby's direction.

For awhile the two men sat there sipping their drinks, engaging in innocuous small talk. Sometime in the middle of their discussion of the unusual weather they had been having in New York, Toby felt Ronnie's hand slid along his thigh. A little tremor ran through his body with the contact. Before Toby knew what was happening, Ronnie had taken his hand, leading him back towards the rear of the bar.

Ronnie pulled Toby into a shadowy corner, pressing his warm body against him. Closing his eyes, Toby tried to stay calm as he felt Ronnie's hands running gently along his cheek. Ronnie pressed his lips against Toby's, his tongue teasing the flesh. Toby allowed his lips to part, giving Ronnie access to the warmth of his mouth.

Behind Toby's still shuttered eyes flashes of Chris's face assailed him. He imagined that the tongue plundering him belonged to Chris, that Chris was the one who was so tenderly ravaging him.

Ronnie pulled away briefly, Toby slid his arms around the other man's neck. "Chris, don't go," he whispered.

Toby felt the other's man's hands firmly push him away. "What..." he mumbled, opening his eyes.

The clear blue of Ronnie's eyes flashed with anger. "Who the fuck is Chris?"

"Oh God," Toby floundered. "Oh God. Shit, I'm sorry. I've got to get out of here." Toby walked as quickly as possible toward the exit, stifling the urge to run.

And now, here he was, sitting alone in his car. `Fuck, why can't I get him out of my mind!'

Toby banged his fists against the steering wheel, putting the car into gear he pulled away from the curb. Toby drove without thinking, his subconscious directing him as he navigated the streets.

Toby had never even considered an involvement with a man until he met Chris, and from his experiences with the man he was sure that he would never have chosen someone like Chris if he had. Toby had never thought about other men like that, he had always been attracted to women. And women had always been attracted to him, not that he had spent much time in relationships. However, for some reason he could not comprehend, just being in close proximity to Chris Keller made his body tingle, it was like there was an electric current running between them that should not be interrupted.

"He doesn't want you though," Toby chided himself aloud. "Christ," Toby sighed with exasperation. "Now I'm talking to myself. I must really be losing it. Damn him!"

Toby stopped the car, pulling in against the curb. He looked around him, not sure how he had ended up back at Chris's building again. Toby dragged himself out of the car and crossed the street.

"Fuck it," he said aloud. "I'm gonna get him out of my system, one way or another."

***

Chris Keller lay sprawled on the couch, his wrist wrapped tightly in an Ace bandage, the tape on his ribs pulling each time he moved. He had been off work for a few days since the incident with his last trick. It still pissed him off whenever he thought about it, how could he have been that stupid.

`Toby,' his mind reminded him.

Chris had been unable to get the memory of the exasperating yet sweet, annoying yet endearing blond out of his mind. He realized he had been picking up guys that reminded him of the other man and that was what had prompted him to let Simon lead him home that night.

Simon was the complete opposite of Toby; he was big, his skin the color of dark chocolate. Chris assured himself that this would finally get thoughts of Toby out of his head. Simon had taken him to his apartment, once they entered there was no preamble. Chris was shoved up against the wall, pinned by the other man's large hands. He felt Simon's probing tongue as their bodies were pressed together; Chris enjoyed the rawness of the encounter, savoring the feel of Simon's hard body impaling him.

It was good, even the bondage which Chris normally avoided. But then Simon had pulled out a whip and Chris's body had tensed. The enthusiastic fervor of their coupling, combined with the tension in Chris's body was what had, in the end, caused the sprained wrist and bruised ribs. Chris did not begrudge Simon for the injuries, but he sure as hell was not planning a repeat performance.

Consequently, here he was, lounging on the couch, the late afternoon sunlight trickling through the dirt-streaked window. Chris raised the remote control searching for anything that wouldn't require much thought; the painkillers he had been given made any sort of concentration a chore. He finally stopped on "The Jerry Springer Show," the graphic at the bottom telling him the show was about women who had dated more than three men in the same family or some such shit.

"Heh," he chuckled as some girl with hair the size of New Jersey wobbled out onto the stage in five-inch heels. Chris's eyes began drooping as the woman babbled on and on; before the brother, father and cousin came out to confront the girl of their collective dreams, Chris fell asleep.

The talk-show must have permeated through his consciousness, infecting his dreams.

The scene was fuzzy as Chris watched Gordon Elliott introduce himself, telling the studio audience the topic of today's show. "REUNITING LONG LOST LOVERS," he shouted as the audience clapped wildly, hooting and hollering.

"Let's meet out first guest," dream-Gordon announced. "Christopher Keller."

In the dream Chris watched himself walk out onto the stage, swaggering over to the comfortable, yet garishly upholstered chair. Chris couldn't hear what he and Gordon were talking about, but the
audience reaction was uproarious. Finally, Chris could hear the host preparing to introduce the long lost lover.

"Chris," dream-Gordon started. "Here he is...Tobias Beecher." From behind a thinly curtained opening, Chris saw Toby push through onto the stage.

On the couch, the sleeping Chris twisted and turned, batting at something unseen. A pounding on the door slowly drew him from his deep slumber. Chris opened his eyes; he looked around relieved to see that it had just been a drug-induced nightmare. He was in his own apartment, yet still the pounding on the door continued. His mind was still muzzy from sleep as he rolled gingerly off the couch, trudging toward the door.

Toby stood in the hallway, impatiently waiting for the door to be opened. He still was not sure why he had come to Chris's, his mind frantically searched for reasons to explain his appearance on the
man's doorstep. He knew he couldn't tell Chris the truth.

`I can't get you out of my head. All I can think about is kissing you. Do you wanna go out sometime? Christ, Beecher, get yourself together; say that and he'll laugh in your face right before he throws your ass out.'

Toby started to turn away, not sure if he could go through with it, whatever -it- was supposed to be. Before he could even take a step, the door swung open and Toby stood face-to-face with Chris Keller. Toby couldn't help but stare at the man in front of him. Chris was wearing a pair of low slung sweats and a grey tank; he leaned his arm against the door giving Toby another glimpse of the tattoo that adorned his tricep. Toby had to still his hands, he longed to reach out and trace his fingers over the tangled black lines. Chris's voice broke into his musing.

"And the hits just keep on comin'. What the hell are you doing here?" Chris growled, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Standing in the hallway," Toby replied lamely, trying to reduce the tension that surrounded them.

"Jesus, now he thinks he's a comedian," Chris mumbled. "Look, I'm not in the mood for your fucking frat boy bullshit."

Toby balked, "Screw you, I'm not a frat boy. And don't ever call me that again."

"Fine, whatever, don't get your panties in a bunch."

Toby blushed, his eyes sweeping the floor.

"You plan on standing in the doorway all day, *Toby*?" Chris asked, emphasizing the other man's name.

Toby pulled his eyes back up to Chris's face as he stepped inside the small apartment, Chris pushed the flimsy door closed.

"Shall I take your coat?" Chris asked sarcastically, amused at the rise he had gotten out of Toby earlier. "Would you like something to drink? Coffee...Tea...Me..." Chris laughed as the scarlet tint crept up Toby's neck once again.

"Actually," Toby stammered, his vocal cords constricting as he forced the words from his mouth. "I do want you."

"Yeah, right. You don't want me, you want..."

Toby interrupted, "No, I do. I want you." His voice stronger this time.

Chris waved his hand in Toby's direction. "No," he answered vehemently. "You want someone nice to play with, someone safe. And that sure as hell isn't me."

"I think I'm old enough to decide for myself what I want," Toby said, a trace of anger in his voice. "I can't stop thinking about you, and it's driving me insane."

Chris scoffed in response.

"Dammit! I've tried, believe me. Still, every time I close my eyes...it's you I see."

Chris rolled his eyes, "You don't know what you're talking about. Just fucking forget about me, leave me alone." Chris turned away from Toby; he slouched his way back toward the couch. "Just go home, Toby," Chris implored wearily as he dropped back down into the cushions.

Toby observed Chris's sleek movements; even plopping down on a battered couch was sexy when Chris Keller did it. Toby's hands balled into fists, unconsciously, as he gathered every ounce of
courage he had and shifted toward Chris's reclining form.

Toby leaned down, drawing Chris's face closer to him. He brushed his lips against Chris's mouth, his arms balancing him on either side of Chris's shoulders. Toby felt Chris's hand settle in the center of his chest, trying to push him away. Toby wasn't going to give up easily; he twined his fingers together behind Chris's head as he straddled Chris's thighs, lowering himself down.

Chris was caught off guard by Toby's assertiveness and slowly he relaxed beneath Toby's weight. Giving himself over completely to the feel of the other man; long fingers lightly grazing along his nape, moist mouth covering his lips, threatening to steal his breath. Lips parted as tongues slid together, battling and caressing in a sensual dance of desire. Their kisses were hungry, each man trying to devour the other.

Toby's tongue traced Chris's lower lip, as they parted slightly, only long enough to regain their breath. Their mouths again crushed together, tongues tangled as they sought to discover every inch of each other. Both men moaned, their vocalizations mingled; the kiss intensified.

Toby felt Chris's arms enfold him, shoving his coat off roughly onto the floor, as the other man finally dropped all of his defenses. The feel of Chris's strong arms surrounding him sent a shiver through Toby's already overheated body. Chris's fingers tripped along Toby's spine; he curved himself into Chris's hands, only aware of his urgent craving to prolong the contact. Toby longed to touch Chris, to make him feel the same need.

Toby released his arms from around Chris's neck. Unsure of his actions, he softly laid his hands, splayed, on Chris's shoulders. His palms traveled down the firm musculature of Chris's limbs, over the tattoo to the forearm, his fingers tracing the pattern of veins that strained against the surface of Chris's skin. Toby worked his way back up to Chris shoulders, trailing his fingers across Chris's chest and over his ribs. Chris winced.

`Oh Jesus, I did something wrong. Fuck! I screwed it up again.'

Toby's mind raced, he began to pull away. This time Chris was the one who held on, he drew Toby back into his arms. His tongue traced the tender flesh of Toby's earlobe.

"You're not going anywhere," Chris whispered, his voice a sexy rumble. Chris nipped lightly on the soft tissue; lowering his head he burrowed against Toby's neck. Toby collapsed against Chris's
body, sighing quietly. Fire raged between them, hearts racing in unison.

Chris's tongue lingered, dropping feathery kisses on the pulsing throb in Toby's neck. His mouth traced the line of the other man's collarbone, sweeping from one side to the other. Chris dragged his hands down Toby's back, resting on his ass before sliding smoothly onto his thighs. Toby's body arched toward Chris, straining to be touched.

Chris fiddled with the clasp on Toby's jeans, pulling the zipper down with a soft metallic whoosh. Toby raised himself from Chris's lap as the other man pushed the denim down onto his thighs. Toby's cock jutted out from the split in the front of his boxers; Toby ached for Chris's touch. Chris wrapped one hand firmly around Toby's shaft, with his other hand he took one of Toby's wrists, tugging it toward the waistband of his own sweats. Toby did not need much instruction as he slipped his fingers beneath the elastic, yanking Chris's pants down over his hips. Chris wore nothing underneath and his hard cock curved into Toby's grasp.

The two men moved closer, pressing their groins together. Their fingers mingled along their straining cocks. Stroking, up and down, up and down. They rubbed their dicks together, grinding the throbbing flesh in concert. A low rumble grew between them as they tumbled toward the precipice. Hands moved faster, strokes lengthened, grips tightened as the two pumped harder.

Toby came first, his voice strangled, "Unnnhhh..." His cock pulsed in Chris's grasp, coating the flesh between them with the sticky juice of orgasm. Toby's fist continued to slide along Chris's shaft, he jerked faster and faster until he felt the muscles in Chris's body contract, sending a warm stream of cum from the tip.

Toby collapsed onto Chris, their juices blended between them. Chests rose and fell as both men tried to regain their composure. For awhile they lay in silence, neither wanting to break the spell that had fallen over them in the shadow of their orgasm.

Toby spoke quietly, his head buried in the crook of Chris's neck, "Christ, I think I love you."

Chris's body tensed, reacting to the barely heard words. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice suddenly cold.

"Ummm...nothing," Toby answered, confused as he became aware of the change in Chris's body

Chris freaked out, sure of what he had heard.

`How did I let myself get into this. I should have known better.'

Chris suddenly pushed Toby away, rolling him off onto the couch. He stood staring at Toby, who was looking at him fear and disappointment etched on his features.

Chris's voice was harsh when he spoke. "Pull your fucking pants up and get out."

"But I thought..."

Toby never finished his sentence, Chris wrenched him up and shoved him toward the door. "Fuck off. Just stay away from me."

Toby staggered, his pants still around his knees. He quickly pulled them up, his eyes meeting Chris's for a moment before he turned away. Toby threw open the door, his hands trembling as he ran out of the apartment.

Chris tugged his pants back up over his hips as the door closed behind Toby's retreating figure. He wiped his hand along his stomach, covering his fingers with the still warm blend that was drying on his skin. Raising his hand to his lips, he tasted the salty mixture, breathing in the essence of desire.

Chris walked slowly toward the window; he pressed his forehead against the cool glass and watched as Tobias Beecher ran across the street to his car, and out of his life. Chris stood frozen, regret washing over him; he stared out into the blackness of the night as the darkness enveloped him.

Finally, he pulled himself away from the window. As he went through the motions of cleaning himself and grabbing a full bottle of whiskey he had to struggle to keep from wondering, worrying about Toby. He'd left in such a rush... Chris didn't let himself finish that thought. Gingerly sitting down on the couch, Chris began working his way through the bottle; he'd put the whole thing behind him, one way or another. He took a swig of the liquor, letting the warm liquid burn through his body. Taking another long pull from the bottle, slowly he began to slip into the depths of liquid oblivion.

-TO BE CONTINUED-