AUTHORS NOTE: I know. I've been AWOL from this beautiful fandom/pairing for so long but here I am with my attempt to slowly walk back in! There's no clear set point but obviously after Vern and Keller hurt Beecher and he's back.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters

[Keller's Wish]

You sit across from me during the drugs meeting held by Sr. Peter Marie, the only reason I'm there is for you to understand and to be in a room with me longer than five seconds, and I find myself wishing that I could voice how I felt.

You've cut your blonde hair now so it's more controllable but personally, I preferred it when it was unruly and nearly falling into your eyes because of the obvious way it irritated you. You'd constantly be running your hands through it, in desperation to keep it out of your face as you listened to everyone. I don't know who you got to cut it for you but I sense if I ever find out then I'm going to break their fingers for doing something so stupid because more importantly, I enjoyed running my hands through those blonde curls. I enjoyed feeling the softness, which it was always, despite where we reside.

As if sensing that I'm looking at you, you look up and flash me that glare that you've suddenly reserved specially for me. I wish I knew what was really going on in that mind of yours when your glare vanishes and your expression is just blank. I sense the thoughts aren't innocent but they're still not the kind of thoughts I want you to have. I remember how good it once was between us and now all of a sudden I sense that you're planning on shanking me in the back every time I pass you in a dark corner. I just wish that your thoughts would be dirty again.

I wish that I'd be able to pass you in a dark corner and push you up against the wall. My hands running over your body as I whisper sweet nothings into your ear which we both know means nothing because of where we are. It's just to pass the time, right? We're both aware of this as my hand slides down your body, feeling that solid flesh that has only formed since your time behind these walls, where I can feel the quivering stomach muscles as I move lower down. My heart would skip a beat, a groan torn from my throat as you released a simple whimper of desire and desperation.

Do you wish that I could push you up against a wall?

And I wish that this was more than just me wishing.

As mush as I'd love to take it slow and seduce you, like you deserve, it would be rushed and heavy because we don't have a lot of time before the hacks realise that we're both missing and they're not as thick as we like to make out they are, especially not when it comes to us doing this. I'd tease you slowly before sliding in, your hands gripping onto the wall as I rest my head on your shoulder and still whisper those words into your ear even though I know you're no longer listening because you're lost in the moment.

In that moment, we forget that we're two prisoners in a test environment in one of America's worst prisons. We'd forget that this will never be a normal, loving relationship where we get to go on dates, meet the family and spend evenings snuggling late on the couch. We'll forget that out there, in the real world, we're both straight. You with your ex-wife and two beautiful children. Me with my three ex-wives and a string of other women whose heart I broke. Nothing matters in that moment apart from you and I.

There'd be a rush but still a level of intimacy as I reach round in front of you and stroke your length through the material of your trousers. The idea of you coming in your pants like a naughty little school boy causes me to grin as I bite down on your neck – harder than intended but I don't care because it's my mark and my mark only – causing you to growl, the sound dripping with lust and desire. As much as the idea pleases me, I need to feel you because it's been so long since you let me touch you. It's been so long since I felt your heat in my hand, in my mouth and in me.

I know it's my fault and I'd give anything to take it all back. Anything.

Together we'd create a pattern in which we're both happy with, fast and yet slow which still inspired us to believe that there was an air of romance in this dysfunctional thing we have going on, so that I'm thrusting in and out of your tightness while stroking your length, my thumb teasingly rubbing over the slit where a bead of precum would be forming. Sliding my hand out, my thumb makes it into mouth and I suck on the flesh next to your ear so you can hear my soft sounds of pleasure at the taste that's solely you. You say my name on a grunt, your hands tightening on the wall as your head falls back onto my shoulder and I can't help but notice how your eyes have darkened with passion.

It's that one look that makes me forget that I'm supposed to hate fags. It's that one look that makes me want to break down and admit that I'm madly in love with you, especially with that cane because I'm a kinky son of a bitch. It's that one look that makes me wish we could just spend every minute of every day lying together in each other's arms, naked. It's that one look that makes me realise that you are the only person out there for me. It's that one look that I wish would return to your face when you saw me rather than the homicidal glare or the empty expression because it's that one that hurts the most. The idea of you feeling nothing towards me is the most painful. I could take hatred, anger and disgust but nothing... Nothing kills me inside.

I wish you'd look at me one day with eyes so dark from passion, neither of us can see anything else and everything is forgotten.

My hand would return to it's original spot, stroking your length, because I can feel you're near now. I hear you gasping for breath, my name a soft mantra escaping your lips even though you don't want it to and your fingernails are nearly falling off from the pressure of your grip on the wall. I quicken the speed of my strokes, thrusting into you faster and when you practically choke on my name, I know I've hit that one spot that makes fireworks shoot behind your eyelids. It's a pleasure you've never known with your ex-wife. It's a pleasure so destructive, you can't help but crave it more than you've ever craved alcohols or drugs. Every time I thrust against it, your breath quickens even more which shows me that you're close to completion but not as much as when you say those precious words of "cum with me" to me.

It's all I can take. My resolve breaking as I thrust into you harder, my strokes on your length almost violent as I aim to bring us to completion together. I'm so desperate for this moment to happen that I don't even notice I'm suffering from word vomit. It seems endless streams of sweet nothings are escaping my mouth and straight into your ear as the pattern reaches it's last few beats and together, we come.

Once spent, I crash onto your back and press kisses to your neck that tastes like salt now from the slight sheen of sweat from the exertion. Turning you around in my arms, I straighten up your trousers while my lips find yours and we kiss until we're breathless because we know this is where we belong. We belong together despite it all.

I just wish that this was more than my imagination and that one day, you'll forgive me and things will be the way they were before you ever found out about... I close my eyes. It's unbearable to think about what I did to you. You never deserved that and I just wish, more anything, that you could forgive me because I know I'll never forgive myself.