~*~ The events of this story will incorporate external added elements from the author's imagination into the already rich and exhilarating canon narrative of the HBO original series, Oz. For the most part, the canon of the series will remain intact to preserve a sense of realism to the plot, while also being sensitive of the time flow of events occurring within Oz.

~*~ Although the characters to be featured are prominently factual in their given genre, they are the sole property of Tom Fontana and Barry Levinson, and are copyrighted to Rysher Entertainment and HBO. All original characters are of the author's creation and belong to him alone and, as with the rest of the story, may not be replicated or redistributed in any way without formal consent from said author.

~*~ Underage reading or any other illegalities is neither encouraged nor condoned in any way by the author. He also will not tolerate any form of plagiarism towards any of the words to come, as they are his and his alone. The principal objective is that of enjoyment and entertainment to you, the reader.

~*~ Address any type of question and/or feedback to jc71883@hotmail.com, making sure to add a relation to the story on the subject line of the e-mail to guarantee its reception.



Dr. Nathan was taking off the bandage that protected the scar to check the sutures. She pressed gently into the healing gash and Alvarez winced at the slight pain. It was still tender but healing rapidly and he was happy because he wanted to leave the hospital ward already. She cleaned the outside wound to prevent infection and went to get his release paperwork when Warden Glynn walked into the infirmary and over to him.

"So, Alvarez, who's responsible?" he asked.

"I wish I knew."

"You didn't see who stabbed you?"

"No," the Latino lied to honor his part of the arrangement with Guerra. "Everything happened so fast, you know."

"Then I guess my investigation is over," the warden passively said.

"And that's really breaking you up ain't it?"

"Man---now, I'm no doctor, but I've seen a lot of stab wounds in my time," he said as he looked at the wound. "If that knife had gone in another quarter of an inch to the left, we wouldn't be having a conversation."

"Quarter of an inch?" Alvarez questioned mainly to himself. "No shit."

"No shit. Guess you got lucky, huh?"

"You going to put me back to Solitary?"

"No, no, no," Glynn said. "I mean, there's no one I'd rather see rot in Solitary than you---but, I figure I'll send you back to Em City. Maybe next time, you're not so lucky."

The warden gave him a hard look and walked away as a nurse came over and brought his clothes for him to change. If what Glynn said was true, Guerra tried to kill him. They had an agreement and the stupid fuck tried to take him out. Alvarez was upset---but he was still alive so the agreement technically had not been broken. The Latino slipped on his pair of pants and carefully covered his upper body with a shirt.

It was the usual hounding when he returned to Em City and a part of him thought he was going to see Ryan O'Reily there, but it was almost lunchtime so he was at work. Alvarez went to his pod to get situated and he knew El Norte's eyes were on him from the moment he had come back. Morales, Guerra, and a couple of random members were sitting at a table in the quad and talking. He left the pod and went to them.

"We got to talk," Alvarez said.

"Oh---you want me to shank you again? Okay," Guerra said with a smug smile.

"Can I sit down?" he mainly addressed Morales this time.

"Blow me," one of the random Latino gang members said.

"Get up," Morales kicked the seat and he did. "Have a seat."

"So?" Guerra said.

"You tried to kill me," Alvarez said and knew he was right.

"No I didn't. You alive, ain't you? That was our deal."

"You were supposed to stab me in the shoulder, man. Blade went in a quarter of an inch from my heart," he said of Glynn's suspicions.

"Must have fucking moved, choca. What can I say?" Guerra remained smug and arrogant.

"You ain't got to say nothing. I just want you to know that I know the truth, man. I'm going to honor our agreement. I didn't die---I ain't going to retaliate," Alvarez stuck to his word.

"Backing off---a wise move, Miguel," Morales spoke directly to him. "Listen to me carefully. I'm never going to welcome you back to El Norte. But, what I will do, is guarantee that we'll leave you be."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Guerra said.

"All scores are settled," Morales said to the both of them.

"Excuse me," Alvarez said.

He pushed out the chair and walked away from them. Morales gave him a lot to think about. He had never been able to trust El Norte or any of their leaders, so it was dangerous to start now. For the most part, Morales was able to keep his lapdog Guerra under control, but Alvarez would never put anything past either of them. He just had to keep his eyes open and his ears listening.

The buzzer sounded for lunch and Alvarez knew he would be seeing O'Reily on the serving line---it was no place to talk, though. He had to be a loner inside these walls and, realistically, the partnership with the Irishman had a very good chance of falling apart. Alvarez had prepared for that scenario already but, for now, he was going to play everything by ear and see if O'Reily wanted to prove himself---and how he was going to prove himself to the other man.

Alvarez stood in line and remained quiet as everyone around him was talking or laughing or plotting. Some of the dumb fucks actually did it out in the open and that was why their plans mostly never got anywhere. Oz was a place where privacy was not an option, but private conversations were the only ones worth having. He saw O'Reily at the end of the line giving another inmate a hard time and had to smile a little. A Latino walked up behind him in the line.

"I want you to shank me," Velez spoke to him. "I don't know how you came up with the idea but it fucking rocks, and I see what it's done for you. And mostly, I see how Morales is---him talking to you before like he's taking the high road, being powerful and generous. But, behind his eyes, he's running scared. I want to follow you."

"You want to follow me?" Alvarez asked the young kid.

"Join your gang. You're the next wave, and I want to be your lieutenant. Shank me."

"I ain't going to shank you, man. I understand, you know, you think you got to prove yourself and shit, right?"

"Yes," Velez said.

"I'm going to have you do something else for me."


"Kill Guerra."

He left Velez with the request and went on to grab a tray to get lunch. O'Reily's eyes passed over him when their paths crossed to get food and he gave him the smallest piece of cake on the entire tray. Alvarez frowned but kept walking to a practically deserted table to sit by himself and eat. The pact with Guerra only said that he himself was not going to retaliate---someone else acting on his behalf was something completely different.

The loco Latino stuck his fork into the small piece of cake and took the bite. A small flap of white paper made itself known and he noticed it right away. It was no coincidence. He brushed the rest of the cake aside and retrieved the note from its hidden place. O'Reily surely knew the proper way of passing messages in prison. Alvarez was sure that no one had been any wiser to what had just happened between them. He unfolded the note close to his lap and under the table to keep it hidden.

Storage closet on the way down to Solitary. One hour.

Alvarez was going to have a bribe a hack in order to get away like that. He was going to be signed in as being in the gym but was not going to be there. It was doable and he tucked the note away to continue to eat. No more eye contact was going to be made here---especially when he knew that kid Velez was most likely watching him. It could have been a trap, but Alvarez was testing the waters and waiting to see when it would turn red from blood.

The hack took the bribe and the Latino signed himself as going to the gym. He was left unescorted to walk to the gym but took a detour---the scenic route in Oz was always nice. His eyes danced everywhere to make sure no one saw or was following him as he made his way further from the gym and closer to Solitary. Alvarez never thought that he would willingly walk this path. The door was locked, as to be expected, so he pulled out a thin blade and picked it.

A paralyzing fear gripped his insides when he closed the door behind him and felt like he was being boxed in alive. His extreme claustrophobia entered his mind and he wanted to leave, but that was not an option. Alvarez felt his heart rate elevate a little and he sat with his back to the wall across from the door and waited. His head hung low and his eyes were closed as he tried to think of wide-open spaces. Fuck! His skin felt on edge as he waited and waited to get out of the box. A shake of the doorknob touched his eardrums.

"Hey," O'Reily said lowly as he entered the small room and locked the door behind him. "I got held back. Alvarez---what's wrong?"

"Nothing---nothing," was the mumbled answer.

"Shit!" he walked over and knelt down in front of the other man. "I know it's a small room, loco, but it was the best I could do. This is the best spot for privacy right now."

"I'm feeling boxed in, man---trapped!"

"Relax---just relax," O'Reily said as he touched Alvarez's shoulder. "It'll be a quick meet."

"No. I'll be good. I just need a minute to process it," he said and looked up.


"Just talk to me---distract me," Alvarez said. "You gave me the smallest piece of cake today."

"Yeah," O'Reily laughed and sat on the floor. "I had to slip the note in at one of the corners. Schibetta looks at everything I do since Pancamo ended up in the hospital ward. Still probably thinks I had something to do with his dear old dad's death."

"Did you?"

He remained silent for a moment, but then replied, "Yeah. Adebisi and I fed him ground up glass over a couple weeks."

"And he bled out from the inside," the Latino remembered the old man's death. "I remember."

The Irishman did not know why he had just admitted to Nino Schibetta's murder, but it was a dangerous position to be in. Maybe admitting the murder was a small step in trying to get Alvarez's trust. He slowly seemed to be getting comfortable with being in the small room though because his body did not look to be as on edge as it was when O'Reily had first walked in.

"How's the wound?" he asked.

"Healing up. You know a shank can't keep me down, vÝbora," the Latino said as he unconsciously touched his chest through his shirt. "And, I might get a hit in after all."

"I thought you weren't going to hit back."

"Who said I was the one doing the hitting?"

"You're crazy, Alvarez," O'Reily said but looked on. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"That's why you call me loco, papa."

He smiled and told O'Reily about Velez and the conversation they had while waiting in the cafeteria line. The boy wanted to prove himself badly---and also wanted Alvarez to form another Latino group. He was uneasy and not really interested in the idea, but O'Reily seemed to have different ideas than his own. All of a sudden, he did not want to talk about business anymore. His brain was full of too many thoughts and felt like it was in overdrive.

"Another Latino gang could be the right move for you," the Irishman said with enthusiasm. "This kid Velez seems to idolize you."

"I'm no fucking rock star," he laughed.

"No, but you already influenced him---without even trying to. Let him kill Guerra and then you can start your own gang."

"I don't want to start a gang, Irish. I don't want no fucking gang."

"Why not? This could be something great for you---for the partnership," O'Reily said with some excitement.

"I don't want power. Not that type of power, anyway," Alvarez said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Men with power like that become targets in Oz. Look at Nino Schibetta, and Hernandez---Adebisi. I'm not fucking walking around this place with a bulls-eye painted on my back. I have enough trouble staying alive as it is now."

"So---you don't want any kind of power?" he asked in confusion.

"That's not what I'm saying. I want power---but I don't want anyone in here knowing that I have it. I want to keep under the radar as much as possible---while still getting done what has to get done. Like you."

"That a compliment, loco?"

"Take it how you want. That's why I think this partnership could work. I know you don't want that kind of power, vÝbora," Alvarez said as if he was so sure of himself.

"Yeah? How do you know that?"

"Because---you would've had it by now if you really wanted it. We may have different methods, O'Reily, but we fucking think the same."

Again, the Latino was making a lot of sense in what he was saying. O'Reily knew it was only a matter of time before the likes of Pancamo, Morales, and Redding were taken out because of the way those stupid fucks flaunted their power. Neither of them wanted that kind of power because it made them that much easier to be killed. Alvarez was right---he did fly under the radar and had never bothered to do it any other way. They did think the same, and O'Reily was starting to feel a little anxious. Emotions were surfacing that were never supposed to be there in the first place.

"You're uncomfortable," Alvarez noticed him and said.

"No I'm not!" he snapped. "I'm just thinking."

"O'Reily---come on. Let's talk about it."

"It was just a onetime thing. That's it!" O'Reily was uncomfortable just at the thought of it.

"Yeah---I've been confused about it myself. Something just took over."

"Are you a fag, Alvarez?"


"Me either," O'Reily said as if he had to reassure himself. "So let's move on and forget about it."

"No," the Latino said as he got up to his knees and crawled over to the other man.

"What---what are you doing?" he asked as Alvarez's knees were on the ground and on either side of his legs.

"I don't want to forget about it, vÝbora."

Alvarez looked at him the whole time he was moving in for a kiss. Their lips touched for a microsecond before he pulled back and went in again for another one. The second kiss lasted longer and O'Reily was not moving away---maybe his body was too paralyzed with fear to move. Or maybe a part of him wanted it too. It was a confusing time for both men but the kiss felt so good. Alvarez felt alive for the first time since being confined in this hellhole. He gravitated towards those startlingly soft lips---towards another human's touch.

"Stop," O'Reily whispered out and it went almost unheard. "Stop it, Alvarez!"

He moved back and the Latino looked at him, "Oh, hey---did I move too fast?"

"I---I don't want to do this."

"Your body tells me different, Irish. Your body always tells me different," Alvarez said as he sat on the floor with his hands on his knees. "Something's there---between us. I didn't want to think about it either. But, when I was in Solitary, that was all I could do---think. I know I like being around you. I don't know if that makes me a fag or a pussy or stupid or whatever else. I want to work to get your trust. This isn't some game."

"I didn't say it was a game," O'Reily whispered again as his body tried to process the words.

"But---you're scared."

"I'm not fucking scared of anything!" he snapped.

"Okay---okay. I know you feel something for me, Ryan."

The Irishman looked up at the sound of his name and replied, "No. I---don't know."

"I know. You go around telling everyone you're not a fag. "

"I haven't done shit with any of the fucks in here!"

"Me either," Alvarez said back. "Never even thought about it once. But, something happened in Solitary. I can't explain it. I looked forward to your notes. I wanted to read them. I wanted to be partners with you because I know how much power you really have in here. You're not like those dumbfucks Morales or Pancamo."

"We can be partners. You're smarter and more dangerous than most of the bastards in here, Alvarez. That's why I knew we could be great partners. It's just---just this. It's not right, man," O'Reily said. "I'm no fag."

"Fuck what other people say. They won't know anything, anyway," Alvarez seriously said to him.

"It's not about what they think. It's---about what I think."

O'Reily was feeling open and raw. If this conversation had came up months ago, punches would have been thrown and a fight broken out. He was no fucking fag---and he had tried hard to deny that there was something else going on between them. His mind and body felt like two separate entities since even before Alvarez got out of Solitary. His mind had reprimanded him whenever his feelings showed, but his body always gravitated towards the Latino's touch. It was a fucking mess and he hated feeling this way.

"I used to be like that---always thinking about everything," Alvarez said and smiled a little. "But, when I got out of Solitary, I stopped thinking about shit so much and just went with life."

"I can't do that," O'Reily said and got up. "I'm a thinker---a fucking manipulator. I think about every single thing before I say or do it."

The Latino got up too, went over to him, and said, "I want to be your partner, Ryan. And, I want to get to know you. I want you to trust me."

"This is fucking crazy, Miguel!"

"First name, huh? That's progress," he said and laughed.

"Shut up, loco!"

"So, were back to that, vÝbora? I can deal."

The Irishman remained quiet and the room got awkward for him. Alvarez seemed to be on the same boat as him---felt the same things he knew he shouldn't. It was so far out of O'Reily's comfort zone but something kept nudging him forward. Alvarez's lips had ignited something in him but he was scared. He was no fucking fag but he liked the kiss. He wanted it again. O'Reily decided he would try the Latino's advice and let life lead him---at least for a little while, anyway. Maybe his emotions were going to sort themselves out eventually.


Ryan O'Reily woke up the next morning with a knot in his stomach and mind heavy with thoughts. Yesterday, a man had kissed him. Yesterday, another man had kissed him and he had not been repulsed by it as he thought he would be. His mind was telling him no, but his body was just drawn to Miguel Alvarez like two magnets. It was strange. He woke Cyril up and brushed his teeth to get ready to go to the kitchen. Alvarez's lips were so warm and supple when they were on his.

They also had an interaction session with Sister Pete and Kenmin later in the afternoon. It had been upon Sister Pete's insistence and Cyril had wanted to do it so he had agreed. The inmates went off to breakfast and Alvarez was walking a few people behind him. It felt good---to have him that close. O'Reily had already started telling him things that he never had told anyone else before---even his own brother. And, he knew Alvarez listened to every word he said and did not judge or condemn him for those words.

The loco Latino was in his cell reading a book as O'Reily looked at him from time to time from down by the TV area of the quad. They were just quick looks so that no one was able to read them. But, he saw Guerra looking at his former friend hard as he sat at a table with Morales. The lapdog was seriously becoming a pain in everyone's ass. He turned back to face the TV and put his headphones back on.

"Next up is Whitney Allen, star of Miss Sally's Schoolyard, to tell us about next week's Mighty Ball drawing. Whitney---" the newscaster said into his ear.

"Hi, Warren. How are you?" the bouncy TV personality addressed.

"Very well, thank you. Thanks for dropping by."

"Who are all these numbnuts who play the lottery?" O'Reily asked.

"I play the lottery," Busmalis answered.

"Me too," Beecher said.

"Like I said---numbnuts," the Irishman laughed. "Out of fifty-one numbers, you got to pick the right number not once, but six times in a row."

"I say it's possible to win," Busmalis said.

"Jesus Christ, Busmalis. You have a better chance of getting struck by lightning," O'Reily said to the old man.

Busmalis thought about it for a second and replied, "Approximately one thousand people a year win a million dollars or more in North American lotteries. In contrast, less than a hundred people a year get hit by lightning."

"So don't forget to play---because the winner just might be you," Whitney Allen said.

He watched as Busmalis and Rebadow disappeared to their pod after the drawing. His eyes quickly cut over to Alvarez once again. The lottery was a long shot, and, even if someone in here won it, they wouldn't be able to spend it anyway. O'Reily had to laugh at the pathetic idea as he watched Guerra talking to Morales. He wondered when that kid Alvarez had told him about was going to make his move against the lapdog.

"O'Reily," Officer Murphy approached him. "Time for you and your brother's appointment with the Sister."

"Yeah. Come on, Cyril. Let's go."

Kenmin's eyes were on them as they entered and O'Reily wanted to punch him---or have Cyril put him into a permanent coma this time. The fucker could not be trusted. Sister Peter began the session by having them sit across from one another with the coffee table separating them. Cyril looked sad as Sister Peter Marie talked to him and Kenmin did not take his eyes off O'Reily. He was up to something. These sessions never worked---Beecher and Schillinger were proof of that.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he heard Cyril say.

"Why did you hit Kenmin, Cyril?" Sister Pete said in her usual calm voice.

"He was punching Ryan."

"Why were you punching Ryan?" she directed her question to Kenmin.

"I had been in the cage all day," he started to say with an expressionless face. "I was feeling feisty. I decided to show off. It was stupid."

"Yeah," O'Reily interrupted.

"Ryan," Sister Peter Marie scolded him.

"What? His bullshit almost got Cyril transferred to the fucking insane asylum."

She said, "The rules are no interrupting and no swearing."

"I take full blame for everything that's happened to me---which is why I want to make peace," Kenmin stood up and extended his hand to Cyril.

"Uh---uh---uh," the Irishman put his arm in front of his brother to stop him from moving forward. "Sit the fuck down."

"No," Cyril said, as he remained standing. "I want to make peace, too."

"Go ahead," Sister Pete said to him.

O'Reily watched in disgust as his brother shook hands with Kenmin. He knew Sister Peter Marie was giving him a look but he didn't care. The fucker was faking and up to something. This show meant nothing to him. He had to watch him again---or have him taken out. Sister Pete showed him out first and, when the way was clear, she sent the two of them back to Em City. O'Reily instead told the hack that it was their time for singing lessons so they headed to the cafeteria.

Suzanne Fitzgerald hugged them both when they hopped up on the stage to spend time with her. O'Reily still felt uncomfortable with her being there, but his mother had made up her mind and he had to respect it. She played to piano and taught Cyril the proper way of doing scales. O'Reily physically had to stop himself from laughing because of how awful his little brother sounded.

"Okay,' she said.

"Stop laughing, Ryan," Cyril pouted.

"Ryan, behave," his mother gently scolded.

"I know. Okay---okay, I'm sorry," he said. "But Cyril's singing really sucks."

"Now, I've told you that this program is not about becoming Pavarotti," Fitzgerald told them. "It's about learning how to express your feelings through the music, and you did very good, Cyril."

"It's more like Pavarotten," O'Reily laughed.

"All right, you try," she challenged him.

"Uh-uh, no---no. The deal was I sign up for this class to spend more time with you. That's it. I'm not singing."

"So, this session is over," his mother said. "Next Friday, Ryan---I want to hear you sing."

"Okay, mom. You know what, I'll do you one better."

"Suzanne," Brass called out. "You next two students are here."

"Whoa---whoa---whoa, what's this?" the Irishman jumped off the stage when he saw who it was.

"I heard your mother was teaching, so I decided to give it a whirl. Jia Kenmin," he first said to O'Reily and then to Fitzgerald.

"Suzanne Fitzgerald."

"Li Chen," Chen introduced himself.

"Welcome, both of you," Fitzgerald said to them.

"Let's go, O'Reily," the officer yelled at them.

"Yeah, yeah. In a second, Brass."

"Now, fuckwad!" he demanded.

"You're fucking crazy," he said to Kenmin's face before they walked away.

"Bye guys," he waved at them.

O'Reily paced inside their pod, thinking about a way to get rid of the two of them. He was sure now more than ever that they were planning something. He was on edge and worried about his mother's safety. Brass was fucking useless now since his tendon had been slashed. He wanted to go back to the cafeteria but even Murphy was not going to allow that. Anger was building inside him.

"What's the matter, Ryan?" Cyril asked him.

"I got a bad feeling, man."

"About what?"

"About that piss stain Jia Kenmin," O'Reily said as he looked out to the quad. "I know he's perpetrating. I know he's plotting something against us. I think he might want to hurt my mom."

"I like her."

"Yeah, well, she likes you too, Cyril," he looked back at his brother and said.

"You want to trade?"

"Trade? Trade what?"

"I'll give you my most prized possession if you give me her," Cyril said in his childlike way.

"We don't have to trade, Cyril. We can share her---you know that."

"Really?" his eyes lit up and O'Reily smiled at his innocence.

"Yeah. Hey---don't I share everything with you?" the Irishman said and noticed Kenmin passing by his pod. "Hey, Jia."

"Your mother's a wonderful person," he said and smiled.

"Yeah. Well, let's make sure she stays that way."

"Meaning what?"

"You fuck with her one time, you go back into a coma---this time, it's permanent," O'Reily harshly warned.

"Look, you have nothing to fear from me," Kenmin said. "But Li Chen---he's a different matter. He's one sick fuck."

Kenmin walked away with the words and left him to think. He wanted to punch the motherfucker until he stopped breathing. O'Reily walked back into the pod and saw Cyril coloring. He decided to calm himself down so his brother would not ask any more questions. He hopped up to his bed and looked up at the ceiling of the pod. If something had happened to his mother, he would have heard about it by now. She was safe---but for how long, he did not know.

Later in the day, the group was meeting and he went to get his mind off Kenmin. He sat next to Sister Pete and Guerra was sitting across from him. He looked at the fool and resisted the urge to laugh in his face. He was not sure if the kid Velez had it in him to kill, but Guerra was a marked man anyway. He listened as Sister Pete started the meeting. O'Reily remained his stoic when his mind ran on Alvarez.

"I got a postcard from my honey---she's in Maui," Guerra told the group.

"Oh yeah. Maui---man Maui's awesome. You know, you can actually climb down into a volcano there. And the women, they got great---great---" O'Reily was saying but saw Sister Pete smiling at him. "They got great inner beauty."

"You been to Maui?" Guerra asked.

"No," he replied. "I just read it in National Pornographic. You know, lots of color photos and shit."

"Does it bother you that your girlfriend is in Hawaii, Chico?" Sister Peter Marie asked.

"No. I know that Consuela still loves me, and I want her to be having a good time and all, but the postcard--- it really ripped my heart out, you know. Places I'll never see."

"There are worse things than your woman going on vacation," Hill said.

"Yeah---like what?" Guerra said.

"She could leave you. She could send you a letter one day and say, you know, the time has come for her to move on with her life," Hill told him. "I'm saying, I thought the worst thing that could happen to me was losing my legs---losing my freedom. But, Annabella, that's like losing my manhood---another big chunk of who I am."


It was quiet down the hallway to Unit J as Alvarez walked it to get to where he needed to be. Since Yood was the only one left there now, and was a relatively harmless inmate, it was a safe place for them to have their meetings for the time being. The storage room was bigger than the last few they had met up in and Alvarez's insides breathed some relief. The Latino looked around as he closed the door behind him and when he saw who he was looking for, he locked it. O'Reily came out from behind a few shelves and looked at him.

"About time, loco," he said. "I got a bigger place."

"I see that," Alvarez said as he moved forward. "What's up?"

"Fucking Kenmin, man. I hate that goddamn cocksucker!"

"What's going on with him? Do we need to handle it?"

O'Reily looked away and said, "I think he's out to get my mom---to get back at me."


"I know he's plotting something."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Alvarez seriously said. "We'll play it cool for now but I'll watch him."

"And the other one, too---Chen."

"Yeah, okay. Don't worry about those bastards, vÝbora. We'll take them out before they have a chance to reach your ma."

O'Reily sat down against the wall and tried to think hard about what Kenmin and Chen were planning. He had been on edge ever since he found out that they had signed up for singing lesions with his mother. Alvarez came and sat down beside him but said nothing. He knew those two Asians were playing a dangerous game if O'Reily was this upset and worried. The Latino thought about it first before he did it He placed his hand slightly above other man's knee.

"Hey," he said in that sultry voice of his. "Don't worry about your mom. She'll be fine."

"Those bastards hurt her and they're dead."

"No doubt about that," Alvarez said as he took his hand back.

O'Reily noticed it and said, "Alvarez---I'm not sure I can do this. It---it just doesn't feel right."

"I know. My body gets---different around you. Like it stops listening to my brain and does whatever it wants."

"That shit happens to me, too."

"Ryan---I like that feeling. I'm always on edge because I'm always watching my back or fighting to stay alive. I need a break from all that sometimes," he said and they looked at each other. "I don't want to stop."


Alvarez moved closer to him and kissed his lips. He kissed with such pent up passion because he yearned for touch. He yearned for one good feeling among all the horrible ones he was forced to relive every day in Oz. His tongue brushed against O'Reily's lips and begged for entrance into his mouth. Alvarez was not sure about this either but he was letting his body guide him now. They could figure out what everything meant later. He had not kissed someone in so long---or, had someone kiss him back.

The Irishman parted his lips and his tongue came out in full force to wrestle with the other one it met. It was a battle of pleasure. Alvarez knew how to kiss---as if he was doing it with every fiber of his body. It must have been a Latin thing---a passionate Latin thing. O'Reily rested his head against the hard wall and allowed his mouth to be taken because Alvarez's zeal was overpowering. He was as fierce in his emotions as he was dangerous here in Oz.

Excitement shocked Ryan O'Reily down to his very core. Shannon had never kissed him like that. The only kiss that had come close had been with a Puerto Rican girl he had cheated on her with a few months into their young marriage. The kisses were amazing and the sex was awesome, but they had never seen each other again. But Alvarez was different because his kiss was on a whole other level. His lips knew exactly what to do and his tongue knew exactly where to go to solicit a small groan from O'Reily. It was as if he poured his soul into the act.

"Dammit!" O'Reily said when their lips separated. "Fuck!"

"What's wrong?"

"Christ, Alvarez---where'd you learn to kiss like that? The breath's like fucking sucked out of my body."

Alvarez smiled at the compliment and said, "It's in the blood, vÝbora."

"Uh-huh---I bet."

"What---you Irish have green in your veins, don't you? Well, we Latins have lava in ours."

"I'm fucking hard as a rock," he was slightly embarrassed to say because he had gotten so from only kissing.

"Lie down, and take your shirt off. I---I want to try something."

"What?" Ryan O'Reily was shocked and his mood turned severe as his heart instantly jumped into his throat. "Nothing comes anywhere near my ass---or it won't be attached to your body anymore."

The Latino laughed at his wrongfully drawn conclusion and replied, "You don't see me bent over right now---all ready and willing to give it up either, do you? Relax, would you?"

"What do you want to do?"

"Something that'll feel really good---for the both of us. Take off your shirt, papa."

O'Reily gave him a nervous look but his hands fumbled with his shirt as he pulled it up and over his head. The floor was ice cold against his bare back as he laid there and wondered what was going to happen. If Alvarez was going to try to fuck him, there were going to be major problems. He was no fucking fag! He needed release badly though, so he went along with life for this moment.

He looked over to see that Alvarez had taken off his shirt too and was unbuckling his pants. His skin was so smooth and velvety and his stomach so toned. O'Reily was getting more turned on by him---he was fucking getting turned on by the half-naked man in front of him. Alvarez crawled on top of him and connected their lips together in another one of those kisses. Tongues lapped and played with one another to create some kind of friction.

"I'm going to unbuckle your pants, okay?" the Latino asked for permission when their lips were only slightly apart.

"Okay," came the response. "What are you doing?"

"You'll see. I promise you'll like it."

He felt a hand over his crotch and fingers tugging at the button of his jeans when his lips were assaulted with another kiss. Alvarez quickly distracted his mind as he unzipped his pants and pulled everything down to about his knees. O'Reily was not lying---he was hard and already leaking precum. The sensual kissing continued as hands roamed all over one another's bodies. Alvarez unzipped his pants and pulled them down too. It was all part of his plan.

An instant pleasure swept through the Irishman's body when he felt his dick being touched by Alvarez's dick. It was a shock and a slight shudder that left his body begging for more. Their lips crushed together as the Latino grinded their hips together---making their dicks rub against one another and against their bodies. It was already becoming sticky because they were both leaking but neither cared. The pleasure was far too real and something that should have never been experienced inside the walls of Oz.

Thrusts were made to match one another and silent groans filled the storage room. His hands roamed down Alvarez's muscular back and even gripped his butt. Every part of his skin was smooth but strong. The Latino moaned inside his mouth as their dicks played like two swords fighting against each other. His butt flexed with every thrust he made and he loved O'Reily's fingertips on his back and shoulders. He craved touch the most.

Now there was real friction and heat generated between their bodies and O'Reily grabbed their dicks together and began to jack them off. His mouth was still occupied with another pair of velvety lips. He rubbed and jacked their dicks as best he could---Alvarez was bigger and slightly thicker than he was. He was so horny and wanted release so badly. O'Reily kissed back hard and felt sparks as their bodies heated up. A layer of sweat covered his skin and he knew the same was the case for Alvarez too.

"Uhh---ohh, yeah!" Alvarez said in his mouth. "Jack us. I'm close, vÝbora. Keep going."

"Me too," he whispered out. "Fuck! Kiss me."

Alvarez sunk his head back down and pushed their lips together as he felt himself building up inside. The hypersensitivity of his dick coupled with chafing against O'Reily's dick and his hand jacking them off together was bliss. Their bodies felt like they were moving as one---feeling all the same things. Tongues and teeth scraped against flesh and O'Reily grunted loudly as he body convulsed and came with an urgent intensity. Alvarez warned him not to stop stroking them together as the friction between them was falling apart.

It was only a moment later before the Latino came and a swirl of English and Spanish words escaped his lips as he fell down on top of O'Reily's body---his head right on top on the other man's heart. Breaths were shallow and both their stomachs were sticky with small puddles of cum. O'Reily's hands fell to his side and he looked up at the ceiling and tried to stop his head from spinning. This time had been so much better than the first time when Alvarez had jacked him off. His insides were haywire and a tangled mess.

"We got to go," the Irishman cleared his throat and said as his body jerked up into Alvarez's. "Come on---don't want anyone finding us like this."

"Let's clean up then," Alvarez looked up and into those green eyes that reminded him of sour apple blow pops.

When O'Reily looked away, he knew he was uncomfortable again. It must have been hard for him---it was hard for the both of them. Alvarez got up and rested on his knees as he reached for paper towels from a nearby shelf to clean themselves off with. They both did so in silence. They pulled up their pants and put their shirts back on when they were sufficiently clean. The paper towels went in the trash and Alvarez rubbed his face as he quickly worked to build back up his walls. O'Reily was inside his mind busily stacking back the bricks of his defense before they had to go.

"I'll go first," Alvarez announced when he felt he was ready to go back to Oz. "I'll watch those chinks."


"Come on."

"Come on what?" O'Reily looked at him with confusion.

"Kiss me."

"No. Just go, loco---before we get caught."

"One more second won't hurt. Come on," Alvarez said matter-of-factly.

The Latino was extremely persuasive when he wanted to be. O'Reily walked over to him and gave him a quick kiss but their bodies were pulled together and it became a sultrier one. Alvarez smiled and dodged out of the storage room after their lips had parted to leave him alone. O'Reily rubbed his lips and cursed under his breath as he waited for his turn to leave. Alvarez's kisses were some of the best he had ever known, and it was ironic that they had come from another man. The Irishman put that last cinderblock of his defense up before he snuck away from the storage room.