~*~ 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 firstname.lastname@example.org, making sure to add a relation to the story on the subject line of the e-mail to guarantee its reception.
It had been twelve days before the state bioterrorism unit had deemed it safe for Oz to reopen and reestablish itself as the maximum security prison it was. The governmental unit had worked nonstop since the emergency evacuation to contain the spillage and prevent it from spreading any further than it had. Multiple hazmat crews had been called in to disinfect the walls and the very air inside the prison. The threat had been more dangerous than anyone had initially thought.
The mailroom had been the epicenter of the poisonous dust and the bodies had to be properly cleaned before they were moved. All the Aryans that had worked in the mailroom that day along with two supervising correctional officers had dropped dead and had never known why. Most of the days had been spent in that room containing the vile powder and securing it for proper disposal. The entire prison had to be sprayed repeatedly to kill all the toxins in the walls, floor, furniture, and air.
Prisoners had been housed together in numerous separate facilities and according to whom they had been tethered to when they had evacuated. Most of them had heard from local news programs about the poisonous anthrax scare that had shut Oz down for so many days. Some had been placed at Conley Institute and many others had been restricted to other, smaller prison systems in the tri-county area.
It had been an uncomfortable cluster of days and many of the inmates had wanted to return to where many of them had considered home. They had wanted everything to go back to normal and for life to return to the routine at Oz. Settling back into everyday life had to be the top priority of the inmates as well as the correctional staff. Everything had seemed so small and insignificant when they all had the same goal when they had fled from Oz---survival.
The cafeteria smelled of disinfected air and cleaning solution as the entire inmate population sat and listened to Querns address them on the status of Oz. Most of the staff sat behind him and the hacks were roaming between the tables to make sure there was no trouble. Many of the prisoners were agitated and wanted to get back to their cells or pods to see if any of their belongings were taken. No one wanted to listen to fucking Querns.
"And so, nothing has changed. Oz has been given a bill of good health by the governmental bioterrorism unit and everyday operations will resume as normal," the warden stood behind the podium and said. "The officers will also be cracking down on drug use. If you are caught with drugs---it is an automatic trip to the hole without any questions asked."
"That's bullshit!" an inmate yelled out and the inmates screamed out boos and curse words.
"Silence!" Querns towered over them and said. "I'm cleaning up this prison, and I will not take any shit from any of you. If you do what you're supposed to do and are where you're supposed to be, we won't have any problems. Now, most of your possessions have been thoroughly disinfected and thus, have been saved from being disposed. Maybe you'll think about how uncomfortable it was for all of you when you were being passed through the system for the last twelve days before one of you try something like this again. Don't fuck up!"
After, Ryan O'Reily looked through his belongings to see if they had taken anything, but everything was there. The past days had been bad for him because he had been stuck with the likes of Pancamo and Poet rather than his father or Alvarez. His father, like the rest of the ward patients, had been taken to the Benchley Memorial to receive treatment and that was where they had waited out the rest of the time.
On top of it all, he missed Cyril like crazy. Thoughts of his brother had consumed him since they had been forced from Oz and he felt like a fucking walking zombie. Oz was slowly taking everything away from him and it was maddening. The Irishman left the pod behind and walked up the stairs to McManus's office. He had changed his mind and wanted to talk to the unit manager.
"McManus---I need a minute," he said as he stood in the doorway.
"I don't got a minute, O'Reily. Whatever it is, the answer's `no'."
"Hey, I want my dad to come to Em City. I want him in my pod."
"What?" McManus looked at him and said. "We had this discussion before and came to an agreement."
"Shit's changed. I have to look out for the old man. Come on, McManus."
"No. No. No. And especially not with Neema back here."
"I don't give a fuck about him," O'Reily said. "My dad's the only one I got left in Oz."
"Look, I know Cyril's death was hard on you---and your mom, but you can't use it as a bargaining chip to get whatever you want," the unit manager told him. "Seamus O'Reily has already returned to Gen Pop. That's it."
"Fuck you, motherfucker!" he angrily said. "I wouldn't use Cyril's memory like that, bastard!"
"All right---this is over. Officer, take O'Reily out."
"Fuck you, McManus! Fucking cocksucker!"
The officer came in but he was already out the door and heading back to his pod. He had to figure out a way to get his father into Em City, but McManus seemed adamant about wanting him to stay in Gen Pop. O'Reily started changing his clothes because he had to get to work in the ward soon. Alvarez was nowhere on the floor. He had to be in his pod and O'Reily wanted to talk to him but now was not the time.
Most of the patients had fully recovered at Benchley Memorial during their twelve-day visit, but there were a few that still needed extra medical treatment. O'Reily walked around to make sure everything was good and had constant thoughts about Cyril's last moments---how scared it had to have been for him. He was staring off in the medicine room and heard someone call him.
"Ryan---Ryan," Dr. Nathan said to him. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah---yeah," he cleared his throat and said. "Sorry."
"Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Ryan---about what happened in the gym the day your brother was executed," she uncomfortably began to say. "I did not mean for that to happen."
"Why not?" O'Reily asked but was not sure why he did.
"It's unethical, Ryan. I am a doctor here and you are a prisoner. That line never should have been crossed."
"So, why did you do it?"
"I don't know. I saw you in pain and wanted to comfort you. I know how much you love Cyril," Dr. Nathan said.
"He's free. He's fucking free."
"I know. Ryan---I'm sorry I kissed you. I don't want you to think I'm leading you on in any way. I guess I had a weak moment too. It won't happen again."
"You were there for me when no one else could be, Gloria," the Irishman said. "Hey---I appreciate that. I know your ethics and morals drive you. I like that about you."
"You said `like'."
"Nothing. This won't affect your working here, will it?"
"No," he said. "I still want to be here."
"Okay," Dr. Nathan said and smiled. "Good."
"Hey, I need to ask a favor from you."
"What is it?"
"Talk to McManus about letting my dad stay in Em City," O'Reily said and hoped she could get the job done.
"I don't know, Ryan---"
"Please. He's the only family I have left in Oz."
"Okay. I'll try."
Feelings that were supposed to be there were no longer there---both of them had started feeling it. O'Reily knew that he did not love her anymore and the kiss in the maze had only cemented it. He had tried for so many years to get her to return his affections and, when she did, he had not embraced it in any way. The kiss had come to mean nothing to him, but it was going to be tied to his memories of Cyril forever.
Dr. Nathan had noticed his obvious words and he wondered why she had made a conscious effort to bring it to his attention. When they had kissed, there was definitely more passion coming from her side than his. O'Reily's mind was so overwhelmed with grief, loss, and guilt that he did not feel much of anything else. He wondered if Dr. Nathan wanted it to remain as professional as she told him it had to be. He walked out to the main room and saw Alvarez being escorted in by a hack.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked the hack.
"Says he's throwing up and feeling dehydrated."
"Hey, Alvarez, you all right? Get on the bed over there," O'Reily asked and then instructed him.
O'Reily went back to work as Dr. Nathan and a nurse examined the Latino to see what was wrong with him. His face looked pale and his eyes watery when the guard had brought him in. This was the first time in almost two weeks they were close enough to talk, but he could not say anything until Dr. Nathan had left him. She prescribed him a light dose of medication and kept him for a few hours of observation before she got back to work at her desk.
"Hey, how are you doing, loco?" the Irishman walked over and quietly asked when all the commotion had faded.
"I should be asking you that."
"Hanging in there. Missing him like fucking crazy," he said and a sad smile hung from his lips.
"I know, vÝbora---I know," Alvarez said in a faint voice.
"Get some rest. You sound out of it."
"No. Stay here and talk to me."
He looked around and saw the few other patients resting and not paying any attention to them. The nurse had left on her break and Dr. Nathan was busy with the paperwork on her desk. Anyway, having a small conversation with another inmate did not mean much of anything in the infirmary. So their bases were covered. O'Reily was worried because he had not seen Alvarez like this in a long time. Then it hit him hard as to what was going on.
"Shit, Alvarez, you're on Destiny, aren't you?" he lowly said.
"Don't look at me like that," the Latino tried to defend himself.
"Fucking A. It's true, then. What the hell are you doing?"
"Alvarez, you've been clean since before we started the partnership. That fag Torquemada did this, didn't he?" O'Reily said with a flare of anger in his voice.
"He doesn't make me take them. I want to take them."
"Do you fucking hear yourself?"
"I'm going to die in Oz---Ruiz is going to make sure of that. All my hard work was for nothing. Why should I remain on the straight and narrow anymore?" Alvarez said, but hated himself for it. "That was a fucking joke."
"Maybe, but you're a better partner when your head's clear. I don't want a drughead for a partner. I've had many of them---and you see how they all turned out," he said and tried to make himself clear. "That cocksucker Torquemada."
"He got nothing to do with this."
"He's your goddamn podmate---supplies you with the tabs. Why are you defending him? What the hell goes on there at night? Everyone in the damn prison knows he has some sick obsession with you."
"Fuck you!" Alvarez became incredibly defensive and snapped. "Nothing's going on."
O'Reily had been so caught up with Cyril that he was not paying full attention to what had been going on with the Latino and that queen. He was sure that Querns's warning did not deter Torquemada---or any other slingers for that matter. Oz was the same old shit over and over. There were just going to be newer and more creative ways of buying and selling drugs. Alvarez had been right. Torquemada was going to be a big problem if his D-tabs were this powerful.
"If you're caught with drugs, you're going in the hole. Remember what the warden said."
"I don't have anything on me. In me---that's a different story," Alvarez said and let out a light laugh.
"This isn't funny, Miguel. I'm worried about you."
"I'll be fine. It's like riding a bike---my body will get used to it again," he easily said.
"I don't fucking want your body getting used to that shit," the Irishman retorted.
"This was the first one I had since we left Oz. He wasn't with me where I went."
"Dammit. This is a problem," O'Reily said, mainly to himself.
"I don't think so. It's okay, vÝbora---be cool. You want to give me a kiss?"
"Shut the fuck up!" he quickly said. "Look around at where you are."
"I'm kidding. Geez---lighten up," the Latino smiled again.
"I have to get back to work."
"Hey, don't be mad. I'm sorry about Cyril."
"AIDS ward tomorrow at three."
He left the bedside as soon as another inmate came in complaining of stomachache. He was angry and jealous at what had been going on with Alvarez and Torquemada. He did not want a drugged up partner because Alvarez's sharp senses and ideas would be compromised while he was under the influence. And he became more violently and uncontrollably dangerous. O'Reily did not want to imagine that fag's fingers, or anything else, being near Alvarez. The Latino would never let him get that close, anyway. His mind started thinking of possibilities to get rid of him and his D-tabs.
The Irishman watched with contempt during lunch as he saw Torquemada attempting to hang all over Alvarez. The Latino was mainly brushing him off because he looked uncomfortable having the flamboyant man anywhere near him. O'Reily waited for his father to pass through the line and to sit with him. Their relationship was still fragile, but he was the only family he had left in Oz.
"Hey, dad," he said as Seamus O'Reily sat across from him. "You healed up?"
"Yeah. That asswipe still needs to be in the hole," the man said and he looked a few tables away at Neema.
"Don't worry about him. He's not a problem as long as you're not a problem."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"Come on, dad. Neema didn't attack you," O'Reily said and drank some juice. "You and I know that. Forget about him."
"Fuck you! That bastard stabbed me---tried to kill me. We have to get revenge."
"No. No revenge. You brought the shank."
"You can't tell me what to do," his father said with a nasty attitude.
"Dad, calm down. I'm trying to get you in Em City with me. McManus won't go for it if he knows you're plotting revenge against Neema," he said and was losing his patience.
"So, I can come to Em City?"
"Not yet. I'm working on it. Just fucking lay low and stay by yourself until then."
"How long will that be?"
"I don't know. Give me some time," O'Reily frustratingly said.
"That nigger's dead once I get in there," Seamus O'Reily said because revenge was his plan.
"Geez, dad---shut the fuck up about that!"
His father was already driving him crazy and he questioned whether he really wanted to share a pod with him or not. Despite everything, Neema had been good to him and Cyril and he did not hold any ill will towards the man. O'Reily left the table to dump his tray and left the cafeteria because he had to get away from the old man. He had seen the Italians slinging tits during lunch. The hacks were stupid---they were never going to catch anything. He had to find a way to keep tits more prominent than Destiny. Torquemada was never going to control Em City---not while he was around.
Darkness blanketed all of outside as he stood in front of the glass door and looked out at the quiet floor below him. He could barely see O'Reily's pod, but he knew the other man was not looking back. Alvarez felt so lonely and his head still felt light from the combination of Destiny and the medicine Dr. Nathan had given him on his earlier visit to the hospital. He had not taken another D-tab since then, much to Torquemada's disappointment. He wanted to stop, but he wanted to forget, too. He wanted to forget more than anything else.
"You want a D-tab to get the party started, honey?" the queen came behind him and whispered.
"No. Back away. I told you not to get that close."
"You're so sexy when you tell me what to do. It is already happening, Miguelito."
"What is? And don't fucking call me Miguelito," Alvarez seriously warned and did not bother to take his eyes off the pod across the quad from his.
"My precious babies are well on their way to becoming the lifeblood of Oz. Just like I told you they would."
"Good for you."
"No---good for us."
"There is no us," he dismissed.
"Come on," Torquemada said in that slinky voice of his. "I tasted you. No one else in here can say that. I have a piece of you inside me, and, I treasure it, darling."
The words rested with him and he realized that they were true. Torquemada had tasted his cum---no one inside Oz had done that, not even Ryan O'Reily. Alvarez knew the flamboyant man had thought that act had given him some kind of power over him, but nothing had been further from the truth. The Latino was never going to let the sick fuck touch or do anything else with him. No amount of D-tabs inside Oz could make him be attracted to Torquemada.
"Give me a D-tab."
"Now, now---where are you manners? What do you say, dumpling?"
He gritted his teeth and said, "Please."
"Since you asked so nicely, how can I refuse?" Torquemada said and produced the pill. "Let the party begin."
"No--no party. And I'm not jacking off for you, either. That's not happening again."
"Aw---ruin my fun. I like it when you touch yourself for me," he said as he stroked Alvarez's strong back. "I like watching your body move as you breathe---your every muscle clench and tighten as you climax by your own hand."
"Get off! I'm not a fucking fag."
"No, but I told you I just want to be you. Be all of you."
"I don't care. I don't want any part of your sexually twisted games," the Latino said and felt the drug invading his system.
"You're in a mood."
"Leave me the fuck alone."
Alvarez stopped talking because he did not want any part of the conversation anymore. Torquemada was unrelenting in his attempts to seduce him with D-tabs. He wanted no part of the man or his agenda. The queen gave up and went to bed, and he remained looking out across the quad and to one pod in particular. It was lifeless, but Alvarez knew his brain wanted him to see more than that.
There was a growing rift between him and O'Reily, but he did not know why. Things had been strange between them and Torquemada was selfishly taking up more on his time. He started to feel the similar sensations on his skin and his head being lost in a cloud of thick mist. The Latino wanted to feel connected to him again---feel that real touch that D-tabs falsely made him believe he was experiencing.
The next morning was fuzzy and blurry inside his head as he sat in the quad across from Torquemada. Destiny was still fucking with his brain and perception and he did not even respond when the queen was talking to him. Alvarez was dipping lower and lower into the seductive grip of D-tabs. He did not want this---did not want his life to go to waste this way. But, there was no hope left in his world. The parole board would make sure he stayed in Oz and, as hard as he tried, the good things he tried to accomplish would be marred by Ruiz's blind hatred of him.
"Alvarez, McManus wants you in his office," a hack said to him and walked away.
"Whatever could he want with you?" Torquemada asked.
"I don't know."
He got up and felt his head spinning---all of Em City was spinning. He waited for his head to settle down before he slowly walked up the stairs towards the office. Alvarez knew he had to pull himself together or McManus would know something was wrong with him. No one understood how crushing it was to have Ruiz keep him chained to Oz because of a personal vendetta.
"Miguel---come in, come in," McManus said after he stood up from his desk.
"What's going on?"
"Sit. We need to talk."
"Okay," Alvarez said and collapsed onto a nearby chair.
"Hey, are you all right?"
"I'm okay. What you got, McManus?"
"Well, Cathy Jo Cutler, she's---she's dead, Miguel."
He sat up on the chair and said, "Shit. How?"
"Gunshot to the head. They found her body about a week ago."
"Fuck. She didn't deserve that shit. It's all because of me she ended up like this."
"What do you mean?" the unit manager asked.
"Nothing. Never mind. Is that it?"
"There's more. She never filed the legal papers you signed---giving her possession of her husband's property."
"I never signed any papers," the Latino told him.
"She said she needed more time to think---about everything."
Schillinger had made good on his word to stop Cathy Jo Cutler from visiting him anymore. He had known that she was going to be taken care of, but it hurt a little now that McManus made the news real. Alvarez fought hard to push Destiny out of his mind because he knew that McManus was already suspicious of him. Even after his death, the bastard was still a soulless prick.
"That means that all the property is still yours, then."
"I don't want it," the Latino said. "It was supposed to go to her. If I had signed the papers then she would be alive now. I don't want it."
"Miguel, Miguel, you couldn't have known that this was going to happen."
"But I did. I can't keep it."
McManus sighed and said, "Okay, look---if you had known this was going to happen, don't you think Cathy Jo would've wanted you to have the stuff? Think about it."
"Didn't think about it that way."
"It could be a way for you to honor her memory."
"Are you sure you're all right? You look out of it."
"Fine," Alvarez almost impatiently replied.
"Okay. The state will need you to sign a few legal documents to transfer title names and bank account names. None of this actually happened the first time since you wanted to give her the stuff."
"There's a bank account, too? What exactly am I getting here?"
McManus looked through papers and said, "Let's see---well, you already know about the 1942 Indian motorcycle. There's his 1987 Ford Mustang and the title to his house, which is about half an hour away from Oz. You have access to a total of three bank accounts with upwards of two hundred and fifty thousand combined in all of them."
"Get the fuck out of here," he said and was stunned. "All that's mine now?"
"You are the sole beneficiary. A representative from the state department will be here in a few days to finalize all the paperwork."
"Where the hell did Cutler get that kind of money?"
"I'm not sure---maybe investing?" the unit manager offered his opinion. "Don't worry---the money is legitimate. Everything is legitimate."
"Can you keep this here? I don't want anyone knowing anything."
The high of Destiny was wearing off but his stomach still felt nauseous as he waited for the time when he could sneak away. Torquemada was busy with the other queers in the computer room so he did not see when Alvarez asked a hack for a favor and bribed him to get it done. He was outside within a few moments and made his way to Unit F and the closet that was there.
Nerves crept inside him, but he was excited to see O'Reily and spend some alone time with him. Even if they were just planning future moves, Alvarez needed that closeness that D-tabs had tricked him into believing was there. Nothing was there but his own raw emotions and the predatory eyes of Torquemada. He did not want the man---he did not even want to share the same pod with the queen. D-tabs had given him hope, though, and he needed hope---even if it was all false.
"O'Reily," he called out when he entered the storage room.
"It's about time you got here," the Irishman said as he emerged from behind a shelf. "What the hell took you so long?"
"Had to bribe a hack to let me out. My first plan fell through."
"You sure that bitch didn't keep you busy?"
"I don't want to talk about him. I don't want to think about him," Alvarez sternly said. "Don't start."
"What the hell are the other inmates going to think about you, Alvarez? That fag tries to hang himself all over you every chance he gets."
"Tries. I don't let him do that shit. He creeps me out. I don't give a fuck about these assholes or what they think."
"Then why is he always around you---always trying to be all over you?"
"I don't control what he does," he said back.
"Why are you popping D-tabs?" O'Reily questioned him. "Why you letting that fucking queen get so close?"
Alvarez moved closer and asked, "You jealous, vÝbora?"
"I'm not fucking playing around."
"Neither am I. Don't be jealous, papa."
"How can you say this shit to me?" he asked and was getting angrier by the moment. "How can you think that none of this matters? All we have in Oz are perceptions."
"Because---I've never wanted to do this with Torquemada."
Alvarez said the words and then his lips immediately found the other man's in a strong and longing kiss. Their bodies had been denied this closeness and warmth for too many days---too many countless hours. Hands felt bodies over clothed fabric and tongues wrestled for supremacy between desolate walls of the prison. He stopped and looked deep into O'Reily's burning green eyes as if he was searching for something---something that D-tabs could never provide him.
"You're still the only want I want to do that with," the Latino honestly said.
"If he becomes too much of a problem, I'll have to take him out."
"How?" he asked and stepped back a little. "You know, he's got Pancamo and the wops in his back pocket. My guess is the niggers are next. He's doing what he said he would."
"His arrogance will be his death," O'Reily cryptically said. "Just like the rest of them. Look at Schillinger."
"You had something to do with Beecher stabbing him during the play?"
"I followed through with an option that was already there in a guy's head. All I had to do was sweeten the option I favored more."
"Keller, right? Why?"
"I know he and the Aryans jumped you in the gym."
"Shit, man. You did that for me?" Alvarez said because he was unsure of what he was hearing.
"For you, and Cyril, and everyone else in here. That Nazi fuck can't mess with anyone now."
"He deserved to die. He put out a hit on Cathy Jo Cutler. She's dead."
"Oh," was all O'Reily could say.
"So, I got all the stuff back."
"No fucking way. How'd that happen?"
He listened as the Latino filled him in on what McManus had said. It was unbelievable that everything had come back to him and O'Reily was genuinely happy for him. He gave him a kiss to show his happiness, but it soon morphed into some far more passionate and overwhelmingly warm. Tongues were again wrestling and this time, fingers crept under shirts to feel bare skin. Soft mumbles and grunts escaped as both became intimately reacquainted with one another.
"Hey, how are you doing about Cyril?" Alvarez stopped because the other man was still in pain.
"Damn, loco. That just knocked me out of the mood."
"Sorry. You have this---this haunted look in your eyes. I see it there now. You want to talk?"
"No," O'Reily definitively said. "Kiss me."
"I really think we should---"
"No. Not now."
It was all still so surreal to him and he just wanted to escape and feel that hint of freedom that he felt when he and Alvarez were together. He kissed the other man back hard to show him that he was finished talking and wanted to strengthen their connection. O'Reily was desperate to feel something---anything since Cyril had died. He walked around like a ghost and practically only spoke when he was spoken to.
He grabbed the Latino's package and rubbed their bodies together as tongues and teeth clashed to form some kind of pleasure. He was so sexually aggressive and Alvarez was confused but turned on at the same time. O'Reily eventually pulled away both their shirts and was working on Alvarez's pants when he was stopped. Sultry brown eyes connected to dimly lit green ones as if searching. That haunted look had completely taken over and he looked like a broken soul.
"No!" the Irishman preempted him and scolded. "No more talking. I mean it!"
He pushed Alvarez into the wall and continued to taste his lips while his hands quickly got rid of pants. In one quick motion, O'Reily was on his knees and with the other man's dick in his mouth. The warmth and hotness instantly sent a beaconing light into the maze in his head and he followed it. He wanted something far better than D-tabs could ever provide. And, he would never want to be with Torquemada like this.
O'Reily used his tongue to lick and bathe the head while he struggled to get his aching dick free from its confines. He swallowed more than half of Alvarez's length and the other man and muttered and cursed in Spanish at the pure gratification his body was receiving. Fingertips stuck into his thighs as his head moved back and forth on the pulsating pole that was invading his mouth.
His naked body was on the floor while they were both sucking and licking the most sensitive areas of the other's body. The Irishman went behind his dick and snaked out the tip of his tongue to lick and fondle the other man's balls. Alvarez grunted and the vibrations of his deep voice combined with the hotness of his mouth sent a shock through O'Reily's dick and up his spine to stimulate his brain. They were both getting so much better at this. It was not something to brag about in here, though.
D-tabs could never make him feel this sexually aroused or replace Ryan O'Reily in his mind. He felt himself close and knew that O'Reily was close too because his dick was throbbing inside his mouth. He closed his eyes and continued to suck on it as if it was his favorite cherry blow pop. He stroked the base as he licked the sensitive head. Alvarez barely had time to move his head before O'Reily's cum was spilling over his neck and chest.
The Irishman groaned at the release and continued to suck Alvarez's dick while playing with his balls. One of his hands gripped the base and began jacking him off while his tongue and lips suctioned the head. More precum leaked into his mouth and he lapped and swallowed it. O'Reily tightened the suctioning motion, much to the Latino's driven pleasure. His body was succumbing to the man that was pleasuring him.
"I'm cumming," he panted out. "I'm---"
He sucked harder and more forcefully as Alvarez blasted inside his mouth. The sticky liquid coated the inside of his mouth before he began swallowing it down. The Latino was too gone by the gratification and continued assault on his dick initially to notice what was happening. O'Reily nursed on the head as the rest of cum slid down his throat. It tasted more salty than anything else, and his mind was blank as to what he was doing.
He kept sucking with his eyes closed as Alvarez softened inside him mouth. His mind was detached from his body and he was in so much pain that it was unbearable. Cyril's death had left a gaping hole in his heart and it felt like his whole body was caving in on itself. O'Reily finally caught himself and spit the Latino's dick out of his mouth. He was mortified by what he believed had just happened. It was impossible.
"Um---" Alvarez said but did not know where to go with it as the other man got off him.
"Shit. Did that just happen? Alvarez, tell me I didn't---right now!" he was confused and angry with himself.
"Jesus fucking Christ!"
"Hey---hey, let's talk about it," Alvarez moved closer to him and said.
"No! No. It happened. That's it."
"I'm worried about you. That look you get---"
"Don't," O'Reily came back and said as he started to get dressed. "I'm fine."
"Ryan, talk to me. It's me---Miguel."
"Keep me up on Torquemada. You'll know when the next meet is."
O'Reily did not bother to look back before he slipped past the door and left Alvarez in thoughts of anxiety and worry over him. He walked as fast as he could away from the storage closet with no destination in mind. He did not need to talk---he did not need help. But, O'Reily had done something he was positive he would never do. The thought of it alone made him sick and he held his stomach as he ran into a nearby bathroom and threw up in the sink. It felt like his body was rejecting Miguel Alvarez.