My fic for the Cuff ‘Em, Vamp ‘Em, or Just Make ‘Em Come Already Kink and Cliché Multi-Fandom Challenge. (It came quickly, surprising me, in the wee hours of an insomniac night after a sleepless week. Be afraid.)

Mucho kudos to the organizers, who did a fabulous job, and compiled extremely spiffy lists of naughtiness that will be helpful, even in the future. Also, there were an insanely wonderful number of sign-ups, and thus should be many other, much better, Oz offerings from people other than me. ;)

Fandom: Oz
Title: Sweet Motherfucking Dreams
Pairings: Simon Adebisi/Ryan O'Reily, Simon Adebisi/Miguel Alvarez, Simon Adebisi/the former Mrs. Adebisi/Ryan O'Reily (It's a drug induced dream sequence, if that helps explain it any, heh.)
Rating: Drugs, sex, and bad words abound.
Summary: Set during "The Tip". Inmate Simon Adebisi, who is going through involuntary withdrawal, enjoys some hallucinatory dreamtime in the hospital ward after getting a little pharmaceutical help from fellow inmate Miguel Alvarez.

Notes: It's mentioned briefly that Adebisi has/had a wife, and it's vaguely alluded to that they are no longer married. To my knowledge after checking episodes and transcripts and pestering people, I couldn't find a name, and I don't think we ever see her either, so I made the name and details up. I didn't read every transcript though, since I would then have run out of time to write fic, so I may have missed it. Also: The Adebisi/Ryan neck kiss during the riot, and Miguel sharing his pills (including the head pat and "Sweet dreams, motherfucker") are all from canon. Hee.

In case anyone unfamiliar with Oz stumbles across this story, and would like a better idea of what everyone looks like -- a badly made header for the story, with pictures of the participants, is here.

Kink prompts: something with leather, voyeurism
Additional kinks: bondage, mild exhibitionism



**

Sweat. Pain. Itch of electric bugs under his skin. Crawl, crawl, crawling around his skull. Needed to get away. Simon opened his mouth to protest and just couldn't close it. Moaning out the irritation, squirming in his confinement. Squeak and rattle in the dark. Maybe his eyes were closed. Sandpaper rough flutter opening them. Dim room.

Trapped on the rickety uncertainty of metal and thin mattress. What had those motherfuckers done to him?

His body bucked up, writhing, without his mind commanding it. He could feel his voice, vibrating his throat. Scratchy.

He could feel…fingers at his lips.

Pill on his tongue.

Pill.

Relief.

He closed his mouth around it, covetous, even as those fingers stroked his jaw to make him swallow. Good, good, good. He sucked down that pill gratefully. Didn't care what it was. Needed anything.

Pat of hot dry skin to his head came with a voice containing a scratch all its own. "Sweet dreams, motherfucker."

Simon smiled. Yes. Sweet.

Time slipped back away. Dark behind his lids.

The itch faded. The bad scratching of his brain, the clenching strain of uncontrolled muscles…were all swept away on a soft tide of sweet blanketing warmth.

Agony was an unreachable memory, blocked out by the so fucking good ride back in his veins. In his head. Nothing but nice here now.

Where was here?

Hospital ward. Simon could see better now, dim light, sleeping forms. They'd strapped him down…tried to control him.

He tugged experimentally on his wrist. Tight leash, wrapped around his skin. Giving him a few inches and nothing more. Those thick institutional straps bound his wrists. Confining him. It felt good now. Caress of leather. Nice and sturdy.

Everything felt good now. He was…in the clouds again. A toothpaste happy face grin split his mouth.

But he was alone with a bunch of fucking sick sleepers. Confined by yourself wasn't as fun, not when you couldn't reach out.

As thought passed through mind, there it was. Another presence, brought to him by need.

That raspy voice back in an echo reaching his ear.

"Sweet dreams…sweet dreams..."

Simon turned his head, chasing it…and he had company. Standing next to his bed.

The sinewy little spic with the fresh scar marring that pretty face. The beautiful boy that gave him the beautiful pill.

He was leaning close with that echo, grinning. "…Motherfucker." Finishing, turning the echo of the words into a stark reality. A seductive growl rolling right onto Simon's skin with the caress of hot breath.

Felt like being touched by floating clouds. Dense and moist. High, high up with the pretty spic.

"Alvarez." Simon reached out, wanting to feel -- but Alvarez was a fast cat, springing back from his hand.

Just a whisper of his fingers over retreating tight abs -- caught up and held by his tight, tight leather leash. That nice tug on his wrist denying him. Challenging him.

Alvarez wouldn't come back in range. Tease.

"You tie me up?" Simon asked, amused, thrusting out his chin with the question. Surprised at his lips forming words.

The spic was always a tease. Like now. Showing you slices. Preening. No shirt covering that toffee colored torso, but low slung pants still keeping part of that body out of reach. Look, look. No touch.

Simon rolled his wrists in the thick-banded worn leather cuffs. This game was full of tease. Control and test. Bait and offer. Hot taste of possible danger stemming from his power being caged around someone so slippery. This one…wasn't really dangerous though. Not to Adebisi.

Alvarez shook his head, slow movement drawing Simon's attention back. Rough pretty boy was smirking as he hopped up on the cot next to Simon's. "Wasn't me, hermano. It was her."

Her? Dr. Nathan? Pretty Latina doctor messing around with pretty boy?

Alvarez turned his arm to illustrate, holding out his forearm. The black outline of the curvy naked woman that lived there jumped out vividly at Simon, painted on the skin. She winked at him, before Alvarez moved her, pointing to the end of Simon's bed.

Simon's eyes followed to land on…

Gina. The sweet memory of the woman was lingering at the end of his bed. His wife. Ex. Ex. Gone and lost. She had done this, tying him up, tying him down. It was how she had caught him.

She was made real again by the yearning. Miss her, see her again here in the clouds. Sight for sore eyes in gauzy light dancing over that dark skin. Wearing that nice shining red bra and panties that fit her curves so well. Scraps of fabric. Simon reached out, feeling that chafe across his wrists like another caress. A constant one.

But she stayed there at the end of the bed, out of his reach, with that smile of control. "You miss me?"

"Dayum." The low whistle of Alvarez at her appearance sliced through the air. "You can tie me up any time, baby."

"She ain't yours." He reached for the gruff warning, holding the pleasure of the knowledge.

Gina tilted her head. "I'm not yours anymore, either."

"Come on, baby…you know I miss you." Simon pleaded with his own charm, still reaching and being held. Torture with that soft hum in his blood. It made his wishes come true, but left him locked out of their reach.

She just shook her head, teasing grin playing on her mouth, that spark in her eyes another light in the room. Untouchable. Sweet painful denial just part of the game.

But a long skinny frame appeared out of the shadows behind her, slinking out like it had been part of them, male hand and wiry arm wrapping around her waist before the light moved to include the intruder. He was not a lost memory.

O'Reily. The pretty white boy with the ass.

"I can't believe you lost this…mmm…" O'Reily hummed his pleasure and desire over Gina's skin with that hot little noise, his pale hand slipping over the dark mahogany skin of Simon's wife, teasing along the edge of those skimpy little panties.

Simon jerked harder on the restraints, feeling pain of a different kind. The kind that left nice sore spots in the morning. "Hey! You back off, pretty boy." Threat leaping in his voice, speeding his blood, filling his smile with joyous ferocity.

Now this was danger. A hint felt thrumming in his veins, feeding the pound of his heart. The visual turning him on that much more. The strong needy slither of those hands over soft skin. O'Reily exploring what Adebisi couldn't. That hot picture and the slice of anger and jealousy made Simon's desire sharper. He was held there, watching the other heated man taking from his wife as she melted into the touch. Seeing her gasping because of the sharp pretty white boy that had surprised Simon with the match of that dark cruel mind. Smart and without mercy, playing only for himself.

O'Reily was a tease of another kind. Fully clothed. Not naked with his Gina, but making her purr all the same. Long body wearing that tight black tank and pants grinding against her.

"Shhh…" Soothing whisper from Gina as she finally moved, crawling onto the bed.

Nice, nice. Could he touch her now? Was she real enough?

They could play this too. Pale, dark, dark. Male, female, male. Hard, soft, hard. Slipping together, rubbing and twisting. Wanted that.

Nails dug into his legs. Scratch, scratch, scratch, skittering over his skin. Good electricity this time. Lightning in the clouds. Where had his blanket gone? Fuck that, he liked it better this way. Gina slithering over him with those long feminine fingers, a burn that spread through him. Sharp in the fog.

"Yeah, that's it. Come here and give me a kiss." He didn't touch. Holding back that urge. Caging the beast of his lust. Nice burn of straining against it. He coaxed instead. Waiting. Afraid she would pull away. Disappear.

He felt his wrists suddenly caught by those soft hands, an extra measure, pressing him into the cold metal bars of the bed. Spread out in offering, his nice strong body up for her taking. Soft, soft on his lips. That sweet taste he had missed so much. Couldn't grab, feel her under his palms, so he invaded with his mouth. Plunge into wet warmth, slip of her tongue. Feeling it go straight to the flesh under the thin fabric of his boxers. That shiver as he got hard. Always did for her.

He felt the cot continue to shiver with him. Opened his eyes to see…sneaky Irishman had followed her. Curled over her body from behind. That smart hot mouth sucking along her neck. Close enough for Simon to taste O'Reily's breath with hers. That tight black tank gone from pale torso now, as Simon saw hints of pale skin and firm body behind the curves of woman.

"Still want me to back off?" O'Reily. That mouth always teasing, taunting, challenging, when he knew he had the upper-hand.

Simon was distracted by his girl. Could feel her. Real. Back here, rubbing down into him, so light. Those scratches at his neck now as she held him there. "No …you stay." Eyes closing as he lost himself in the flight of relief. Pretty, pretty pills. Bodies. The forceful thick restraints, musk and rub of worn leather at his wrists, tugging him back. Holding him there tightly. The yearn to touch, touch, touch being denied was a whole other fun ache feeding his heat.

Felt a soft touch at his lips. More, more. He dove back into that kiss, eyes staying closed so he could just lose himself there. Until he felt the sharp sting of a bite to his lower lip. Spark. Kiss turning clashing and sharp. The thrill of challenge. Opened his eyes to see…

O'Reily.

Gina had faded and gone back to memory. He was alone there under that dangerous teasing white boy now. New taste. New smell. Sharp and long. Green eyes looked surprised too. Whatever his disappointment at losing that sweet soft woman, Simon reveled in seeing Irish taken off guard. It turned his own sharp mouth into a grin.

"Now *that's* fucked up." That rough voice drifted in from the side again. Alvarez, still sitting on the other cot, propped back languidly and observing. Laid out like a platter. Too far to reach.

"I'm no fag." Simon stated, matter of fact, enjoying the body against his without care.

O'Reily sat up, straddling him with that sneaky lean body. He stared down at Simon for a second, before shrugging and staying where he was.

"You sure? Because you're feeling kind of gay." O'Reily exposed him to that smirk, pressing down. Playing. Good weight on him where he needed touch.

Simon thrust his hips up into it, riding this, lifting that body a little with his strength, feeling it. Still hard in his boxers. Nice pressure just making his pleasure build. "You do what you gotta do." Simon drawled, feeling his smile as he reached out over those sharp hips.

Yes, yes. Within his cuffed grasp, just at the edge of stinging sore reach, but there. Fingertips just dancing over the softer, flatter curve of white boy's ass. Not Gina…but he was here. He was a clothed challenge.

He was another tight grip on Simon's hands, pressing them away. "I told you, keep your hands off my ass."

Simon fought just long enough to feel it. To enjoy the struggle. He could win, even cuffed and floating, he was much stronger than pretty boy. But he let O'Reily win to keep that friction causing weight on him. The raw sting of giving up to another, even by choice, chafed so good here. Rare.

"Good man." Ryan approved as Simon's hands found the metal bars of the cot. Gripping them tight.

He was rewarded with that dip of O'Reily's head, hot stripe of that tongue puckering his nipple. Wet harsh slide echoing over his skin.

More surprises. Simon laughed with them, feeling it deep in his gut and radiating out.

Usually, O'Reily teased, but didn't really like to play. But even when Simon crossed lines, trying to provoke, to intimidate, the Irishman showed no fear. That tall wiry body wasn't one to flinch away. Always solid and standing his ground under Adebisi's appraising gaze, under the occasional slip of his hand. Even under the brush of his lips. Pretty white boy kept close, used it, manipulating with every inch of skin and breath. Simon liked that, it made it fun. Someone who didn't cower and give in was as entertaining as someone who did. O'Reily showed teeth, had power that clashed with Simon's even as it could slither and meld with his at the same time.

Simon could taste the memory of that soft sweaty neck under his lips, feel it like an echo of the riot. Spreading remembrance of his pleased kiss to the back of pale neck in his veins, even as here and now that head stayed dipped down, teeth scraping over his nipple. O'Reily hadn't flinched then either.

Simon's gaze slid back to the side. Hard little Latino was laid out still. Propped back up on his elbows behind him, legs kicked out wide. All heat spread open. Hand stroking over that hard stomach. Watching them. Enrapt eyes a dark blaze. The heat reached Simon, left him basking in it. Soaking it up.

"You like watching? We pretty, huh?" Simon drawled out, his breath slipping away from him as rough hands searched over his ribs. O'Reily was always grasping, grabbing, and holding tight.

"Fuck you." The Latino reacted, that smooth body flowing to sit up straight.

Yes, yes. Alvarez wanted. It was plain to see.

Husky laughter danced over Simon's skin, falling from the Irishman's mouth. O'Reily flowing up too, with the Latino, sitting up on Adebisi again. It took away the lap of tongue and sting of teeth, but brought more of that sweet pressure to the ache of Simon's balls with that tight body still resting on his dick. Good, good boy.

"What the hell are you laughing at? You're the one mounting a dick." Alvarez scoffed mildly at O'Reily. Spark alive in brown eyes. He wanted to play.

Green eyes fixed on the Latino. Simon could only watch, trapped by that smooth clamp on his wrists. Leather made supple and soaked with the sweat of everyone who had struggled here before him. "I think he do like watching us." Simon let out the amused observation...half-hoping to provoke a fight. That would feel good too. They had warred over the Irishman's support earlier. Simon had won.

"You two going to fight again? You think you can get him on your side this time, eh, little Miguel?" Simon taunted easily. Words drifting, as he stayed watching. He wanted to feel the play of electricity between the two again. He wanted the tingle of it over his skin. Those gazes, one of cool calculation, one of pure cocky passion, meeting in a lock of wills.

He got…fire locked on him instead. A different kind of burn that made him grin at provoking it. Indignation, Alvarez pushing his shoulders back as he sat up even straighter. Being a big man. "Fuck you." Repeat of his earlier words, filled with more passion, as Alvarez kicked out, rattling the bed.

Simon just laughed as it rattled right through him. Shaking vibration stroking the hum coursing through him.

Simon shrugged, feeling his confinement, but so far from worry as he looked up into the sharp grin of grey-green eyes. "You ain't got nothing to offer him, he won't play on your side." Simon explained to Alvarez without taking his eyes off of his prize.

O'Reily agreed with a press back closer of that body. Skinny flat chest sticking to his sweat again. Little lick of that hot hot tongue over Simon's throat.

"He plays with me, because I have power." Simon said, his own grin shining again, feeling it in the swell of his dick. Harder. He had that power even when tied up. Living in him. Captured in his lion heart. Harder. Rubbing against that wiry frame. Experiencing that other long hot hardness digging against his body, wearing a shiver groove there.

Miguel's snort of amusement sailed over them. "Yeah, for someone who plays with you, he sure does like standing by while you're tied up."

Simon caught another memory floating by. O'Reily, with the prag by his side, leaving Adebisi tied up and aching for a fix. But Simon knew better than to rely on the mick. Didn't really hold it against him. It just made him more amusing. More fun to tangle with. Tangle, tangle, tangle, like they were doing now with dirty mouths and long limbs.

Simon could feel Alvarez slip closer, standing up. Sneaky stroll. Adebisi rolled up into the press of those slippery Irish hips insistently. Chasing that hot electric rush spreading through his clouds with more urgency. Needed to take more. His movement demanding it with ease. Had to get those hips back under the reaching scraping dig of his fingers, enjoying the tight painful pull on his wrists as he fought for that touch and won.

But it was too much for teasing white boy. Those thin lips above that tiny pale scar parted in a damp uncontrolled whisper of a breath...before O'Reily denied them both, face hardening at the last second. It took effort though. Simon could see it. Feel it in that last wonderfully hard instinctive thrust against him even as the rest of that body and mind finally pulled away. Bad shake of the cot signaling the loss of that weight

Touchy, touchy coward. O'Reily always pulled back on the promises whispered by that body. Simon laughed richly as Ryan just snorted in forced disgust, backing out of range of Simon's tethered searching hand.

"Hands off my ass. You deaf, Adebisi?" O'Reily was far out of reach now, standing up and away behind walls of denial.

"Nah." Simon said with a taunting laugh and a roll of his head into the pillow away from that angry stone face. "You just too pretty not to touch." Too true. Even as the loss of that body stung, Simon hadn't been able to stop trying to grab more.

The Latino's laughter came from much closer. Close enough to feel that breath over his flushed skin again. Yes, yes. Push one away, the other got closer. Simon didn't care which was there as long as there was heat, contact. Come, come and play little one...

Alvarez was leaning there. Crouching in promise, hands on the rail, brushing restraints and Adebisi's arm. Leather and skin.

"He is a fucking tease, ain't he?" Alvarez observed with a smirk that brought that nice hot glare from O'Reily blazing over Adebisi, focusing on the Latino. That white-hot antagonism and hungry connection back sparking between brown and green eyes.

So good to just soak in...better when Brown Eyes went further. Playing a game with Green Eyes, taunting with the smooth glide of those graceful sneaky fingers over Simon's arm. Lightning in his fog. Down, down, moving steady as Alvarez watched O'Reily more than him. Simon wanted to laugh again but it turned into a groan as that touch danced over his stomach. Dipping and playing around the waist band of his boxers.

"Yeah...you show him, little one..." Simon urged as his head pressed back into the pillow. Need building through that pleasant float, pulsing in him with the now heavy beat of his blood.

"Shut the fuck up." Low and dismissive as that wish of sweet dreams, but it didn't stop the slither of that hand.

Simon spread his arms out, the few inches they could go, feeling his trap around him with a grin. "Make me." He grinned wide as Alvarez didn't slink away.

That thieving hand kept moving down to take Simon's persistent cock in his hand. Another dry hot restraint, encircling his flesh. Tugging just the same. Rough beautiful slide as Simon groaned and his shudder surge of muscles stretched those restraints to soreness again, shaking the bed as he braced there and lapped it up.

Sweet, sweet...

***

The ache in Alvarez's shoulder wasn't dulled. Not really. He could technically feel it, but he didn't give a fuck anymore. He was cloudy and perfect. His gunshot wound wrapped in floating gauze. Finally able to close his eyes, drift off.

Only problem was…that big fucking Nigerian wailing. He was still making noise. Miguel had slipped him a free pill, seeing the restless sweat and hearing that agony of withdrawal. Fat fucking good being nice did Miguel. Sure, Adebisi *was* quieter now, but the softer, deeper noises he was making were a lot more fucking disturbing. He sounded *happy*. Too fucking happy. The kind of happy that led to stained sheets.

Miguel curled in on himself and tried to ignore it, turning away firmly from the noise. He wanted to let it drift away, and slip into the dark.

He screwed his eyes shut tighter when he thought he heard something a hell of a lot like a name groaned out. O'Reily. His pale skinny ass was still locked away in Solitary.

Miguel tried to stop listening to the sounds as a whole. The last thing he needed was to string together any more names, or fully experience those soft grunting moans. As that muffling comfort of the drug wrapped around him tighter...some of it still slipped through. Alvarez's fingers dug into his pillow as the noise intensified briefly.

A long low moan intruded right into his fog. "Aaa...Alva--

Oh HELL no.

Miguel's hand clenched, moving like lightening, even through the pain and drugs, to violently pull the pillow over his ear. That was not the fucking thank-you he deserved for his kindness. He kept one hand clamped tightly down on thin pillow to block out the noise as the other searched for the pills. He managed to pull them out of his nearby robe, and pop the lid one-handed out of sheer desperate determination.

Another quickly gulped pill and Miguel finally shuffled off to sleep, that pillow kept firmly wrapped around his head.

**

End

**



Thanks to dustandroses for naming something leather in Oz. Even though I had already thought of it, her saying it again for some reason sparked something where me thinking of it had not. Much gratitude to cheights for her comments and opinion, without which I would not have had the balls to post this insanity.