Fanfiction: OZ

Good to Be King


Subject Info: Adebisi/O'Reily
Feedback: Love it !
Highlight to view warnings: Short-duration, fantasized violent non-con
Notes: Takes place during S1. My usual thanks kitestringer for beta. Written for tick_tick in the 2006 Oz Magi holiday gift exchange.


Adebisi wakes up jonesing. He's bored with napping, bored with everything. Just fucking bored. He stretches and yawns, slides on his flip-flops, and heads to the common room to find some action.

He finds O'Reily cheating some bikers at cards and sits back to watch a moment before interrupting. O'Reily is good at what he does, so slick people don't realize they've been fucked until it's too late. It makes Adebisi smile.

It's rare to find someone who thinks in a way he can relate to. Someone who can not only keep up with the turns and bends of the most elaborate schemes, but add a few twists of his own. The moment Adebisi watched O'Reily smash that first glass they fed to Nino Schibetta, he knew he'd found someone he could work with.

O'Reily's face is serious as he stares down at his cards, lower lip pouty with concentration. He's pretty. Adebisi likes him in easy touching range; to be able to stroke the soft hair at the nape of his neck whenever the mood strikes, or pull him close, laughing, high, and breathe in the sharp-sweet scent of his skin.

Yeah. A warm, thick buzz of arousal stirs in Adebisi's groin, and he knows what he feels like doing.

"O'Reily." Adebisi pitches his voice to command attention. He gets it. He always does. It's good to be king.

O'Reily glances up and Adebisi knows instantly he's in the middle of working a huge bluff on the bikers -- this is the hustle round. Adebisi keeps his own face blank. He wants O'Reily in a good mood, and taking fools at cards is easy money.

Adebisi jerks his head toward the stairs. "When you finish with this hand, we got business." O'Reily gives a barely perceptible nod, then he's back on his game.

It won't do for people to think Adebisi is actually waiting for anyone, so he wanders toward the stairs slowly, surveying the scene as he goes. The Italians huddle in Nino Schibetta's pod since the poor man's not feeling well. Schillinger pretends to read while Beecher meekly folds the laundry. The Latinos cluster around the TV, glued to a Mexican soap opera. Said and his little flock of sheep don't seem to be around. They're probably in a classroom, wasting their time.

There's nothing interesting going on. Nothing. All the more reason to get high.

Adebisi hears O'Reily's laughter and muttered curses from the bikers as the card game breaks up.

"What's going on?" O'Reily asks, hitching his sagging kitchen scrub pants up on his narrow hips as he approaches. His baby-smooth face is flushed with victory.

Adebisi gets O'Reily in whispering range before speaking. "You carrying?"

O'Reily smiles, leaning in. "What'sa matter, Adebisi, you out again already?"

"Don't fuck with me, O'Reily," Adebisi warns. Of course he's out; nothing interesting has happened for days.

"Sheez, don't get testy," O'Reily says, raising his hands calmingly. "Yeah, I'm good." He pauses and checks around for hacks, hitches his pants up again. "C'mon, this round's on me."

Adebisi follows O'Reily under the stairs, eyes trained on his skinny little white boy ass. Virgin skinny little white boy ass. Adebisi licks his lips. He's not sure why he likes to play with O'Reily so much. Maybe it's because O'Reily seems to think he's getting away with something when he teases Adebisi. His bravado is amusing.

Adebisi blocks the view with his body as O'Reily digs a fresh tit from his pocket. Adebisi watches him go through the ritual, tapping out a line on his closed fist, bending his head, closing his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. Adebisi always lets O'Reily go first. He's so thin, his metabolism so fast, Adebisi can watch the high filtering through his body. Watch his limbs loosening, mouth slackening into a hazy smile. He's pliant when he's high, playful, easy to touch.

It's time. Adebisi crowds in against O'Reily, pushing him back against the wall, deeper into the shadows under the stairs. O'Reily laughs under his breath, gives Adebisi a fake shove back before tapping out Adebisi's line. Adebisi smiles to himself. He really thinks he's in control. Adebisi decides to give him a little clue. Instead of just bending his head to O'Reily's hand the way he normally would, Adebisi grabs O'Reily's wrist, hard, trapping it in an iron grip. O'Reily startles, dilated blue eyes widening for a quick moment before he recovers.

"What the fuck are you doing?" O'Reily asks, trying to twist his wrist out of Adebisi's grasp.

"Whatever the fuck I want," Adebisi replies, flashing the broadest shiteating grin in his repertoire. He clamps down harder on O'Reily's wrist, and O'Reily stills his struggles and goes silent. His breathing has picked up -- not panic, O'Reily doesn't rattle easy -- but definite concern. He understands now.  

And one day, Adebisi's going to do it. He's going to slam O'Reily against the wall and force him to his knees, and then there will be panic. Knowing O'Reily, he'll try to talk his way out of it, increasingly desperate, promising anything, and that'll just make it hotter. Adebisi's spent plenty of time imagining O'Reily's sweet, cherry mouth wrapped around his dick. Imagining him struggle to suck and swallow, stuffed so full, stretched so wide. Oh yeah. He's pounded prags to gagging while lost in that particular fantasy.

But right now? Eh. Adebisi eases back. He can have O'Reily any time he pleases, and for now, that knowledge is enough. O'Reily won't be much fun once he's broken, and Adebisi's not done playing with him yet. He lifts O'Reily's hand to to take his snort, then kisses it lightly. O'Reily pulls back, able to yank his hand free from Adebisi's grip only because Adebisi lets him go.

"Fuck off," O'Reily says, but Adebisi can see the stoned confusion written on his face, unsure of how to react.

"Relax, O'Reily, I'm not going to take your virtue," Adebisi laughs. "Just your tits."

O'Reily watches him warily a moment longer, and then relaxes again, seemingly convinced that Adebisi was just messing with him as usual. Adebisi smiles as his high begins to hit, and he leans into O'Reily as they both slide down to the floor in a laughing heap to kill another boring fucking Em City afternoon.