(no subject)
Pan took Gavs out to the park, due in part to my wanting good, solid writing-time for this here idea I had on my way home from work. It was much appreciated.
Title: Track #4
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Song!fic, slight AU, considering time frames of Faculty-time and the music's non-existenceness during that period. Suspension of disbelief, if you please.
Author's Note: I've involved Ke$ha in fic before (Freke!fic, to be exact), but mostly to poke fun. I refuse to poke fun at her anymore. Why? Cos' she's a dirty, rotten party-girl and KNOWS it. She's more honest than the best singers/bands out there. Yea, I said it. Yea, I spent $2 on her album 'Cannibal' at the flea-market-shop at my work all for the one fucking song that convinced me to LIKE this chick. Yea, I blasted it on repeat while taking a nice, long drive on the back-roads after work. Yea, I turned it up even more to share it with some bikers I passed. Yea, I threw off my bandana and rocked out like a drunk-on-life eighteen-year old. Cos' when this song comes on, I am a drunk-on-life eighteen year old instead of someone who worked three super-early opening shifts in a row and would've died from the HATE I had for it were it not for Carrie and her natural generosity. When this song comes on? I'm young and I'm bored AND I get really good bunnies, to me, at least.
Hit 'play' and enjoy the wild-crazy-ridiculous-fun-WTFness. Throw your sensibilities and grown-up bollocks out the window to be young and bored for five seconds with me. :D
Synopsis: Zeke stumbles on 'their song'.
Zeke was going to like what he liked, and fuck anyone who'd give him shit over it. After installing a CD player in the GTO, he decided to revamp his music collection. He kept his favorites, consisting mostly of classic rock. Jethro Tull, The Who, Rolling Stones, Neil Young, Zepp-those were his “forevers”, never to part. It started with a small CD-case that he got for free from the HMV at the mall for buying five CDs, but it wasn't long before he had to upgrade to a huge, thick and expensive holder. It only took two weeks to fill it completely.
The front set of sleeves were for his classics, of course. After that came some industrial, modern rock, even a little old-school rap. Then came the flea market trip's selections-twenty-nine music choices in total. Fuck a gun for protection; if anyone ever decided to try and car-jack him, he'd put them in a coma in backhanding the idiot with leather-bound music. It was truly a Library of Congress, perhaps more expansive.
A year before, he'd sniffed derisively at most modern pop. Most radio-friendly new artists had turned him off, hard, and he hadn't given them a second look. But when he paid a visit to the flea's used cassette and CD booth, seeing their sign reading 1 CD: $2, 4 CDs: $8, 10 CDs: $15, he threw caution to the wind and ransacked the place. The vendor had been glad to give him a great deal, charging him only twenty-two bucks for the twenty-nine he'd picked. “I thought I'd NEVER get rid of some of these,” the man had joked, pointing to a few in particular. One of them had surprisingly became Zeke's favorite in just one, 'Well, let's give the bitch a try,' decision.
He'd gotten a few looks from the people he'd passed in the school's parking lot in his blasting the thing; after all, no one would have ever guessed that Zeke would end up blasting Ke$ha of all artists through his car's new and vastly-improved sound system. He'd only wished he'd had Casey with him, but the poor guy had caught a nasty strain of the flu, keeping him home an entire week.
Once the boy felt better, however, Zeke had pulled up to Casey's house, smirked, turned the volume up and became the neighborhood alarm clock. As the metal frame, windows and pavement shook with a violence, trying their best to accommodate We R Who We R without cracking and splintering into a million pieces, the Connor's front door swung open and out Casey came. He carried one extra large bag for tonight's adventure in Columbus; the flu had left just in time, Casey getting the go-ahead to enjoy the Radiohead concert they'd planned on going to months before. And fuck driving home afterward. Zeke had no problem in renting a room at the only place available-the cheapest and not-very-nice motel on the outskirts of the city. He already gave it five stars as it saved him from taking the two-hour drive back covered in concert-funk and deafened. Casey was a little too excited, even if it WAS the first time he was staying at a motel without the parents around...
“The fuck... Kesha?” Casey spat as he got in the passenger seat.
“Ke-dollar-sign-ha, yup.”
“Since the hell when?”
“Since I was able to strike a deal and get it for approximately seventy-eight cents.”
Casey had grimaced and grabbed the case. He grunted in feeling the weight. “Your collection's almost as insane as mine. Only mine holds no SUCK. We're going to see one of the most influential and epic bands of all time, and this is how you celebrate that?”
Zeke had sighed and shook his head through Casey's long-winded soapboxing through most of the ride to school. He'd expected as much, and didn't hold it against him... that much, anyway. After all, he'd been just as ornery about pop-stars mere months before. “I'm not trying to change your mind, y'know,” Zeke had said.
“I'M trying to get you to change the fuckin' autotuned bullshit, myself.”
“Mmm. Too bad, so sad.”
At least Casey had smirked. They'd pulled into the school's lot just as Blow started, parked and Zeke turned the car off. “There, happy now?” He turned to Casey, expecting to see rolling eyes. Instead, the boy was peering at the player.
“What song was that? Still Kesha?”
“Huh? Yea... that's not a mix-CD, it's Cannibal. Actual album.” Zeke said.
“Really?”
“Yeeea...?”
Casey blinked a few times. “I think... yea, that's the song that I caught on the radio, right by the end.”
“Oh, really? Are you a sudden fan?” Zeke asked.
Scoffing, Casey indeed rolled his eyes and stepped out. “C'mon, Timberlake,” he teased before shutting the door. Zeke exited, joined Casey's side and shrugged.
“Yea, he's in there too.”
“Shut up.”
~*~
“I aced every exam... I'm feeling nice.”
Casey looked down at the giant CD case Zeke put in his lap. “What, I get to actually pick the music?”
“Yea. And it's a long-assed drive to Columbus, so choose wisely,” Zeke said. This really was a rare gift. There weren't many that received this honor, but Casey was different. The fact that he'd scored tickets to the most important event Ohio had ever hosted when it'd been sold-out (what connections did he have that Zeke didn't?) earned this reward. Zeke started the car, backed out and threw it into drive. He glanced to Casey, who hadn't opened the case. Instead, Kesha came through again, Blow starting from where it'd left off.
Drink that Kool-Aid, follow my lead
Now you're one of us, you're coming with me
“Well?”
“Just wanna see if it really was that song,” Casey replied.
Zeke cocked an eyebrow and looked back to the road. “The bass of this shit's enough to love.”
“Yea, I guess.” Casey shrugged, scoffed and waved a hand at the player. “But really, it's not like she's got talent. Y'know? And really... 'dirt and glitter cover the floor, pretty and sick...' she's every party girl I've wanted to punch in the nose.”
“Well, that's what she is. A party girl,” Zeke replied. “Would you rather she lied?”
“Huh?”
Smirking again, Zeke went on, “Know why I suddenly like this shit? I thought the same thing, 'this is such bullshit', but she's the most honest outta everyone else on the radio. She's completely unapologetic.” Zeke stopped at a red light and looked to the volume dial. “Let's crank it, it's best that way,” he said before turning it up a few notches. The hard-pounding bass made everything shake; Casey outright giggled.
“You're such a dork,” he said, but he'd started tapping his foot on the floor, his hand also going to beat over his bent-up knee. Zeke didn't bring any attention to it-he was satisfied enough.
~*~
“No, just leave it.”
“Huh?”
“I don't feel like scanning CD titles. Reading in the car makes me puke.”
“We could put it on the radio...?”
“N'aw, just leave it.”
I eat boys up, breakfast and lunch
Then when I'm thirsty, I drink their blood
“But isn't it all so untalented and meaningless?”
“Yea.”
Casey didn't know he was bobbing his head and mouthing the chorus, did he?
~*~
THIS was the Casey Zeke knew. The normally quiet, shy and reserved young man couldn't hide his wild side from Zeke, even when he was sitting still. Here, watching their favorite band live was making the boy hop up and down with everyone else, screaming out the lyrics to Electioneering louder than anyone here was awesome... and, Zeke had to admit, kind of hot.
But every now and again, Zeke noticed the boy slow down and stare ahead as if he was being hypnotized. After seeing it a few times, Zeke determined that it'd happen whenever Johnny Greenwood neared the edge of the stage; Casey's reaction wasn't out-of-line as a true fan of the band couldn't help but go numb seeing the music-magician cast his spell over the crowd, but it felt different.
The real, true answer came when Casey turned to Zeke, wide-eyed and looking delirious and pulled Zeke down to say, “I'd give my virginity to that man.” He moved away fast and his face went beet-red, but he returned to watching the band play as if he hadn't admitted something so important; Zeke's left ear rang louder than the other, Casey's words echoing enough to block out the music.
~*~
It was as if they'd each downed an entire bottle of vodka in one go. Zeke panted, one foot stretched out the driver's side door, cigarette crackling in his fingers-so, so drunk on what he'd just experienced. “I owe you my life,” he said without thinking.
“What for?” Casey said in a breathy voice, obviously overcome as well.
“This shit was sold-out-you got us close enough to feel their sweat. Mind telling me how so I can return the favor someday?”
Casey snapped out of his reverie to grin and chortle. “A gaming friend of mine got extra tickets as a 'just in case'. I gotta be my parents' slave until I'm thirty, or until I get a corner-office job to pay 'em back...”
“Fuck, I've GOT the money. I told you that,” Zeke interrupted.
“You always do. Remember the high-tech digital camera you got me for my birthday? You owe me nothing.”
“That was a gift.”
“Damned right, it was. It's what got me in the front case of the school and a shot at the Art Institute in Boston. Clear the slate, babe.”
Zeke turned his head slowly to face Casey. “'Babe'?”
A pause followed until Casey sank in his seat further and muttered, “S'what I said, yea.”
“Mmm, oh... 'kay.” Zeke shook his head and turned the engine on. He didn't plan on fighting every car in the lot to get out just yet, but he needed something other than their breathing to listen to.
I miss your soft lips, I miss your white sheets...
“This one ain't my fave,” Casey said, grimacing at the stereo.
“OK Computer is on the seventh page, top row on the left,” Zeke replied.
Casey said nothing as he reached to the back-button to track four.
Giggling... Dance.
“Okay, Casey. Fucking admit it.” Zeke raised his eyebrows and gave the boy a hard stare. Casey looked back; a slow smile spread over his face.
“This song owns me.”
Ooh. Zeke hadn't expected THAT. “But... she's such a party-girl-bitch and--” he went to say, but as if the words this place about to blow had suddenly supplied Casey with the most immense power and courage, Zeke was pulled to Casey in a hard jerk and their mouths crashed into each other. The back of Casey's head hit the passenger-side window hard enough to break it, but he only amped it up, his mouth opening wider to deepen the kiss. Zeke was too stunned to move, due mostly to the fact that a boy who'd never kissed anyone in his life really, really knew how to do it.
Casey must have read Zeke's reaction-or lack thereof-differently. He moved away and stared at Zeke through unblinking eyes. “I... I h-had to, I'm sor--”
Now what-what? We're taking control, we get what we want, we do what you don't Kesha said as Zeke made a low growl in his throat, grabbed the back of Casey's head and resumed their kiss in a crash of lips, tongue and teeth. The bass, the sound of people milling around and shouting out in the lot, auto-tuned party-girl, bright headlights flashing in and out, horn blasts, the bass...
~*~
Casey's disappointment over Zeke's not having a portable stereo was evident. He made that clear in his ordering Zeke to get off the main road and into a desolate town-a town that ended up having a long road leading to a vacant, dead cornfield. As it turned out, Casey refused to do anything without track four in the background.
Zeke was sure that their motel room's bed wasn't as comfortable as the driver's seat, especially when Casey threw it back into the lie-down position. He needed to reach over Zeke's lap to do it, which was perfectly fine with Zeke. The boy had straddled him in a flash, reached behind him to restart his new favorite song and pressed himself against Zeke tight.
Giggling... Dance. And dance they did, in their own way. A year ago, Zeke hated everything Kesha was, had just dumped a girl just like her and wouldn't have ever imagined that he'd end up in this position with the class geek... who just happened to be flat-chested and carried a cock. But change was good, very good, going by how hard Zeke was getting.
Casey's camera skills came in damned-good-handy when it came to how deftly he was in flicking open Zeke's jeans' button. Zeke returned the favor, a little clumsier but effective all the same. His hands slid past the loosened waist and swooped to Casey's taut, smooth ass. We're pretty and sick, we're young and we're bored. “Finger me,” Casey begged. Zeke was already there; he stretched his finger to the hole and drove it in. Casey's lower lip dragged over Zeke's mouth and went to the side, a deep moan escaping Casey as his chest went back, hips forward. He curled his fingers in to dig nails into Zeke's bare pelvis. It was Zeke's turn to moan, going shakier and louder when Casey went lower and framed his cock and balls in a light grip.
In a matter of moments, Casey had somehow shucked off his shirt, jeans and underwear-the shoes already removed before they'd even gotten here, leaving him completely and utterly naked to Zeke's eyes. We are taking over-get used to it. All right?
How the car wasn't blown-apart with the pressure built-up inside of it was a wonder. It was a good thing, as a light rain had started to fall. Zeke didn't bother shutting his wide-open window; the light misting offered up incredible stimulation for him, for both of them if Casey's skin going goosefleshed and tight said anything. Touching the boy all over made Zeke feel like he was blind and trying to learn braille.
This place about to... the song came to a close and Zeke groaned as the party-girl went romantic again. He stretched his arm out and smacked the back button-too hard. I don't need you or your brand new Benz, or your bougie friends--
“Z-Zeke, c'mon...”
“I know, I know,” Zeke said with frustration, moving from track three back to four-the repeat function was tapped next to avoid future annoyance. His clothes needed to make their exit; it took a lot of jerking, maneuvering and tugs from the both of them, but it was a success.
Giggling... Dance.
Perhaps the lyrics to Sleazy were fitting... in a way. But that wasn't 'their song'. Zeke didn't doubt that this would've been different if he hadn't spent the seventy-eight cents; perhaps the soundtrack for this act would've been something weird like Paranoid Android or Karma Police, considering what band Casey had slaved himself off for them to see tonight. But on the other side of the coin, perhaps this wouldn't have happened at all if this freaky, auto-tuned mess hadn't been slipped into the case. When Casey spit into his hand and moved it to Zeke's cock, wet-wonderful blitzing Zeke's brain, there was no other music in the world that could compare. Beethoven, The Beatles, Radiohead, whoever the fuck else-they'd be nice to put on when Zeke's music-and-sex hangover was over. When this was over, Zeke would dig into his collection, light two cigarettes (like hell Casey, poster-boy for straight-edged living, would turn it down) and slip The Bends into the player.
Planning ahead wasn't his forte, however. By the time he'd fucked Casey to oblivion, came with a bellow, jerked Casey off, all of which created numerous dents in the fabric covering the roof and ear-splitting cries between the both of them, the song had played six times. However blasted and beautifully-bruised he was, Zeke somehow managed to take the song off of repeat and let his body go limp, besides his hand going to Casey's hip. Casey lie on Zeke's chest, panting and turning his mouth to kiss his collarbone in light presses.
I miss your soft lips, I miss your white sheets, I miss the scratch of your unshaved face on my cheek... It was time for this romance anyway, Zeke supposed. And if this new favorite singer (however auto-tuned and... yes, not exactly talented) could give him the experience he'd just gone through, he supposed he owed her the honor to keep singing for them.
~*~
The sheets were beige, but clean. Relatively. At least there was no smoking-ban in place.
“Are we gonna hide this, or announce it?”
Puff, puff... exhale. “Are we talking whispering the rumor to get everyone going, or a fourteen-by-nine foot neon sign hung over the front door?”
Casey's giggles were little drops made of sugared-sunshine, in Zeke's hallowed opinion. “Somewhere in the middle of those two.”
“Mmm... you DO have access to what gets printed in the school-rag...”
“Delilah would shit out a hundred hyenas.”
“Pfft, she does that every day any-way.”
MORE giggles. “We graduate in two weeks, anyway. How about...” A long, thoughtful pause, ending with Casey's broad, bright grin, “...You drive in like the maniac you are, bass bouncing us into a three-spot parking job and we'll make-out like wolverines to our song, windows open, in front of everyone.”
“Oh. I like.”
“Good. After that display, we'll probably land in the paper without me sneaking it in.”
“Hey Case?”
“Mmm?”
“Is Blow playing on the radio in your brain?”
“Since this morning, non-stop, yea.”
“Keep it on.” Zeke slid his arm out from under Casey's shoulders and pillows, climbed over him and licked his lips. Another giggle, much more girlish than the last...
“Dance,” Casey said in a gritty voice before Zeke nestled himself between Casey's thighs and gave him a kiss that was more cannibalistic than romantic.
This time we're taking names, cos' we don't mess around.
Title: Track #4
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Song!fic, slight AU, considering time frames of Faculty-time and the music's non-existenceness during that period. Suspension of disbelief, if you please.
Author's Note: I've involved Ke$ha in fic before (Freke!fic, to be exact), but mostly to poke fun. I refuse to poke fun at her anymore. Why? Cos' she's a dirty, rotten party-girl and KNOWS it. She's more honest than the best singers/bands out there. Yea, I said it. Yea, I spent $2 on her album 'Cannibal' at the flea-market-shop at my work all for the one fucking song that convinced me to LIKE this chick. Yea, I blasted it on repeat while taking a nice, long drive on the back-roads after work. Yea, I turned it up even more to share it with some bikers I passed. Yea, I threw off my bandana and rocked out like a drunk-on-life eighteen-year old. Cos' when this song comes on, I am a drunk-on-life eighteen year old instead of someone who worked three super-early opening shifts in a row and would've died from the HATE I had for it were it not for Carrie and her natural generosity. When this song comes on? I'm young and I'm bored AND I get really good bunnies, to me, at least.
Click to viewHit 'play' and enjoy the wild-crazy-ridiculous-fun-WTFness. Throw your sensibilities and grown-up bollocks out the window to be young and bored for five seconds with me. :D
Synopsis: Zeke stumbles on 'their song'.
Zeke was going to like what he liked, and fuck anyone who'd give him shit over it. After installing a CD player in the GTO, he decided to revamp his music collection. He kept his favorites, consisting mostly of classic rock. Jethro Tull, The Who, Rolling Stones, Neil Young, Zepp-those were his “forevers”, never to part. It started with a small CD-case that he got for free from the HMV at the mall for buying five CDs, but it wasn't long before he had to upgrade to a huge, thick and expensive holder. It only took two weeks to fill it completely.
The front set of sleeves were for his classics, of course. After that came some industrial, modern rock, even a little old-school rap. Then came the flea market trip's selections-twenty-nine music choices in total. Fuck a gun for protection; if anyone ever decided to try and car-jack him, he'd put them in a coma in backhanding the idiot with leather-bound music. It was truly a Library of Congress, perhaps more expansive.
A year before, he'd sniffed derisively at most modern pop. Most radio-friendly new artists had turned him off, hard, and he hadn't given them a second look. But when he paid a visit to the flea's used cassette and CD booth, seeing their sign reading 1 CD: $2, 4 CDs: $8, 10 CDs: $15, he threw caution to the wind and ransacked the place. The vendor had been glad to give him a great deal, charging him only twenty-two bucks for the twenty-nine he'd picked. “I thought I'd NEVER get rid of some of these,” the man had joked, pointing to a few in particular. One of them had surprisingly became Zeke's favorite in just one, 'Well, let's give the bitch a try,' decision.
He'd gotten a few looks from the people he'd passed in the school's parking lot in his blasting the thing; after all, no one would have ever guessed that Zeke would end up blasting Ke$ha of all artists through his car's new and vastly-improved sound system. He'd only wished he'd had Casey with him, but the poor guy had caught a nasty strain of the flu, keeping him home an entire week.
Once the boy felt better, however, Zeke had pulled up to Casey's house, smirked, turned the volume up and became the neighborhood alarm clock. As the metal frame, windows and pavement shook with a violence, trying their best to accommodate We R Who We R without cracking and splintering into a million pieces, the Connor's front door swung open and out Casey came. He carried one extra large bag for tonight's adventure in Columbus; the flu had left just in time, Casey getting the go-ahead to enjoy the Radiohead concert they'd planned on going to months before. And fuck driving home afterward. Zeke had no problem in renting a room at the only place available-the cheapest and not-very-nice motel on the outskirts of the city. He already gave it five stars as it saved him from taking the two-hour drive back covered in concert-funk and deafened. Casey was a little too excited, even if it WAS the first time he was staying at a motel without the parents around...
“The fuck... Kesha?” Casey spat as he got in the passenger seat.
“Ke-dollar-sign-ha, yup.”
“Since the hell when?”
“Since I was able to strike a deal and get it for approximately seventy-eight cents.”
Casey had grimaced and grabbed the case. He grunted in feeling the weight. “Your collection's almost as insane as mine. Only mine holds no SUCK. We're going to see one of the most influential and epic bands of all time, and this is how you celebrate that?”
Zeke had sighed and shook his head through Casey's long-winded soapboxing through most of the ride to school. He'd expected as much, and didn't hold it against him... that much, anyway. After all, he'd been just as ornery about pop-stars mere months before. “I'm not trying to change your mind, y'know,” Zeke had said.
“I'M trying to get you to change the fuckin' autotuned bullshit, myself.”
“Mmm. Too bad, so sad.”
At least Casey had smirked. They'd pulled into the school's lot just as Blow started, parked and Zeke turned the car off. “There, happy now?” He turned to Casey, expecting to see rolling eyes. Instead, the boy was peering at the player.
“What song was that? Still Kesha?”
“Huh? Yea... that's not a mix-CD, it's Cannibal. Actual album.” Zeke said.
“Really?”
“Yeeea...?”
Casey blinked a few times. “I think... yea, that's the song that I caught on the radio, right by the end.”
“Oh, really? Are you a sudden fan?” Zeke asked.
Scoffing, Casey indeed rolled his eyes and stepped out. “C'mon, Timberlake,” he teased before shutting the door. Zeke exited, joined Casey's side and shrugged.
“Yea, he's in there too.”
“Shut up.”
~*~
“I aced every exam... I'm feeling nice.”
Casey looked down at the giant CD case Zeke put in his lap. “What, I get to actually pick the music?”
“Yea. And it's a long-assed drive to Columbus, so choose wisely,” Zeke said. This really was a rare gift. There weren't many that received this honor, but Casey was different. The fact that he'd scored tickets to the most important event Ohio had ever hosted when it'd been sold-out (what connections did he have that Zeke didn't?) earned this reward. Zeke started the car, backed out and threw it into drive. He glanced to Casey, who hadn't opened the case. Instead, Kesha came through again, Blow starting from where it'd left off.
Drink that Kool-Aid, follow my lead
Now you're one of us, you're coming with me
“Well?”
“Just wanna see if it really was that song,” Casey replied.
Zeke cocked an eyebrow and looked back to the road. “The bass of this shit's enough to love.”
“Yea, I guess.” Casey shrugged, scoffed and waved a hand at the player. “But really, it's not like she's got talent. Y'know? And really... 'dirt and glitter cover the floor, pretty and sick...' she's every party girl I've wanted to punch in the nose.”
“Well, that's what she is. A party girl,” Zeke replied. “Would you rather she lied?”
“Huh?”
Smirking again, Zeke went on, “Know why I suddenly like this shit? I thought the same thing, 'this is such bullshit', but she's the most honest outta everyone else on the radio. She's completely unapologetic.” Zeke stopped at a red light and looked to the volume dial. “Let's crank it, it's best that way,” he said before turning it up a few notches. The hard-pounding bass made everything shake; Casey outright giggled.
“You're such a dork,” he said, but he'd started tapping his foot on the floor, his hand also going to beat over his bent-up knee. Zeke didn't bring any attention to it-he was satisfied enough.
~*~
“No, just leave it.”
“Huh?”
“I don't feel like scanning CD titles. Reading in the car makes me puke.”
“We could put it on the radio...?”
“N'aw, just leave it.”
I eat boys up, breakfast and lunch
Then when I'm thirsty, I drink their blood
“But isn't it all so untalented and meaningless?”
“Yea.”
Casey didn't know he was bobbing his head and mouthing the chorus, did he?
~*~
THIS was the Casey Zeke knew. The normally quiet, shy and reserved young man couldn't hide his wild side from Zeke, even when he was sitting still. Here, watching their favorite band live was making the boy hop up and down with everyone else, screaming out the lyrics to Electioneering louder than anyone here was awesome... and, Zeke had to admit, kind of hot.
But every now and again, Zeke noticed the boy slow down and stare ahead as if he was being hypnotized. After seeing it a few times, Zeke determined that it'd happen whenever Johnny Greenwood neared the edge of the stage; Casey's reaction wasn't out-of-line as a true fan of the band couldn't help but go numb seeing the music-magician cast his spell over the crowd, but it felt different.
The real, true answer came when Casey turned to Zeke, wide-eyed and looking delirious and pulled Zeke down to say, “I'd give my virginity to that man.” He moved away fast and his face went beet-red, but he returned to watching the band play as if he hadn't admitted something so important; Zeke's left ear rang louder than the other, Casey's words echoing enough to block out the music.
~*~
It was as if they'd each downed an entire bottle of vodka in one go. Zeke panted, one foot stretched out the driver's side door, cigarette crackling in his fingers-so, so drunk on what he'd just experienced. “I owe you my life,” he said without thinking.
“What for?” Casey said in a breathy voice, obviously overcome as well.
“This shit was sold-out-you got us close enough to feel their sweat. Mind telling me how so I can return the favor someday?”
Casey snapped out of his reverie to grin and chortle. “A gaming friend of mine got extra tickets as a 'just in case'. I gotta be my parents' slave until I'm thirty, or until I get a corner-office job to pay 'em back...”
“Fuck, I've GOT the money. I told you that,” Zeke interrupted.
“You always do. Remember the high-tech digital camera you got me for my birthday? You owe me nothing.”
“That was a gift.”
“Damned right, it was. It's what got me in the front case of the school and a shot at the Art Institute in Boston. Clear the slate, babe.”
Zeke turned his head slowly to face Casey. “'Babe'?”
A pause followed until Casey sank in his seat further and muttered, “S'what I said, yea.”
“Mmm, oh... 'kay.” Zeke shook his head and turned the engine on. He didn't plan on fighting every car in the lot to get out just yet, but he needed something other than their breathing to listen to.
I miss your soft lips, I miss your white sheets...
“This one ain't my fave,” Casey said, grimacing at the stereo.
“OK Computer is on the seventh page, top row on the left,” Zeke replied.
Casey said nothing as he reached to the back-button to track four.
Giggling... Dance.
“Okay, Casey. Fucking admit it.” Zeke raised his eyebrows and gave the boy a hard stare. Casey looked back; a slow smile spread over his face.
“This song owns me.”
Ooh. Zeke hadn't expected THAT. “But... she's such a party-girl-bitch and--” he went to say, but as if the words this place about to blow had suddenly supplied Casey with the most immense power and courage, Zeke was pulled to Casey in a hard jerk and their mouths crashed into each other. The back of Casey's head hit the passenger-side window hard enough to break it, but he only amped it up, his mouth opening wider to deepen the kiss. Zeke was too stunned to move, due mostly to the fact that a boy who'd never kissed anyone in his life really, really knew how to do it.
Casey must have read Zeke's reaction-or lack thereof-differently. He moved away and stared at Zeke through unblinking eyes. “I... I h-had to, I'm sor--”
Now what-what? We're taking control, we get what we want, we do what you don't Kesha said as Zeke made a low growl in his throat, grabbed the back of Casey's head and resumed their kiss in a crash of lips, tongue and teeth. The bass, the sound of people milling around and shouting out in the lot, auto-tuned party-girl, bright headlights flashing in and out, horn blasts, the bass...
~*~
Casey's disappointment over Zeke's not having a portable stereo was evident. He made that clear in his ordering Zeke to get off the main road and into a desolate town-a town that ended up having a long road leading to a vacant, dead cornfield. As it turned out, Casey refused to do anything without track four in the background.
Zeke was sure that their motel room's bed wasn't as comfortable as the driver's seat, especially when Casey threw it back into the lie-down position. He needed to reach over Zeke's lap to do it, which was perfectly fine with Zeke. The boy had straddled him in a flash, reached behind him to restart his new favorite song and pressed himself against Zeke tight.
Giggling... Dance. And dance they did, in their own way. A year ago, Zeke hated everything Kesha was, had just dumped a girl just like her and wouldn't have ever imagined that he'd end up in this position with the class geek... who just happened to be flat-chested and carried a cock. But change was good, very good, going by how hard Zeke was getting.
Casey's camera skills came in damned-good-handy when it came to how deftly he was in flicking open Zeke's jeans' button. Zeke returned the favor, a little clumsier but effective all the same. His hands slid past the loosened waist and swooped to Casey's taut, smooth ass. We're pretty and sick, we're young and we're bored. “Finger me,” Casey begged. Zeke was already there; he stretched his finger to the hole and drove it in. Casey's lower lip dragged over Zeke's mouth and went to the side, a deep moan escaping Casey as his chest went back, hips forward. He curled his fingers in to dig nails into Zeke's bare pelvis. It was Zeke's turn to moan, going shakier and louder when Casey went lower and framed his cock and balls in a light grip.
In a matter of moments, Casey had somehow shucked off his shirt, jeans and underwear-the shoes already removed before they'd even gotten here, leaving him completely and utterly naked to Zeke's eyes. We are taking over-get used to it. All right?
How the car wasn't blown-apart with the pressure built-up inside of it was a wonder. It was a good thing, as a light rain had started to fall. Zeke didn't bother shutting his wide-open window; the light misting offered up incredible stimulation for him, for both of them if Casey's skin going goosefleshed and tight said anything. Touching the boy all over made Zeke feel like he was blind and trying to learn braille.
This place about to... the song came to a close and Zeke groaned as the party-girl went romantic again. He stretched his arm out and smacked the back button-too hard. I don't need you or your brand new Benz, or your bougie friends--
“Z-Zeke, c'mon...”
“I know, I know,” Zeke said with frustration, moving from track three back to four-the repeat function was tapped next to avoid future annoyance. His clothes needed to make their exit; it took a lot of jerking, maneuvering and tugs from the both of them, but it was a success.
Giggling... Dance.
Perhaps the lyrics to Sleazy were fitting... in a way. But that wasn't 'their song'. Zeke didn't doubt that this would've been different if he hadn't spent the seventy-eight cents; perhaps the soundtrack for this act would've been something weird like Paranoid Android or Karma Police, considering what band Casey had slaved himself off for them to see tonight. But on the other side of the coin, perhaps this wouldn't have happened at all if this freaky, auto-tuned mess hadn't been slipped into the case. When Casey spit into his hand and moved it to Zeke's cock, wet-wonderful blitzing Zeke's brain, there was no other music in the world that could compare. Beethoven, The Beatles, Radiohead, whoever the fuck else-they'd be nice to put on when Zeke's music-and-sex hangover was over. When this was over, Zeke would dig into his collection, light two cigarettes (like hell Casey, poster-boy for straight-edged living, would turn it down) and slip The Bends into the player.
Planning ahead wasn't his forte, however. By the time he'd fucked Casey to oblivion, came with a bellow, jerked Casey off, all of which created numerous dents in the fabric covering the roof and ear-splitting cries between the both of them, the song had played six times. However blasted and beautifully-bruised he was, Zeke somehow managed to take the song off of repeat and let his body go limp, besides his hand going to Casey's hip. Casey lie on Zeke's chest, panting and turning his mouth to kiss his collarbone in light presses.
I miss your soft lips, I miss your white sheets, I miss the scratch of your unshaved face on my cheek... It was time for this romance anyway, Zeke supposed. And if this new favorite singer (however auto-tuned and... yes, not exactly talented) could give him the experience he'd just gone through, he supposed he owed her the honor to keep singing for them.
~*~
The sheets were beige, but clean. Relatively. At least there was no smoking-ban in place.
“Are we gonna hide this, or announce it?”
Puff, puff... exhale. “Are we talking whispering the rumor to get everyone going, or a fourteen-by-nine foot neon sign hung over the front door?”
Casey's giggles were little drops made of sugared-sunshine, in Zeke's hallowed opinion. “Somewhere in the middle of those two.”
“Mmm... you DO have access to what gets printed in the school-rag...”
“Delilah would shit out a hundred hyenas.”
“Pfft, she does that every day any-way.”
MORE giggles. “We graduate in two weeks, anyway. How about...” A long, thoughtful pause, ending with Casey's broad, bright grin, “...You drive in like the maniac you are, bass bouncing us into a three-spot parking job and we'll make-out like wolverines to our song, windows open, in front of everyone.”
“Oh. I like.”
“Good. After that display, we'll probably land in the paper without me sneaking it in.”
“Hey Case?”
“Mmm?”
“Is Blow playing on the radio in your brain?”
“Since this morning, non-stop, yea.”
“Keep it on.” Zeke slid his arm out from under Casey's shoulders and pillows, climbed over him and licked his lips. Another giggle, much more girlish than the last...
“Dance,” Casey said in a gritty voice before Zeke nestled himself between Casey's thighs and gave him a kiss that was more cannibalistic than romantic.
This time we're taking names, cos' we don't mess around.