Vern had seen Keller around in Gen Pop twice; he'd only talked to him once. All the negotiations for Keller's little payback job had been handled by Metzger. Sending Mark away to work off his aggression, Vern stepped closer to Keller. They hadn't been this close since Lardner. Now he stood close and took a deep breath. Keller had been working out, and the smell of fresh sweat transported Vern back all those years to their cell in Lardner. He could smell the sweat and the fear and the damn sweet youth again. He could smell the semen that stained the sheets. Maybe it was time to get another prag.

Sight

Peeking around the pillar, Vern watched Keller throw Beecher around the mat. Keller's body had changed a lot since he was seventeen. The first time Vern saw him, Keller'd been on the edge of manhood. Those shoulders had been just as broad, but his chest hadn't caught up yet and it looked sunken. The prison issue pants hung off skinny hips and clung to that ass. Vern was pretty sure it was the ass that got Keller pinned to the wall by some big nigger looking for a bitch.

Keller was different now, Vern could see that. And it wasn't just that crazy Jesus tattoo. No, Keller was bigger and stronger, but he still owed Vern. If Vern looked hard enough, he'd see the scrawny punk who gave it up to the guy who saved him. Yeah, Vern figured he'd seen enough.

Touch

It was painfully clear to Vern that Tobias Beecher was behind Hank's death. So when they told him that Keller had confessed, he wanted to believe it was a lie. And then he wanted to kill Keller. He remembered the first time Keller had sucked his dick. His hands had pushed on Keller's shoulders, forcing the kid down to kneel. He'd slipped his hands up to Keller's neck as he'd slipped his dick into Keller's mouth. He could have broken the kid's neck at anytime. Vern thought he should have done just that.

Taste

Vern pounded into Adam Guenzel's ass, hands gripping and clawing at the boy's shoulders. Fucking Beecher had actually come through, imagine that; and all because he was in love with Keller. Vern reached forward to twist his fist in Guenzel's hair. Seeing the dark strands wrap around his fingers, his mind fed him an image of Keller, younger, more hair, more vulnerable. Every night at Lardner, Vern would take Keller. He'd tell the kid to hold on tight to the bunk frame, lean him over, and slide into that tight ass. He'd fuck him until Keller was covered in sweat, shoulders shaking from the strain of holding on so tight. Then, right before coming, Vern would grab Keller by the hair. It was longer then, brushing the collar of his shirt, even curling a bit in the heat of the summer. Using the hair like a handle, Vern would pull back, stretching Keller's neck until he could push forward and lick at the sweat. Vern could taste himself covering Keller, his sweat overlaying Keller's, and he'd come before he even got his tongue back in his mouth.

Just the thoughts were enough to push Vern over the edge. Still, there'd be plenty of time to see what Guenzel tasted like, later.

Sound

The shank bit deep, and Vern knew he was going to die. He expected to see his life flash before his eyes, or at least the parts of his life that concerned Tobias Beecher. Hate that pure should be memorialized in death. Instead, he found himself remembering the first night he'd fucked Keller in Lardner. That sweet, young ass wrapped around his dick. And he remembered Keller looking at him after, and talking. He heard it like it was happening.

"I'll never forget what you did to me." That's what Keller said.

Vern could hear his own voice. "You mean for you, don't you?"

With darkness edging his vision, Vern realized Keller meant what he said the first time.