(no subject)
Well, here I am, preparing this story to be linked in the 'COMPLETED' category...
Title: High Society (Pt. 28, End/Epilogue to follow)
Pairing/Characters: Casey/Zeke, a SLEW of OMCs (sorry for that... maybe I'll make a list so people can keep track... I just LOVE OMCs, what can I say?)
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): None!
Author's Note: Dedicated to the lovely gloryunderhill!
Synopsis: Set during the Great Depression, there's an industry that's ALWAYS successful, and Casey's desperate--and he's starting to like that desperation.
Previous Parts
The weather couldn’t seem to make up its mind the next day. One moment, Casey found it warm enough to sit outside on their room’s porch again, watching the sun rise into the sky; the next, a chilled gust of wind would slap his face and force him back inside. Nonetheless, he didn’t want to be anywhere else. Provincetown felt like home, more and more by the minute.
Just as Zeke had started waking, Carla had come calling to ask if they’d be taking breakfast, and of course, they’d gone for the idea. The eggs, thick slices of ham, toast, milk and coffee arrived only fifteen minutes later, which helped to wake a very-sleepy Noah. As much as Casey would’ve enjoyed eating on the porch, he wasn’t taking the chance of his food going ice cold. Breakfast was eaten in their bedclothes and on their beds amongst rumpled sheets, offering quiet, sweet comfort. There’d been no urgency or rush; if they had to, they’d rent the room another night, and perhaps another.
But they were now heading out, dressed in comfortable, casual clothing and making their steps unhurried. First things first: while Noah and Zeke made their way to find clothing shops, Casey was given the task of sending out the ‘we’re okay’ telegram to Danny. Once he did that, they could check back later for any replies. The town’s post office offered telegram services, thankfully, so Casey parted ways with the two others and walked into the building.
Only one other person was there at the front counter, sending a package. Casey planned on waiting for the man helping her, but found another worker emerge from a back room, heading over with a smile. “Hello, young man--how can I help you?” the man asked.
“Good morning. I’d like to send a telegram?” Casey said.
“All right. Fill out this slip, pay the small fee and we’ll get it out for you.”
Casey took the paper and pen handed to him, smiled and went to write:
Made it to Provincetown MA safe and sound. Hope you and Cousin Danny are faring well. Let us know how the others are, if you have talked to them. Send telegram back to post office for us to pick up. Letters in the post to follow. Love, Casey. Quick, simple and informative enough, he figured. He got the office worker’s attention and slid the slip over to him, along with the posted price. “What time do you close? I’m hoping for a reply, but we don’t have an address yet, as we’ve just come into town,” he said.
“Ah, I was going to say, you’re a new face in town,” the man said with twinkling eyes. It was a good sign, not seeing any suspicion or wariness in his face.
“Yes, me and my ‘brothers’ have come from New York City. It’s a long story,” Casey replied, making sure he smiled brightly. “Compared to how we USED to live, this town seems like a great choice to start anew.”
“That it is. I was born and raised here, myself. Mr. Jack Carter, pleased to meet you.”
Casey took his offered hand. No longer fearing their being traced and tracked by undesirables, he replied, “Casey Connor, the same.”
“And to answer your question, it’s Thursday, so four o’clock. Your telegram should be sent out soon, and if the recipient gets it before noon and replies, you just might get it by three,” Jack said.
“Good, good. I’ll be sure to return to see if we get our message,” Casey replied.
“I hope you will--go out now, take in the sights. Have a wonderful day.”
Feeling warm and safe, Casey bid the man goodbye and went back outside onto the street. He tucked his scarf closer to his throat and chin and turned left where Noah and Zeke would be meeting up with him. Though the chill made his nose feel numb, it was welcome; no matter how cold the air was, it was fresh and free of toxins, the exact opposite of New York’s. His smile grew when he saw Noah emerge from a building, looking around. He spotted Casey and waved him over.
“Hey,” Casey said after taking the last few yards in a jog.
‘Hey, great news,’ Noah said with excited signing-hands. He motioned to the building he’d just come out of, ‘Seascape Café’. ‘Zeke is in there, talking with the owner. There are some small but decent shacks on the beach they’re looking to rent, or sell.’
Yet more weight started leaving Casey’s shoulders. ‘For cheap?’
Noah made a slow nod, smiling even wider. ‘And… they’re looking for help.’ He pointed to the small sign in the window that Casey hadn’t seen, reading Help Wanted. ’They’re particularly interested in artists… like yourself.’
~*~
Micah Barton, Seascape’s owner, was an odd but extremely kind and mellow-fellow. He dressed like no other in light blue slacks and mustard-yellow shirt, a stark contrast of strange colors that Casey adored immediately. There were no stuffed-shirts here, it seemed, which made Casey reconsider his bland, usual wardrobe of plain black pants and white shirts.
It hadn’t been long into talking with the man that Micah had nodded in an all-knowing way while staring Casey down. “Yea. I like you. And if you’re as big on blank canvases as you’ve said, I wanna see your work,” he said.
Excitement wasn’t the word--elation? Ecstasy? Casey tried to look calm, cool and collected as he nodded. “I’d be glad to. This means I have the job…?”
“This means you have the job,” Micah replied. He tapped the counter of the coffee-bar with his knuckles and grinned. “Can you start tomorrow?”
“Y-Yea!” Casey said, not bothering to hide his excitement. He nodded back to the table where Zeke and Noah sat together, sipping hot drinks and staring at them intently. “And… and the housing you mentioned, when can we go take a look?”
“After-lunchtime, if that’s good?”
“Today?”
Micah’s nod almost had Casey pass out. It didn’t matter if the place was full of holes and had a leaky roof. The fact that it wasn’t just ‘housing’ but in what Micah labeled as ‘artist’s alley’ had every cell in Casey’s body ready to explode. “This is wonderful. BEYOND wonderful. We were so afraid, coming into a new place, with new people…” Casey said.
“Ah, P-Town’s not like most places--you’ll find that out,” Micah said with a wink.
~*~
The next morning, it’d be official: Casey, Zeke and Noah would be made permanent residents of Provincetown, starting a new life with a clean slate. No awkward questions had been asked by Micah, nor anyone else they’d come across in ‘artist’s alley’. Walking along the beach had been refreshing, a rebirth of sorts. People dug for clams, were sat outside with pads and pencils or strumming guitars and enjoying happy sing-alongs. Each one smiled at them as they passed, some calling out to Micah, someone well known here, apparently.
But nothing compared with the small home Micah had brought them to. It was small, yes, with two small bedrooms, one bath, a tiny kitchen… but the living room was the largest, and most attractive. It was cold and devoid of anything ‘homey’, but that would be easily rectified within just days after their moving in. The only home-improvement projects needed involved repainting the house, its outer walls saltwater-worn, and half the windows needed replacing. All of this would be covered in one opening of Zeke’s lockbox, along with the first down-payment, leaving enough for savings which would be entered into a bank account at ‘Provincetown Savings and Loan’ that afternoon. Zeke‘s identification card and birth certificate, back in the lockbox as well, would serve them well in getting their house in his name, along with the account. As long as their first payment was made the next morning, they could move in the moment money exchanged hands. Micah hadn’t hidden his pleasure in getting the place half-paid for in one shot, rather than month-to-month rent.
Casey felt like he was walking on air as they walked back through town. Judging by the expressions Noah and Zeke wore, they felt the same. It was as if their trials and tribulations no longer existed; even if they still craved to know what had become of their former ‘roommates’, Casey couldn’t dwell too much or too hard on it. They all had their lives to move on with, and he could do nothing to help anyone but Noah, Zeke and himself… which they were succeeding at, in spades.
“It’s just past three. Let’s go to the post office,” Zeke said.
“I hope they got back to us…” Casey looked ahead at the post office’s sign, crossing his fingers in his pockets. Hoping beyond hope, Casey rushed ahead, reached the door and opened it for them all to go inside. Finding Jack still there at the counter made him grin. “Good afternoon,” he said.
The man looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Ah, Mr. Connor. Good afternoon.”
“Hi. Did… we get a reply?”
“Mmm, you did; just a half an hour ago, quite quick.”
Casey took a deep breath as Jack rooted around in a box on the counter. A slip was drawn out and handed over for Casey to read, Zeke and Noah leaning in to take a look as well:
Very glad to hear from you so quickly. Uncle Xavier sends his love. Have gotten in contact with Cousin Henry who says he knows that Cousin Jamie has found his way back home. Nothing from Uncle Stephen or anyone else from home as of yet again will let you know. Stay safe sending all good wishes. Love Cousin Danny
Some of the uncomfortable knots that had been tied deep in Casey’s chest came free, making him lean onto the counter in a heap. “Oh… thank god,” he said in a breathy voice.
“I hope we hear from James, and soon,” Zeke said in a distant voice. He cleared his throat and smiled. “Should we send another?”
Noah nodded, along with Casey. “Yea--they’ll need our new address,” Casey said.
“Ah, so you HAVE settled in, have you?” Jack asked.
“Mmm, yes. It was an easy decision,” Casey replied with a smile as Jack prepared another slip for them.
~*~
Two Weeks Later
Casey settled in on the couch--an old, used one they’d gotten at a charity shop on Cook Street that had plenty of comfort left--enjoying his day off with a new canvas and his paint set. He and Zeke had spent some time with the oils the day before while Noah was shopping for camera supplies. Gone was Casey’s lack of confidence when it came to this medium; now that no doom loomed over their heads, he could concentrate fully, to put the images in his mind onto the blank rectangle in front of him.
Friends had come to them quick, as well. Their neighbors on one side consisted of a young couple, raising an extremely cute eight-month old little girl. The other side was an older man who had a lovely greenhouse set up in his backyard, which he invited the boys to come and visit. Cool Spring had shifted to a hot Summer in an instant, with fragrant flowers sending Casey’s senses sprawling. The next day, they’d be having dinner with the couple, being known to everyone as the ‘New York Brothers’, orphans that had been raised together during the hardest of times. There wasn’t an ounce of suspicion or questioning, their stories taken as truth without an issue. Casey felt a little strange, but as Zeke had said the night before as they’d kissed in light whispers…
“We’re not lying. We’re living.”
Just as Casey made the first dab of his brush to canvas, Noah emerged from the kitchen. He made his way to the chair next to the couch and sat, a plate of food in his hand. Casey smiled as he showed the chicken leg and rice it held. “After I’m done… thank you,” Casey told him.
Noah smiled and continued eating his lunch, humming with satisfaction at every bite. The radio, also bought at the charity shop, played a light ballad which urged Casey on. ‘Love,’ he thought as he made the first red circle, which would turn into a rose. He cocked his head to the side as he worked, feeling a peace come over him as he worked.
An hour later, the front door opened and Zeke walked in, returning from his job search. Judging by his expression, he’d come up empty, yet again. Casey stopped working on his painting to give him a smile. “How’d it go?” he asked, even if he knew the answer.
“Eh… nothing. Not even day labor at the docks. They’re looking for guys with experience, so… I dunno…” Zeke replied. He sat at the other end of the couch and rubbed his face. “I might try my hand at the cannery, but not today. I’m beat.”
“That’s all right, Zeke. No rush.” Casey put his brush down, shimmied down to Zeke and gave him a light kiss to the cheek. “I’m making enough, and there’s plenty in the bank. Noah made lunch, you could warm up any leftovers…?”
Zeke shrugged listlessly. “Not hungry. Thanks.”
Feeling sorry for the young man, Casey curled into his side. “I told Micah yesterday about the other artists I live with. He’s interested.”
“Hah… I’m sure he’s not interested in my scrawling.”
“So practice, you dolt,” Casey said, poking his side. Finally, Zeke smiled and curled an arm around his shoulders to pull him in close.
“We’ll see. ‘Might be worth a try.”
Noah passed through then, heading for the front of the house. He paused as he stared through the window, then smiled. ‘Mail,’ he signed.
Casey raised his eyebrows and sat up straight. “Mail?” he said. Noah left them in favor of going outside to the mailbox, sitting at the end of their front walk along the tattered, brown fencing lining their property. Casey watched through the last-to-be-fixed windows at Noah’s gathering letters; the boy rushed back, looking excited.
“Danneh!” he all but yelled as he reentered the house, waving a letter in the air.
“Oh!” Casey exclaimed. He moved away from Zeke to let Noah sit between them; the boy tore the envelope open, reached in and unfolded the contents for them to read:
Dear boys,
Well, my first official letter! It feels good to send it to an actual address, knowing you boys are safe and sound. It won’t be long ‘til me and Xavier come calling, so make sure there’s a cot set up for us when we do!
We’re doing very well here in the city. There’s been some new on the ‘home front’ when it comes to former friends. As I’d said in telegrams, Henry’s doing well. Struggling a little in trying to find work, but Xavier’s let him stay with us the last few weeks. It’s been a riot, all of us under one roof. Just like old times! Jamie’s reached family down in Virginia; he sent a telegram just last week. His brother’s taken him in and Jamie’s set to work on his farm, however struggling the farm itself is. It’s good to know that another one of us is safe. James--haven’t heard yet. I’m wondering, or HOPING, that he’s found his way home back in England, or something. It’s a long-shot, but he’d been good at saving his tips and pay. I don’t know if we’ll ever see him again.
You’ll be happy to know that from what Xavier’s managed to dig up, Stephen’s not in prison. I don’t know how he did it, but I suppose the ‘connections’ he had helped. No idea where he is or what he’s doing, but with the way he is, he’ll probably be up-and-running again with a NEW ‘playpen’ for our ‘old friends’, hah. Who knows? Again, we’ll keep you posted.
One big reason I’m writing: we ran into Cal at the street market on Fifth.
Casey paused in reading to look to Zeke; going by the clenching of Zeke’s jaw, he’d reached the same paragraph. With a swallow, Casey read on.
I hope you don’t mind that I gave him the reaming of a lifetime, haha! Oh, was he uncomfortable. But he took me aside to talk about a note, something Casey had gotten with those roses the day of the ‘surprise’. We all assumed they were from Cal, of course, but he said he hadn’t sent them. You never told me about it, but he says he knows who wrote it and that it was key to our sudden eviction. He’d been at United Bank to start new accounts from his work, and he had papers signed by a certain someone, on someone's last day at the bank, and he said the handwriting looked awfully familiar. This ‘someone’ is now in Boston--does the name ‘Dennis’ ring a bell?
Casey parted his lips and felt his insides shake with a violence. Dennis… his last night at Stephen’s, the anger and vengeful sex… the café run-in where awful, nasty words had been exchanged…
“Oh my fucking god,” Zeke muttered, also reaching this new piece of information. Casey turned to look at him, finding a shocked expression on Zeke’s face. “Dennis. Oh fuck, of course…”
Noah, too, wore a wide-eyed look on his face. Casey trembled and tried reading on, but his stomach was clenching, skin aflame with both rage and shame… “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault,” he said in a soft, quaking voice.
“Casey--no, stop--”
“It’s my FAULT!” Casey stood up in a shot and started pacing around the room, darting his eyes to the boys every few seconds. “Dennis--that last night we were in the bedroom, I’d insulted him to no end, then the café. The café, where we taunted him in secret while his g-goddamned FIANCEE sat--”
“Stop, NOW,” Zeke said in a firm, strong voice. “You did nothing at all to make that bastard do this. Nothing.”
‘He would’ve done something like this, with or without you,’ Noah added. ‘He was a bastard before you showed up--NO one liked him.’
Casey tried letting all of this sink in, but his heart still kept plummeting to a dark, sad place. He went to their old rickety chair across from the couch and sat down, arms folded over his stomach. “You don’t understand. The last night he was there, when he took me upstairs… it was to…” Casey took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “…Have revenge--for what happened in the fuck-parlor, Cal and… fuck.”
“What did he do?” Zeke asked.
“He’d said he wasn’t going to touch me, because I was dirty--that he’d wasted his time at Stephen’s, he was getting married, but… he DID touch me. He fucked me, because I taunted him into it. I told him that he was a liar, that he loved young boys. Younger than what’s reasonable, and it seemed to--strike a chord,” Casey explained. He reopened his eyes to look at them with a solid gaze. “Don’t tell me that didn’t at least ‘contribute’ to what he pulled.”
“He’s a prick. Okay? If Stephen had known that he’d planned on doing that, he would’ve thought twice about letting it happen,” Zeke said. He made an angry sniff and shifted in his seat, as if he was sitting on a tack. “I know I would’ve sent him packing. NO-one does that to you.”
Noah sat up and held up his hands, as if trying to clear the air of anger and frustration. It seemed to work; Casey looked to him as the wisest of them, the one who only ‘spoke’ when it was important enough to. The boy began signing, ‘Whatever he did, it is done. That’s all there is to it. Fuck, he’s done us a favor,’ he said with firm, desperate movements to accentuate the words. ‘Let’s not pretend that we were wholly happy at Stephen’s. We made good friends, Stephen was great to us, but if you had a choice, would you go back or stay here?’
“What’d he say?” Zeke asked. After Casey shook out a sigh, he translated. Zeke began nodding slowly. “He’s right.”
“And what of the others? Danny lucked with Xavier and now Henry’s joined them, and Jamie‘s back home… but James? Stephen, he may be out of the woods but he COULD be on the streets. And the fucking Mafia, who knows if they’re looking for us?” Casey rambled, questions flying from his lips at top speed.
“It’s doubtful, all right? It’s not like they can’t find someone to kick up another ‘boy-business’. Maybe they’ll get Stephen working for them again, in some way; he WAS friends with a few of those guys,” Zeke said.
‘We all knew the risk we were taking in working there, Casey. If it hadn’t been Dennis blowing the whistle, the new commissioner would have stepped in somehow. Our time was up, that’s all,’ Noah said.
Even if he was still torn and sad, Casey’s raging began to dissipate and he calmed. His eyes were set on the floor as he said, “I want to kill him.” Noah said nothing, Zeke’s only reply that of lighting three cigarettes for them all.
~*~
“Noah’s off to send the letter off.”
Casey nodded and continued washing dishes. “Good,” he told Zeke, who leaned on the sink’s counter and stared at Casey. The silence that stretched between them felt stifling; Casey looked to him and frowned in seeing Zeke’s smile. “Um… what?”
“You’re so domestic,” Zeke said. “I love it.”
“Well, since everyone I live with leaves their dinner things out ’til they mold…”
“Aw, that only happened once. And I apologized profusely and made it up to you--didn’t I?”
Casey shook his head but he couldn’t help a tiny smirk. Zeke had, in fact, erased Casey’s anger at finding three plates stuck together with green globs of yuck in taking him to the bedroom, giving him the ’loving of a lifetime’. “I can take this on as a household chore, as long as you clean the bathroom,” Casey said. “HATE that chore.”
“A’right, sounds fine.” Zeke sniffed and moved closer, until his arm met Casey’s. “Noah’s gonna check out that camera shop, too.”
“Oh, all right.”
“You’re… really thick, know that?”
Casey frowned and turned away from the dishes entirely; Zeke’s grin had widened. “How’s that, Tyler?” he said.
“Figure it out. Noah’s making sure he spends some time in town--now, why would he do that?” Zeke asked. Before Casey could answer, Zeke moved in, dipping his head down to make their lips meet. Realization found Casey, who broke away to chuckle.
“You’re awful. You kicked him out?” he said.
“No, he volunteered. He knows you need to blow off some steam, and what better way to do that then…” Zeke drifted off and slid a hand down between them, stopping at Casey’s belt. He tugged at it until the loose strap was pulled from the belt loops and slapped against his hand. Casey stood shock-still to let the young man pry the buckle open and whip it away from Casey’s waist in a swish. A grunt escaped Casey’s throat when Zeke put both hands under the hem of his t-shirt and held his slim hips tight. “Know what we’ve never done?”
“W-What?”
Zeke’s smile went devilish as he pulled Casey with him into the living room. The volume knob on the radio was turned up, letting the song--‘Stardust’, come through loud and clear. Zeke’s hands returned to Casey’s waist and he began moving to the music in soft, barefoot slides. Staring into Zeke’s eyes, Casey sighed and made a soft smile. “Dancing, eh?”
“Mmm, dancing,” Zeke replied.
Casey took a deep breath through his nose; his arms lifted to slide his wrists over Zeke’s shoulders. “And here I thought… you starting to undress me was the promise that we’d be making love for hours on end,” he mock-whined.
“Oh, that’ll happen, with promises. But first… we dance.” Zeke held Casey to him even closer, letting their stomachs meet; he dipped down again to press their foreheads together, making small kisses on Casey’s lips. “I’ve always wanted to dance with you.”
“Yea?”
“Mmhmm.”
A sigh shook from Casey’s lips as Zeke brushed his over them. “I love you, Zeke,” Casey couldn’t help himself from saying.
Zeke put a hand to Casey’s arm and slid it up to the boy’s wrist. He squeezed it before sliding back down, up again. “I’d go through that night, over and over again… as long as we always end up here,” he said in a quiet, deep voice. He moved them in a slow circle, not minding when Casey stepped on his foot in the process. He merely smiled wider in Casey’s apology and moved his head back. “Want to do our favorite dance?” he asked.
“What’d that be?” Casey asked; he sighed happily as Zeke pulled away and took Casey’s hands; he walked backwards towards the bedroom hallway, caramel eyes set on Casey’s blues. He backed into the bedroom which held two beds, where if one looked close enough, they’d see that the one on the left was rarely used. The mattress nearest the window always had rumpled sheets, a product of two boys residing in it in the night, holding each other close. They didn’t need a bed frame, just a soft place to sleep, nap, relax, make love…
Zeke dropped down on it, taking Casey with him. Casey grinned as he put his thighs over Zeke’s waist, all to sit upon him lightly. With his hands braced over Zeke’s shoulders, Casey moved down to resume kissing his lover, one of his favorite things. Gone were the undertones of other men, leaving Zeke fresh and clean. Casey hoped the traces of their time at Stephen’s had left him, as well. While he’d find himself lamenting the fact that he couldn’t have given himself as a virgin to Zeke, Zeke was in the same spot--fair and balanced, where the bad memories didn’t need to intrude. Not here, where they’d keep windows open even on cold days, all to hear the ocean roaring outside.
The shirt Casey wore was being pulled up to his shoulders; he flexed them and stretched his arms out for ease-of-exit, letting Zeke remove the clothing. His nipples went hard instantly, not needing the slightest brush of fingers upon them to excite the skin. But Zeke worshipped them anyway, one of his favorite things being Casey’s soft, pleased cooing in them being touched. Zeke shifted his hips to the side, putting Casey on the bed and facing him. “Love you,” Zeke murmured as he began kissing Casey’s chest, his tongue emerging to swirl around the swollen nubs. Casey made a closed-mouth moan and hugged Zeke’s head, his fingers running through the dark, smooth hair upon it. Casey’s comfortable denim slacks were being tugged down; the waist was loose enough to slide off without buttons or zip being undone. It felt like silk, the fabric moving down his thighs, calves then off. They were tossed behind Zeke without a care and the older boy stopped his worshipping to move onto his hands. Now hovering over Casey, a dreamy smile crossed his lips. “Know what I am?”
“Mmm… what?” Casey said as he enjoyed the hand now running over his cheek.
“Happy. For the first time in my whole life…” Zeke moved down to kiss Casey then bend back up. “…Happy.”
Feeling drugged by Zeke’s voice, Casey opened his thighs and ran one over Zeke’s. His foot was moved to the back of Zeke’s knee where it held on tight. “Take your shirt off,” Casey told the older boy, who smiled and did so, revealing his strong, thin-muscled chest and belly, which went concave in his moving back to Casey. Skin-to-skin, Zeke returned to their kissing, making it harder and more desperate. He held onto the sides of Casey’s head, as if thinking Casey would try to wiggle and move away--like hell. Casey hooked his thumbs into Zeke’s surprisingly non-ticklish underarms and splayed his fingers along the start of his shoulder-blades. After a few minutes of hot, wet kissing, Casey pushed one hand to Zeke’s waist and fumbled the button and zip of his pants open. They were tugged down in awkward, hasty movements, until they were low enough for Casey to remove with his feet. Zeke kicked them away and pushed down upon his lover, full-body contact given. Their cocks met and pressed together in hard rolls of hips; Casey’s ass clenched in want, his breath coming out in hard pants. “I’m y-yours… please, Zeke… make love t-to me,” he said with difficulty. His chest heaved against Zeke’s as he began kissing Zeke again, a hungry tongue going deep into Zeke’s searing-hot mouth. “I’m all yours…”
Zeke bent away and stared into Casey’s eyes as he hoisted a leg up to rest upon his chest. He curled it at the knee and let it go over his shoulder. The actions were repeated with the other, Zeke kissing and nipping Casey’s knee as he did. Using careful, gentle movements, he spit into his hand and brought it down to Casey’s aching-to-be-filled hole. “So beautiful,” Zeke whispered as Casey mewled and squirmed. Two fingers began sliding in; they began jerking in and out in quick jolts, fingertips rubbing Casey’s prostate to excite him even more. Zeke put their noses together as he worked, making a puzzle of tangled, squashed limbs out of their bodies. “Do you want my cock, Casey?”
“W-Want it, oh f-f-fuck…”
“Do you love my cock?”
“GOD yes,” Casey belted out. He kissed Zeke’s cheek in pecks, his breathing gone erratic. “’Love your beautiful fucking cock, Zeke. G-Give it.”
Zeke stared at Casey through half-lidded eyes as he removed his fingers and positioned, pressing the head of his dick against Casey’s pouting hole. Before he made the first push inside, he grabbed Casey’s arms and put them over his shoulders; they rested on Casey’s own knees. “Hold me tight, baby,” Zeke said as he finally, finally began entering Casey’s body.
“O-Oh…” Casey moaned and pressed his ass closer, making his body pretzel-like to keep hold of his lover. Every muscle stretched, strained and relaxed with every push-forward, push-back. The hair over Zeke’s brow trembled, his face flushed with excitement. He closed one eye, the other’s lashes fluttering madly. A rolling-rhythm was struck between them, their sex melding into perfection. Casey stared into Zeke’s face as he fought for more kisses. “You’re so… fucking… beautiful,” he said in halted jerks.
“God,” Zeke punched out. The mattress’ springs made light noises, but the sounds coming through the opened window were louder and stronger. Casey realized that Zeke was matching the rhythm of the waves, pulsing forward and back in time. This soon changed when desperation set in, Zeke’s grunting and gasping showing that this wasn’t going to last. “C-Casey I’m sorry, can’t h-hold it--”
“Come, baby. C-Come for me,” Casey whispered into his ear.
Zeke set himself free in one loud bellow and he shuddered; Casey felt hot-wet coat his insides and pulse out, laving the crease of his ass in Zeke’s come. It was a mess of jolts, grunts, groans and splintered cries until Zeke finally stopped with one final, strong jerk inside. He caught himself at his elbows before crushing Casey with his weight. After a few heaving breaths, a lone chuckle came from his lips. “I’m… sorry,” he said.
“Aw, baby…” Casey said, pecking his lips. “…’Guess you’ll just have to catch up on your ‘reading’.”
Chuckling a little, Zeke left Casey’s body and slumped to his side, pressed against Casey and kissing his temple. Casey closed his eyes when Zeke reached to Casey’s still-hard cock and began stroking it. “Baby…” Zeke’s whisper was like a flame licking over Casey’s ear. “Open--wider.”
Casey splayed his thighs as wide as they could go, allowing Zeke all the room he could. The grip on his cock tightened, fingers clenching over the thick shaft. With every pass, Zeke flicked his thumb over the leaking tip, dragging Casey’s come with every jerk downward. “Love your body,” Zeke whispered again, nipping Casey’s earlobe. “My little boy-playground…”
“Oh god,” Casey moaned out.
“Make you wet… love painting your skin with it…”
Casey’s limbs shook and went straight as his orgasm exploded in his loins, sending spurts of seed over his thighs, belly and Zeke’s hand. He pushed his head back and rolled it from side-to-side until his whole body went limp as a wet dishrag. Panting breaths replaced the lust, every muscle, organ and skin cell sated with Zeke’s hand slowing to a stop. The wet on his belly was massaged into his skin, up to his chest where it was painted onto each nipple. Casey smiled. “Cigarette,” he said when the seed cooled and dried, leaving him sticky-wonderful. The lighter’s flame, smoke… post-coital and blissful.
“Not for a million dollars…” Zeke said as he exhaled a long line of smoke. “…This is it.”
“What is?” Casey dreamily replied as he puffed.
Zeke’s smile was made of gold, it’d seem. “Us.”
~*~
Title: High Society (Pt. 28, End/Epilogue to follow)
Pairing/Characters: Casey/Zeke, a SLEW of OMCs (sorry for that... maybe I'll make a list so people can keep track... I just LOVE OMCs, what can I say?)
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): None!
Author's Note: Dedicated to the lovely gloryunderhill!
Synopsis: Set during the Great Depression, there's an industry that's ALWAYS successful, and Casey's desperate--and he's starting to like that desperation.
Previous Parts
The weather couldn’t seem to make up its mind the next day. One moment, Casey found it warm enough to sit outside on their room’s porch again, watching the sun rise into the sky; the next, a chilled gust of wind would slap his face and force him back inside. Nonetheless, he didn’t want to be anywhere else. Provincetown felt like home, more and more by the minute.
Just as Zeke had started waking, Carla had come calling to ask if they’d be taking breakfast, and of course, they’d gone for the idea. The eggs, thick slices of ham, toast, milk and coffee arrived only fifteen minutes later, which helped to wake a very-sleepy Noah. As much as Casey would’ve enjoyed eating on the porch, he wasn’t taking the chance of his food going ice cold. Breakfast was eaten in their bedclothes and on their beds amongst rumpled sheets, offering quiet, sweet comfort. There’d been no urgency or rush; if they had to, they’d rent the room another night, and perhaps another.
But they were now heading out, dressed in comfortable, casual clothing and making their steps unhurried. First things first: while Noah and Zeke made their way to find clothing shops, Casey was given the task of sending out the ‘we’re okay’ telegram to Danny. Once he did that, they could check back later for any replies. The town’s post office offered telegram services, thankfully, so Casey parted ways with the two others and walked into the building.
Only one other person was there at the front counter, sending a package. Casey planned on waiting for the man helping her, but found another worker emerge from a back room, heading over with a smile. “Hello, young man--how can I help you?” the man asked.
“Good morning. I’d like to send a telegram?” Casey said.
“All right. Fill out this slip, pay the small fee and we’ll get it out for you.”
Casey took the paper and pen handed to him, smiled and went to write:
Made it to Provincetown MA safe and sound. Hope you and Cousin Danny are faring well. Let us know how the others are, if you have talked to them. Send telegram back to post office for us to pick up. Letters in the post to follow. Love, Casey. Quick, simple and informative enough, he figured. He got the office worker’s attention and slid the slip over to him, along with the posted price. “What time do you close? I’m hoping for a reply, but we don’t have an address yet, as we’ve just come into town,” he said.
“Ah, I was going to say, you’re a new face in town,” the man said with twinkling eyes. It was a good sign, not seeing any suspicion or wariness in his face.
“Yes, me and my ‘brothers’ have come from New York City. It’s a long story,” Casey replied, making sure he smiled brightly. “Compared to how we USED to live, this town seems like a great choice to start anew.”
“That it is. I was born and raised here, myself. Mr. Jack Carter, pleased to meet you.”
Casey took his offered hand. No longer fearing their being traced and tracked by undesirables, he replied, “Casey Connor, the same.”
“And to answer your question, it’s Thursday, so four o’clock. Your telegram should be sent out soon, and if the recipient gets it before noon and replies, you just might get it by three,” Jack said.
“Good, good. I’ll be sure to return to see if we get our message,” Casey replied.
“I hope you will--go out now, take in the sights. Have a wonderful day.”
Feeling warm and safe, Casey bid the man goodbye and went back outside onto the street. He tucked his scarf closer to his throat and chin and turned left where Noah and Zeke would be meeting up with him. Though the chill made his nose feel numb, it was welcome; no matter how cold the air was, it was fresh and free of toxins, the exact opposite of New York’s. His smile grew when he saw Noah emerge from a building, looking around. He spotted Casey and waved him over.
“Hey,” Casey said after taking the last few yards in a jog.
‘Hey, great news,’ Noah said with excited signing-hands. He motioned to the building he’d just come out of, ‘Seascape Café’. ‘Zeke is in there, talking with the owner. There are some small but decent shacks on the beach they’re looking to rent, or sell.’
Yet more weight started leaving Casey’s shoulders. ‘For cheap?’
Noah made a slow nod, smiling even wider. ‘And… they’re looking for help.’ He pointed to the small sign in the window that Casey hadn’t seen, reading Help Wanted. ’They’re particularly interested in artists… like yourself.’
~*~
Micah Barton, Seascape’s owner, was an odd but extremely kind and mellow-fellow. He dressed like no other in light blue slacks and mustard-yellow shirt, a stark contrast of strange colors that Casey adored immediately. There were no stuffed-shirts here, it seemed, which made Casey reconsider his bland, usual wardrobe of plain black pants and white shirts.
It hadn’t been long into talking with the man that Micah had nodded in an all-knowing way while staring Casey down. “Yea. I like you. And if you’re as big on blank canvases as you’ve said, I wanna see your work,” he said.
Excitement wasn’t the word--elation? Ecstasy? Casey tried to look calm, cool and collected as he nodded. “I’d be glad to. This means I have the job…?”
“This means you have the job,” Micah replied. He tapped the counter of the coffee-bar with his knuckles and grinned. “Can you start tomorrow?”
“Y-Yea!” Casey said, not bothering to hide his excitement. He nodded back to the table where Zeke and Noah sat together, sipping hot drinks and staring at them intently. “And… and the housing you mentioned, when can we go take a look?”
“After-lunchtime, if that’s good?”
“Today?”
Micah’s nod almost had Casey pass out. It didn’t matter if the place was full of holes and had a leaky roof. The fact that it wasn’t just ‘housing’ but in what Micah labeled as ‘artist’s alley’ had every cell in Casey’s body ready to explode. “This is wonderful. BEYOND wonderful. We were so afraid, coming into a new place, with new people…” Casey said.
“Ah, P-Town’s not like most places--you’ll find that out,” Micah said with a wink.
~*~
The next morning, it’d be official: Casey, Zeke and Noah would be made permanent residents of Provincetown, starting a new life with a clean slate. No awkward questions had been asked by Micah, nor anyone else they’d come across in ‘artist’s alley’. Walking along the beach had been refreshing, a rebirth of sorts. People dug for clams, were sat outside with pads and pencils or strumming guitars and enjoying happy sing-alongs. Each one smiled at them as they passed, some calling out to Micah, someone well known here, apparently.
But nothing compared with the small home Micah had brought them to. It was small, yes, with two small bedrooms, one bath, a tiny kitchen… but the living room was the largest, and most attractive. It was cold and devoid of anything ‘homey’, but that would be easily rectified within just days after their moving in. The only home-improvement projects needed involved repainting the house, its outer walls saltwater-worn, and half the windows needed replacing. All of this would be covered in one opening of Zeke’s lockbox, along with the first down-payment, leaving enough for savings which would be entered into a bank account at ‘Provincetown Savings and Loan’ that afternoon. Zeke‘s identification card and birth certificate, back in the lockbox as well, would serve them well in getting their house in his name, along with the account. As long as their first payment was made the next morning, they could move in the moment money exchanged hands. Micah hadn’t hidden his pleasure in getting the place half-paid for in one shot, rather than month-to-month rent.
Casey felt like he was walking on air as they walked back through town. Judging by the expressions Noah and Zeke wore, they felt the same. It was as if their trials and tribulations no longer existed; even if they still craved to know what had become of their former ‘roommates’, Casey couldn’t dwell too much or too hard on it. They all had their lives to move on with, and he could do nothing to help anyone but Noah, Zeke and himself… which they were succeeding at, in spades.
“It’s just past three. Let’s go to the post office,” Zeke said.
“I hope they got back to us…” Casey looked ahead at the post office’s sign, crossing his fingers in his pockets. Hoping beyond hope, Casey rushed ahead, reached the door and opened it for them all to go inside. Finding Jack still there at the counter made him grin. “Good afternoon,” he said.
The man looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Ah, Mr. Connor. Good afternoon.”
“Hi. Did… we get a reply?”
“Mmm, you did; just a half an hour ago, quite quick.”
Casey took a deep breath as Jack rooted around in a box on the counter. A slip was drawn out and handed over for Casey to read, Zeke and Noah leaning in to take a look as well:
Very glad to hear from you so quickly. Uncle Xavier sends his love. Have gotten in contact with Cousin Henry who says he knows that Cousin Jamie has found his way back home. Nothing from Uncle Stephen or anyone else from home as of yet again will let you know. Stay safe sending all good wishes. Love Cousin Danny
Some of the uncomfortable knots that had been tied deep in Casey’s chest came free, making him lean onto the counter in a heap. “Oh… thank god,” he said in a breathy voice.
“I hope we hear from James, and soon,” Zeke said in a distant voice. He cleared his throat and smiled. “Should we send another?”
Noah nodded, along with Casey. “Yea--they’ll need our new address,” Casey said.
“Ah, so you HAVE settled in, have you?” Jack asked.
“Mmm, yes. It was an easy decision,” Casey replied with a smile as Jack prepared another slip for them.
~*~
Two Weeks Later
Casey settled in on the couch--an old, used one they’d gotten at a charity shop on Cook Street that had plenty of comfort left--enjoying his day off with a new canvas and his paint set. He and Zeke had spent some time with the oils the day before while Noah was shopping for camera supplies. Gone was Casey’s lack of confidence when it came to this medium; now that no doom loomed over their heads, he could concentrate fully, to put the images in his mind onto the blank rectangle in front of him.
Friends had come to them quick, as well. Their neighbors on one side consisted of a young couple, raising an extremely cute eight-month old little girl. The other side was an older man who had a lovely greenhouse set up in his backyard, which he invited the boys to come and visit. Cool Spring had shifted to a hot Summer in an instant, with fragrant flowers sending Casey’s senses sprawling. The next day, they’d be having dinner with the couple, being known to everyone as the ‘New York Brothers’, orphans that had been raised together during the hardest of times. There wasn’t an ounce of suspicion or questioning, their stories taken as truth without an issue. Casey felt a little strange, but as Zeke had said the night before as they’d kissed in light whispers…
“We’re not lying. We’re living.”
Just as Casey made the first dab of his brush to canvas, Noah emerged from the kitchen. He made his way to the chair next to the couch and sat, a plate of food in his hand. Casey smiled as he showed the chicken leg and rice it held. “After I’m done… thank you,” Casey told him.
Noah smiled and continued eating his lunch, humming with satisfaction at every bite. The radio, also bought at the charity shop, played a light ballad which urged Casey on. ‘Love,’ he thought as he made the first red circle, which would turn into a rose. He cocked his head to the side as he worked, feeling a peace come over him as he worked.
An hour later, the front door opened and Zeke walked in, returning from his job search. Judging by his expression, he’d come up empty, yet again. Casey stopped working on his painting to give him a smile. “How’d it go?” he asked, even if he knew the answer.
“Eh… nothing. Not even day labor at the docks. They’re looking for guys with experience, so… I dunno…” Zeke replied. He sat at the other end of the couch and rubbed his face. “I might try my hand at the cannery, but not today. I’m beat.”
“That’s all right, Zeke. No rush.” Casey put his brush down, shimmied down to Zeke and gave him a light kiss to the cheek. “I’m making enough, and there’s plenty in the bank. Noah made lunch, you could warm up any leftovers…?”
Zeke shrugged listlessly. “Not hungry. Thanks.”
Feeling sorry for the young man, Casey curled into his side. “I told Micah yesterday about the other artists I live with. He’s interested.”
“Hah… I’m sure he’s not interested in my scrawling.”
“So practice, you dolt,” Casey said, poking his side. Finally, Zeke smiled and curled an arm around his shoulders to pull him in close.
“We’ll see. ‘Might be worth a try.”
Noah passed through then, heading for the front of the house. He paused as he stared through the window, then smiled. ‘Mail,’ he signed.
Casey raised his eyebrows and sat up straight. “Mail?” he said. Noah left them in favor of going outside to the mailbox, sitting at the end of their front walk along the tattered, brown fencing lining their property. Casey watched through the last-to-be-fixed windows at Noah’s gathering letters; the boy rushed back, looking excited.
“Danneh!” he all but yelled as he reentered the house, waving a letter in the air.
“Oh!” Casey exclaimed. He moved away from Zeke to let Noah sit between them; the boy tore the envelope open, reached in and unfolded the contents for them to read:
Dear boys,
Well, my first official letter! It feels good to send it to an actual address, knowing you boys are safe and sound. It won’t be long ‘til me and Xavier come calling, so make sure there’s a cot set up for us when we do!
We’re doing very well here in the city. There’s been some new on the ‘home front’ when it comes to former friends. As I’d said in telegrams, Henry’s doing well. Struggling a little in trying to find work, but Xavier’s let him stay with us the last few weeks. It’s been a riot, all of us under one roof. Just like old times! Jamie’s reached family down in Virginia; he sent a telegram just last week. His brother’s taken him in and Jamie’s set to work on his farm, however struggling the farm itself is. It’s good to know that another one of us is safe. James--haven’t heard yet. I’m wondering, or HOPING, that he’s found his way home back in England, or something. It’s a long-shot, but he’d been good at saving his tips and pay. I don’t know if we’ll ever see him again.
You’ll be happy to know that from what Xavier’s managed to dig up, Stephen’s not in prison. I don’t know how he did it, but I suppose the ‘connections’ he had helped. No idea where he is or what he’s doing, but with the way he is, he’ll probably be up-and-running again with a NEW ‘playpen’ for our ‘old friends’, hah. Who knows? Again, we’ll keep you posted.
One big reason I’m writing: we ran into Cal at the street market on Fifth.
Casey paused in reading to look to Zeke; going by the clenching of Zeke’s jaw, he’d reached the same paragraph. With a swallow, Casey read on.
I hope you don’t mind that I gave him the reaming of a lifetime, haha! Oh, was he uncomfortable. But he took me aside to talk about a note, something Casey had gotten with those roses the day of the ‘surprise’. We all assumed they were from Cal, of course, but he said he hadn’t sent them. You never told me about it, but he says he knows who wrote it and that it was key to our sudden eviction. He’d been at United Bank to start new accounts from his work, and he had papers signed by a certain someone, on someone's last day at the bank, and he said the handwriting looked awfully familiar. This ‘someone’ is now in Boston--does the name ‘Dennis’ ring a bell?
Casey parted his lips and felt his insides shake with a violence. Dennis… his last night at Stephen’s, the anger and vengeful sex… the café run-in where awful, nasty words had been exchanged…
“Oh my fucking god,” Zeke muttered, also reaching this new piece of information. Casey turned to look at him, finding a shocked expression on Zeke’s face. “Dennis. Oh fuck, of course…”
Noah, too, wore a wide-eyed look on his face. Casey trembled and tried reading on, but his stomach was clenching, skin aflame with both rage and shame… “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault,” he said in a soft, quaking voice.
“Casey--no, stop--”
“It’s my FAULT!” Casey stood up in a shot and started pacing around the room, darting his eyes to the boys every few seconds. “Dennis--that last night we were in the bedroom, I’d insulted him to no end, then the café. The café, where we taunted him in secret while his g-goddamned FIANCEE sat--”
“Stop, NOW,” Zeke said in a firm, strong voice. “You did nothing at all to make that bastard do this. Nothing.”
‘He would’ve done something like this, with or without you,’ Noah added. ‘He was a bastard before you showed up--NO one liked him.’
Casey tried letting all of this sink in, but his heart still kept plummeting to a dark, sad place. He went to their old rickety chair across from the couch and sat down, arms folded over his stomach. “You don’t understand. The last night he was there, when he took me upstairs… it was to…” Casey took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “…Have revenge--for what happened in the fuck-parlor, Cal and… fuck.”
“What did he do?” Zeke asked.
“He’d said he wasn’t going to touch me, because I was dirty--that he’d wasted his time at Stephen’s, he was getting married, but… he DID touch me. He fucked me, because I taunted him into it. I told him that he was a liar, that he loved young boys. Younger than what’s reasonable, and it seemed to--strike a chord,” Casey explained. He reopened his eyes to look at them with a solid gaze. “Don’t tell me that didn’t at least ‘contribute’ to what he pulled.”
“He’s a prick. Okay? If Stephen had known that he’d planned on doing that, he would’ve thought twice about letting it happen,” Zeke said. He made an angry sniff and shifted in his seat, as if he was sitting on a tack. “I know I would’ve sent him packing. NO-one does that to you.”
Noah sat up and held up his hands, as if trying to clear the air of anger and frustration. It seemed to work; Casey looked to him as the wisest of them, the one who only ‘spoke’ when it was important enough to. The boy began signing, ‘Whatever he did, it is done. That’s all there is to it. Fuck, he’s done us a favor,’ he said with firm, desperate movements to accentuate the words. ‘Let’s not pretend that we were wholly happy at Stephen’s. We made good friends, Stephen was great to us, but if you had a choice, would you go back or stay here?’
“What’d he say?” Zeke asked. After Casey shook out a sigh, he translated. Zeke began nodding slowly. “He’s right.”
“And what of the others? Danny lucked with Xavier and now Henry’s joined them, and Jamie‘s back home… but James? Stephen, he may be out of the woods but he COULD be on the streets. And the fucking Mafia, who knows if they’re looking for us?” Casey rambled, questions flying from his lips at top speed.
“It’s doubtful, all right? It’s not like they can’t find someone to kick up another ‘boy-business’. Maybe they’ll get Stephen working for them again, in some way; he WAS friends with a few of those guys,” Zeke said.
‘We all knew the risk we were taking in working there, Casey. If it hadn’t been Dennis blowing the whistle, the new commissioner would have stepped in somehow. Our time was up, that’s all,’ Noah said.
Even if he was still torn and sad, Casey’s raging began to dissipate and he calmed. His eyes were set on the floor as he said, “I want to kill him.” Noah said nothing, Zeke’s only reply that of lighting three cigarettes for them all.
~*~
“Noah’s off to send the letter off.”
Casey nodded and continued washing dishes. “Good,” he told Zeke, who leaned on the sink’s counter and stared at Casey. The silence that stretched between them felt stifling; Casey looked to him and frowned in seeing Zeke’s smile. “Um… what?”
“You’re so domestic,” Zeke said. “I love it.”
“Well, since everyone I live with leaves their dinner things out ’til they mold…”
“Aw, that only happened once. And I apologized profusely and made it up to you--didn’t I?”
Casey shook his head but he couldn’t help a tiny smirk. Zeke had, in fact, erased Casey’s anger at finding three plates stuck together with green globs of yuck in taking him to the bedroom, giving him the ’loving of a lifetime’. “I can take this on as a household chore, as long as you clean the bathroom,” Casey said. “HATE that chore.”
“A’right, sounds fine.” Zeke sniffed and moved closer, until his arm met Casey’s. “Noah’s gonna check out that camera shop, too.”
“Oh, all right.”
“You’re… really thick, know that?”
Casey frowned and turned away from the dishes entirely; Zeke’s grin had widened. “How’s that, Tyler?” he said.
“Figure it out. Noah’s making sure he spends some time in town--now, why would he do that?” Zeke asked. Before Casey could answer, Zeke moved in, dipping his head down to make their lips meet. Realization found Casey, who broke away to chuckle.
“You’re awful. You kicked him out?” he said.
“No, he volunteered. He knows you need to blow off some steam, and what better way to do that then…” Zeke drifted off and slid a hand down between them, stopping at Casey’s belt. He tugged at it until the loose strap was pulled from the belt loops and slapped against his hand. Casey stood shock-still to let the young man pry the buckle open and whip it away from Casey’s waist in a swish. A grunt escaped Casey’s throat when Zeke put both hands under the hem of his t-shirt and held his slim hips tight. “Know what we’ve never done?”
“W-What?”
Zeke’s smile went devilish as he pulled Casey with him into the living room. The volume knob on the radio was turned up, letting the song--‘Stardust’, come through loud and clear. Zeke’s hands returned to Casey’s waist and he began moving to the music in soft, barefoot slides. Staring into Zeke’s eyes, Casey sighed and made a soft smile. “Dancing, eh?”
“Mmm, dancing,” Zeke replied.
Casey took a deep breath through his nose; his arms lifted to slide his wrists over Zeke’s shoulders. “And here I thought… you starting to undress me was the promise that we’d be making love for hours on end,” he mock-whined.
“Oh, that’ll happen, with promises. But first… we dance.” Zeke held Casey to him even closer, letting their stomachs meet; he dipped down again to press their foreheads together, making small kisses on Casey’s lips. “I’ve always wanted to dance with you.”
“Yea?”
“Mmhmm.”
A sigh shook from Casey’s lips as Zeke brushed his over them. “I love you, Zeke,” Casey couldn’t help himself from saying.
Zeke put a hand to Casey’s arm and slid it up to the boy’s wrist. He squeezed it before sliding back down, up again. “I’d go through that night, over and over again… as long as we always end up here,” he said in a quiet, deep voice. He moved them in a slow circle, not minding when Casey stepped on his foot in the process. He merely smiled wider in Casey’s apology and moved his head back. “Want to do our favorite dance?” he asked.
“What’d that be?” Casey asked; he sighed happily as Zeke pulled away and took Casey’s hands; he walked backwards towards the bedroom hallway, caramel eyes set on Casey’s blues. He backed into the bedroom which held two beds, where if one looked close enough, they’d see that the one on the left was rarely used. The mattress nearest the window always had rumpled sheets, a product of two boys residing in it in the night, holding each other close. They didn’t need a bed frame, just a soft place to sleep, nap, relax, make love…
Zeke dropped down on it, taking Casey with him. Casey grinned as he put his thighs over Zeke’s waist, all to sit upon him lightly. With his hands braced over Zeke’s shoulders, Casey moved down to resume kissing his lover, one of his favorite things. Gone were the undertones of other men, leaving Zeke fresh and clean. Casey hoped the traces of their time at Stephen’s had left him, as well. While he’d find himself lamenting the fact that he couldn’t have given himself as a virgin to Zeke, Zeke was in the same spot--fair and balanced, where the bad memories didn’t need to intrude. Not here, where they’d keep windows open even on cold days, all to hear the ocean roaring outside.
The shirt Casey wore was being pulled up to his shoulders; he flexed them and stretched his arms out for ease-of-exit, letting Zeke remove the clothing. His nipples went hard instantly, not needing the slightest brush of fingers upon them to excite the skin. But Zeke worshipped them anyway, one of his favorite things being Casey’s soft, pleased cooing in them being touched. Zeke shifted his hips to the side, putting Casey on the bed and facing him. “Love you,” Zeke murmured as he began kissing Casey’s chest, his tongue emerging to swirl around the swollen nubs. Casey made a closed-mouth moan and hugged Zeke’s head, his fingers running through the dark, smooth hair upon it. Casey’s comfortable denim slacks were being tugged down; the waist was loose enough to slide off without buttons or zip being undone. It felt like silk, the fabric moving down his thighs, calves then off. They were tossed behind Zeke without a care and the older boy stopped his worshipping to move onto his hands. Now hovering over Casey, a dreamy smile crossed his lips. “Know what I am?”
“Mmm… what?” Casey said as he enjoyed the hand now running over his cheek.
“Happy. For the first time in my whole life…” Zeke moved down to kiss Casey then bend back up. “…Happy.”
Feeling drugged by Zeke’s voice, Casey opened his thighs and ran one over Zeke’s. His foot was moved to the back of Zeke’s knee where it held on tight. “Take your shirt off,” Casey told the older boy, who smiled and did so, revealing his strong, thin-muscled chest and belly, which went concave in his moving back to Casey. Skin-to-skin, Zeke returned to their kissing, making it harder and more desperate. He held onto the sides of Casey’s head, as if thinking Casey would try to wiggle and move away--like hell. Casey hooked his thumbs into Zeke’s surprisingly non-ticklish underarms and splayed his fingers along the start of his shoulder-blades. After a few minutes of hot, wet kissing, Casey pushed one hand to Zeke’s waist and fumbled the button and zip of his pants open. They were tugged down in awkward, hasty movements, until they were low enough for Casey to remove with his feet. Zeke kicked them away and pushed down upon his lover, full-body contact given. Their cocks met and pressed together in hard rolls of hips; Casey’s ass clenched in want, his breath coming out in hard pants. “I’m y-yours… please, Zeke… make love t-to me,” he said with difficulty. His chest heaved against Zeke’s as he began kissing Zeke again, a hungry tongue going deep into Zeke’s searing-hot mouth. “I’m all yours…”
Zeke bent away and stared into Casey’s eyes as he hoisted a leg up to rest upon his chest. He curled it at the knee and let it go over his shoulder. The actions were repeated with the other, Zeke kissing and nipping Casey’s knee as he did. Using careful, gentle movements, he spit into his hand and brought it down to Casey’s aching-to-be-filled hole. “So beautiful,” Zeke whispered as Casey mewled and squirmed. Two fingers began sliding in; they began jerking in and out in quick jolts, fingertips rubbing Casey’s prostate to excite him even more. Zeke put their noses together as he worked, making a puzzle of tangled, squashed limbs out of their bodies. “Do you want my cock, Casey?”
“W-Want it, oh f-f-fuck…”
“Do you love my cock?”
“GOD yes,” Casey belted out. He kissed Zeke’s cheek in pecks, his breathing gone erratic. “’Love your beautiful fucking cock, Zeke. G-Give it.”
Zeke stared at Casey through half-lidded eyes as he removed his fingers and positioned, pressing the head of his dick against Casey’s pouting hole. Before he made the first push inside, he grabbed Casey’s arms and put them over his shoulders; they rested on Casey’s own knees. “Hold me tight, baby,” Zeke said as he finally, finally began entering Casey’s body.
“O-Oh…” Casey moaned and pressed his ass closer, making his body pretzel-like to keep hold of his lover. Every muscle stretched, strained and relaxed with every push-forward, push-back. The hair over Zeke’s brow trembled, his face flushed with excitement. He closed one eye, the other’s lashes fluttering madly. A rolling-rhythm was struck between them, their sex melding into perfection. Casey stared into Zeke’s face as he fought for more kisses. “You’re so… fucking… beautiful,” he said in halted jerks.
“God,” Zeke punched out. The mattress’ springs made light noises, but the sounds coming through the opened window were louder and stronger. Casey realized that Zeke was matching the rhythm of the waves, pulsing forward and back in time. This soon changed when desperation set in, Zeke’s grunting and gasping showing that this wasn’t going to last. “C-Casey I’m sorry, can’t h-hold it--”
“Come, baby. C-Come for me,” Casey whispered into his ear.
Zeke set himself free in one loud bellow and he shuddered; Casey felt hot-wet coat his insides and pulse out, laving the crease of his ass in Zeke’s come. It was a mess of jolts, grunts, groans and splintered cries until Zeke finally stopped with one final, strong jerk inside. He caught himself at his elbows before crushing Casey with his weight. After a few heaving breaths, a lone chuckle came from his lips. “I’m… sorry,” he said.
“Aw, baby…” Casey said, pecking his lips. “…’Guess you’ll just have to catch up on your ‘reading’.”
Chuckling a little, Zeke left Casey’s body and slumped to his side, pressed against Casey and kissing his temple. Casey closed his eyes when Zeke reached to Casey’s still-hard cock and began stroking it. “Baby…” Zeke’s whisper was like a flame licking over Casey’s ear. “Open--wider.”
Casey splayed his thighs as wide as they could go, allowing Zeke all the room he could. The grip on his cock tightened, fingers clenching over the thick shaft. With every pass, Zeke flicked his thumb over the leaking tip, dragging Casey’s come with every jerk downward. “Love your body,” Zeke whispered again, nipping Casey’s earlobe. “My little boy-playground…”
“Oh god,” Casey moaned out.
“Make you wet… love painting your skin with it…”
Casey’s limbs shook and went straight as his orgasm exploded in his loins, sending spurts of seed over his thighs, belly and Zeke’s hand. He pushed his head back and rolled it from side-to-side until his whole body went limp as a wet dishrag. Panting breaths replaced the lust, every muscle, organ and skin cell sated with Zeke’s hand slowing to a stop. The wet on his belly was massaged into his skin, up to his chest where it was painted onto each nipple. Casey smiled. “Cigarette,” he said when the seed cooled and dried, leaving him sticky-wonderful. The lighter’s flame, smoke… post-coital and blissful.
“Not for a million dollars…” Zeke said as he exhaled a long line of smoke. “…This is it.”
“What is?” Casey dreamily replied as he puffed.
Zeke’s smile was made of gold, it’d seem. “Us.”
~*~