Steam - Z/C, NC-17
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So, all of a rush, this was finished. It went its own way, as they always do. Make sure you've got a box of tissues handy for this one.
Thanks to fantasy_fan, yeuxdebleu, and addie71 for their help on this one. Now the boys want to show you something...
Steam
by Serai
The road rolls away under Mother's wheels, slush spraying against her undercarriage. Casey can hear it, a faint tss tss tss sound under the roar of the GTO's bitch engine. The sky is pale gray, its light lying over the white landscape like a soft whisper of a blanket. He chews his lip a little, hoping the air will stay clear. It isn't supposed to snow again until Monday, but you never know. Christmastime is over, he thinks sadly, Now winter really moves in. The thought's depressing, but the snowy ground rolling past soothes him. He's always loved snow, the deep expanse of endless white - he finds the blankness comforting even in its deadly chill. Its silence hides so many secrets. He shivers.
"Where are we going?" he asks Zeke, who's smoking and tapping his fingers against the wheel. At least he isn't pulling fishtails or otherwise driving like a maniac. Smart enough to know when to stop being a showoff, thank god. Zeke slides him a sidelong look matched by the little grin that always seems to be hiding at the corner of his mouth. He takes a deep drag and stubs his smoke out in the ashtray.
"I'm taking you up to the Rocks," he replies. Casey looks at him, startled, then turns his head away to look out the window. "You've never been there?" Zeke asks.
Casey closes his eyes, a wash of humiliation spreading with the hot flush that fills his face. You can be such an asshole, he thinks. "No," he mumbles, wishing he could disappear through the car floor, "no one to go with." He bites his lip as he feels Zeke's hand, broad and warm, touch his thigh. The fingers stroke gently over him, then take his hand. A brief squeeze, then the hand lets go to move back to the steering wheel. Casey looks over at him, but Zeke's eyes are back on the road.
"You've got someone now," he says quietly. The hills near the river rise before them, skeletal trees outlining the low sky. The sun starts to break over the hilltop, and Casey raises a hand to shield his eyes.
Snow crunches under Casey's boots as they walk up the trail past the creek bridge where Zeke has parked. He jams his gloved hands further into his pockets and wonders for the twentieth time why they're here. Why he's here. Why is he going along with this? It's winter, it's barren, nothing out here now. He watches Zeke walking ahead of him, an old duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Casey knows it's full but not heavy because he tossed it to Zeke from the back seat after they'd gotten out of the car. It bounces against Zeke's back as he walks. There's water in there, too - how far is Zeke planning to walk? Even with the ground blanketed in snow, obscuring any markers, he strides confidently, sure of where he's going. Of course he is, Casey thinks. He's probably been up here dozens of times. He slams the lid on that thought right away. It's not likely to lead to any images he wants to dwell on.
The stillness is total - other than the sounds of their feet and his own breath, Casey can hear nothing in the surrounding landscape. The iced-over creek running near them makes not a sound, and the birds are probably hunkered down in the cold. Suddenly he's uneasy, looking around. Against his will, a ball of fear is forming in his gut. So quiet, so alone, out here where no one comes in this weather. He stops, his breath quickening. After a few steps, Zeke realizes Casey isn't following, and turns. His eyebrows rise in a questioning look. Casey forces his nerve up.
"What are we doing here, Zeke?" he asks, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. He looks around. "It's fucking cold, there's snow everywhere. Why'd you bring me here?"
Zeke looks puzzled for a moment, then a rueful smile appears on his lips. He rubs his forehead, giving Casey a long look, and walks slowly back towards him. Casey fights the urge to back away as his lover comes up close, but Zeke just lifts his hand to stroke Casey's cheek. He leans down then and kisses him. He does it gently, as if he's trying not to scare away a bird or a fawn. The cold nipping at Casey's neck intensifies in contrast to the heat of Zeke's mouth. A little sound passes from Casey's lips, and a soft hum answers it. Zeke deepens the kiss, his tongue caressing Casey's, and then he breaks it to press their foreheads together.
"I want to show you something," he whispers, his breath puffing visibly in the crystalline air, warming Casey's lips and nose. Zeke kisses him again, briefly, then pulls away. "Come on," he urges gently, and resumes walking. After a couple of steps, he turns and walking backwards, says with a grin, "You'll love this. Trust me."
Trust me. The sound of the words is so open and content. Casey hesitates, torn, then pushing through a last moment of fear, he sighs. He doesn't really want to go back, and Zeke sounds so - happy. Anticipation in his voice. Casey takes a deep breath - go on, don't be a pussy - and follows.
After a bit, the trail is winding along a mass of broken stone. Large boulders, some of them taller than Zeke, and shoved and smashed together in disjointed communion, lining the creek along the steep hillside. Casey rounds a corner in the trail and stops.
The trail is empty.
Zeke is nowhere to be seen, and Casey's heart tightens a little with fear. He calls out Zeke's name, but gets no answer. Again he calls, a little louder, and this time Zeke's voice answers him. It's coming from the left, from the rocks. Casey looks closer and sees there's a kind of passage between two of the big boulders that leads into the mass of broken stone. Casey hesitates again - this is nuts - and then slips into the space behind the rocks.
The passage turns, and Zeke is there, smiling at him. Casey can see the odd little trail continues behind him, darkening where a sheet of slate fallen over the stones makes a kind of roof, light appearing again farther past it. Casey smiles a little, his unease fading into curiosity. Zeke's grin widens, and he makes a little come on, come on motion with his head.
As the passage winds, sometimes covered, sometimes open, tightening and then widening as the rocks press in or give way, Casey walks close behind Zeke. He watches the long legs striding slowly before him, and feels his blood starting to rush a little at the sight. Even in his cold-weather clothes, parka thick and shapeless, Zeke still makes his mouth water. Whatever this is, Casey hopes it doesn't take too long. His fear gone, he's thinking now about getting someplace warm - with Zeke, and preferably without the parka.
He's so wrapped up in his thoughts, he doesn't notice the change around him until Zeke stops again and turns to face him. They're in a covered part of the passage, where there's no snow. Casey stops and looks around. The walls are tumbled granite, but… something's odd. He can't put his finger on it. He stretches out a hand and touches the wall. His eyes widen in surprise, and turns to Zeke, whose smile is triumphant.
"It's warm," Casey says in delight.
-------------------------------------
Zeke licks his lower lip when he sees that smile. It never fails to get him lit, that wide open brightness. Casey spends so much time hunkered down, tensed in defensive posture, that to see him drop the armor, open up and just take something in, something amazing, is as good as watching anyone else undress. A light rush of color is suffusing Casey's cheeks; Zeke can see it in the wayward shaft of light filtering down from between the rocks above them. Oh, yeah. He knows what that rosy blush means. Casey's getting hot.
Zeke steps close to him, and puts his hand out to cover Casey's on the rough wall. He presses the hand against the stone, then moves his own palm to press right next to it. He looks into those bright eyes, feeling the warmth spreading through his skin, down to the bones of his hand. When it's warmed through, he takes Casey's hand and slowly presses it to his neck, setting the fingers along his jaw. Casey trails them lightly over his skin, and slips his fingertips into Zeke's mouth. Zeke bares his teeth and bites them gently, licking the tips with quick little touches. He can hear Casey hissing his breath inward, and he reaches his own hand, warm, nearly hot, to lift the bottom edge of Casey's snow jacket and cup his groin, squeezing the hard-on he knew he'd find there. Casey's fingers tighten on Zeke's face, and his groan is loud and surprisingly deep. Zeke leans down and trails his tongue over the soft lips before moving into Casey's mouth.
"Come on," he breathes when he breaks the kiss. "Almost there." He dips his tongue quick between Casey's lips before turning away. He walks on about ten yards, and with a smile, turns right. He knows that to Casey it looks as if he disappeared into the wall, but it's only how the edge of one large rock is angled near another so the opening between them is hidden. Just a couple of steps and he turns back to watch Casey discover the space.
Where he enters, the ceiling is just above Zeke's head, but lifts up as the space opens out farther down, til it's at least twice as high at the far end, about fifteen feet away. There a shaft of light filters from above, illuminating the rock walls and barren ground, and the basin scooped out of the tumbled rock by the constant flow of the spring that trickles brightly, steaming hot, from a low crack in one wall. Billows of vapor catch the pale light, and Casey's smile brightens even more. "Oh, my god," he marvels, "this is amazing." He walks over to the water and squats down to look at it, unzipping his jacket in the warmth as he does so. When he raises a hand up to touch the steam, the light shining against the skin of his upturned throat, Zeke's breath is suddenly caught, and he's unable to move as he takes in the sight. If asked to describe it, he could only say I wish I had a camera right now.
The moment slides by and is gone. "Careful," he warns. "It's a lot hotter than you think." He approaches and looks down at Casey.
"This is why the rocks are so warm?" Casey asks, looking around. The space is wider on this end, with several smaller rocks in it, and Zeke sees him notice the most prominent one, a long, fairly flat piece against the far wall. Sometime in the last couple of millenia, it broke off from the boulder above it, slamming to earth with enough force to bury it halfway in the ground, and in so doing, created the shaft that lets in the light illuminating the fallen stone and reflecting into the little chamber. Zeke smiles as he sees Casey's thoughts flicker across his face and settle in, as clear as day. He touches Casey's forehead and moves his fingers into his hair, caressing. Beads of moisture are beginning to cling to Casey's hair and dampen his skin, the heat flushing it enticingly.
"Yeah," Zeke says. "The spring threads through this side of the hill. It comes up in a couple of places, but this is the only one that's really accessible." The threads and curls of vapor meander gently through the air on their way up towards the light. Casey stands up slowly.
Zeke takes hold of Casey's jacket and slowly pulls it off him, then runs his fingers over the flushed cheek. Casey reaches up and brings his head down. He kisses him deep, and Zeke grunts and wraps his arms around him, his hands snaking down to squeeze Casey's ass, and they grind together for a moment. Casey's fingers find the zipper of Zeke's parka and pull down, then slip around and under his sweater, pull up the t-shirt below and finds his skin. Zeke sighs at the feel of Casey's fingers sliding over his back and then down past his waistband. When they squeeze him back, he bites Casey's lip and thrusts against him, then pulls back.
They look at each other a long moment, then snap and lunge at each other, mouths hungry, fingers tearing at each other's clothes. Zeke pulls his parka off and drops it on the floor, then kneels down onto it, spreading it open with one hand as his other pulls Casey down with him. They yank each other's shirts open and off, Casey's mouth biting Zeke's lips, and he pushes him down onto the thick padded fabric. It gets him so fucking hot when Casey takes over, and he gladly lies back and lets him, watching those strong, soft hands unzipping his pants and slipping in to grasp his dick, aching and hard. Zeke gasps and Casey catches the sound with his mouth, Zeke's desperate little grunts as he begins stroking, finding that rhythm that makes him close his eyes and tip his head back, biting his lip as he arches up. That hand keeps squeezing and pulling, bringing him higher, up into the sharp, the tight hot darkness, sweet wet mouth on his neck moving down, sucking, licking at his skin, teeth stroking gently against his belly, tongue trailing and suddenly he's enveloped in that tight wet mouth, sucking him, sucking him, the dark, the dark, oh god, Casey...
----------------------------
A long while later, they're lying naked on the long, flat surface of the broken shard of rock, padded by the blanket from Zeke's duffel bag. Casey is up on one elbow, watching Zeke's face illuminated by the chill wintry light filtering down on them from above. Over here, the warmth is occasionally pierced by tiny threads of cool air that find their way in along the wall, raising little runnels of gooseflesh along his arm. Casey is gently running his thumb over Zeke's eyebrow, along the tiny seam he can barely see. In another week or two it'll be gone, the only evidence of the awful day he learned what was going on in Zeke's life, in his family. Zeke closes his eyes and leans into the touch for a moment.
"No," he says, "I told you. She doesn't know. No way she'd sit by if she did." He opens his eyes but doesn't look at Casey, and begins caressing the raised skin of his arm. "She sent me away to school last time because she thought things might turn bad." He swallows. "I get that part. I do. Can't have been easy for him, all those years. After all, I'm," and his voice nearly breaks, but just nearly, "I'm somebody else's kid, right?" He looks away. "I just wish -" and Casey hears the rest so clearly that he takes Zeke's jaw in his hand and turns his face back. He runs his lips gently along the high cheekbone, to the creases at the edge of Zeke's eye.
"I want you," he whispers against his lover's skin. Zeke draws a sharp breath in and closes his eyes. His answering whisper is barely within hearing - "Say that again" - and the thread of anguish in that breath tugs at Casey's heart. He knows that sense of betrayal.
"I want you," he repeats, then bends to whisper in his ear, "I want you." He punctuates his word with biting little kisses along Zeke's jawline. "I. want. you. I want you," he continues, repeating the words over and over as he runs his hands over the long, supple body, sliding along the damp, hot skin. Zeke's breath quickens, sounding loud as Casey murmurs to him, and his fingers tighten convulsively in his hair. Casey winces at the pain, but keeps going, trailing the tip of his tongue over Zeke's skin, repeating the words like an incantation, cocooning him in their embrace. "I want you, I want you," and Zeke moans finally and takes his mouth, kissing him with a frantic hunger that's a little scary. He rolls them both over, and Casey winds his arms around him, pressing him tight. They move and thrust against each other, until the sounds from Zeke's mouth change and Casey realizes he's not wanting anymore but weeping, the tears trickling from Zeke's face onto his. He breaks the kiss and looks up into the dark golden eyes, the face above him furrowed and creased with pain. After a moment, Zeke collapses onto him, his breath hot against Casey's neck.
"He was my dad," Zeke chokes out after a long minute. "He was my dad, and then one day it was like he wasn't anymore, and -" he almost can't continue, then he does, "I didn't know why. Nobody would tell me, and I was too scared to ask. I just knew he didn't want me anymore." He goes quiet then, his chest heaving with low, racking sobs. Casey hangs on tight, letting him cry. He runs his mouth over Zeke's forehead gently. Minutes go by as Zeke hurts, the pain pouring out of him. Eventually he settles down, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand.
"It wasn't until I came to Herrington that my mom told me what happened," he says in a listless, squeezed-out voice. "It's her house, the one I live in. She told me she'd already planned to give it to me, but she thought it'd be better if I moved in and took it over while I went to high school." The words sound recited, like something rehearsed, even though Casey's almost sure he's never told this story before. Zeke looks at him. "How many kids get handed their own houses at sixteen? Get to run their own lives? Lucky me." His face crumples again and he lays his head down on Casey's chest, letting out a hitching sigh, and closes his eyes.
Casey's isn't sure what to do next. He still doesn't know how to comfort Zeke, not really. The guy spends so much of his life aloof, above it all, seemingly impervious to injury or insult, that seeing him like this feels wrong to Casey. It's just wrong, a deep scar in his world, a crack in the fabric, a void. It suddenly occurs to Casey that this is why Zeke is repeating his senior year - because he has no place to go in a world that doesn't want him, and that he does understand. He runs his hands through Zeke's hair and presses his lips to it, tasting the hot dampness. He wants to stop the pain, but he doesn't know how, and there's a part of him that's afraid to try for fear of what Zeke might do. It shames him, but it's true - Casey still can't completely trust him, even now when he's so broken and helpless. Especially now, maybe.
Goddammit, he thinks, I'm not good enough for this. He closes his eyes and wipes a tear off his own face. You need someone strong. He strokes Zeke's back, feeling him relax into an exhausted sleep, and shame cramps his heart at the sense of relief that washes over him. Casey covers his eyes with one hand and, trying to keep still, begins to cry.
Chapter 28 of High Contrast
Chapter 29
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So, all of a rush, this was finished. It went its own way, as they always do. Make sure you've got a box of tissues handy for this one.
Thanks to fantasy_fan, yeuxdebleu, and addie71 for their help on this one. Now the boys want to show you something...
Steam
by Serai
The road rolls away under Mother's wheels, slush spraying against her undercarriage. Casey can hear it, a faint tss tss tss sound under the roar of the GTO's bitch engine. The sky is pale gray, its light lying over the white landscape like a soft whisper of a blanket. He chews his lip a little, hoping the air will stay clear. It isn't supposed to snow again until Monday, but you never know. Christmastime is over, he thinks sadly, Now winter really moves in. The thought's depressing, but the snowy ground rolling past soothes him. He's always loved snow, the deep expanse of endless white - he finds the blankness comforting even in its deadly chill. Its silence hides so many secrets. He shivers.
"Where are we going?" he asks Zeke, who's smoking and tapping his fingers against the wheel. At least he isn't pulling fishtails or otherwise driving like a maniac. Smart enough to know when to stop being a showoff, thank god. Zeke slides him a sidelong look matched by the little grin that always seems to be hiding at the corner of his mouth. He takes a deep drag and stubs his smoke out in the ashtray.
"I'm taking you up to the Rocks," he replies. Casey looks at him, startled, then turns his head away to look out the window. "You've never been there?" Zeke asks.
Casey closes his eyes, a wash of humiliation spreading with the hot flush that fills his face. You can be such an asshole, he thinks. "No," he mumbles, wishing he could disappear through the car floor, "no one to go with." He bites his lip as he feels Zeke's hand, broad and warm, touch his thigh. The fingers stroke gently over him, then take his hand. A brief squeeze, then the hand lets go to move back to the steering wheel. Casey looks over at him, but Zeke's eyes are back on the road.
"You've got someone now," he says quietly. The hills near the river rise before them, skeletal trees outlining the low sky. The sun starts to break over the hilltop, and Casey raises a hand to shield his eyes.
Snow crunches under Casey's boots as they walk up the trail past the creek bridge where Zeke has parked. He jams his gloved hands further into his pockets and wonders for the twentieth time why they're here. Why he's here. Why is he going along with this? It's winter, it's barren, nothing out here now. He watches Zeke walking ahead of him, an old duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Casey knows it's full but not heavy because he tossed it to Zeke from the back seat after they'd gotten out of the car. It bounces against Zeke's back as he walks. There's water in there, too - how far is Zeke planning to walk? Even with the ground blanketed in snow, obscuring any markers, he strides confidently, sure of where he's going. Of course he is, Casey thinks. He's probably been up here dozens of times. He slams the lid on that thought right away. It's not likely to lead to any images he wants to dwell on.
The stillness is total - other than the sounds of their feet and his own breath, Casey can hear nothing in the surrounding landscape. The iced-over creek running near them makes not a sound, and the birds are probably hunkered down in the cold. Suddenly he's uneasy, looking around. Against his will, a ball of fear is forming in his gut. So quiet, so alone, out here where no one comes in this weather. He stops, his breath quickening. After a few steps, Zeke realizes Casey isn't following, and turns. His eyebrows rise in a questioning look. Casey forces his nerve up.
"What are we doing here, Zeke?" he asks, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. He looks around. "It's fucking cold, there's snow everywhere. Why'd you bring me here?"
Zeke looks puzzled for a moment, then a rueful smile appears on his lips. He rubs his forehead, giving Casey a long look, and walks slowly back towards him. Casey fights the urge to back away as his lover comes up close, but Zeke just lifts his hand to stroke Casey's cheek. He leans down then and kisses him. He does it gently, as if he's trying not to scare away a bird or a fawn. The cold nipping at Casey's neck intensifies in contrast to the heat of Zeke's mouth. A little sound passes from Casey's lips, and a soft hum answers it. Zeke deepens the kiss, his tongue caressing Casey's, and then he breaks it to press their foreheads together.
"I want to show you something," he whispers, his breath puffing visibly in the crystalline air, warming Casey's lips and nose. Zeke kisses him again, briefly, then pulls away. "Come on," he urges gently, and resumes walking. After a couple of steps, he turns and walking backwards, says with a grin, "You'll love this. Trust me."
Trust me. The sound of the words is so open and content. Casey hesitates, torn, then pushing through a last moment of fear, he sighs. He doesn't really want to go back, and Zeke sounds so - happy. Anticipation in his voice. Casey takes a deep breath - go on, don't be a pussy - and follows.
After a bit, the trail is winding along a mass of broken stone. Large boulders, some of them taller than Zeke, and shoved and smashed together in disjointed communion, lining the creek along the steep hillside. Casey rounds a corner in the trail and stops.
The trail is empty.
Zeke is nowhere to be seen, and Casey's heart tightens a little with fear. He calls out Zeke's name, but gets no answer. Again he calls, a little louder, and this time Zeke's voice answers him. It's coming from the left, from the rocks. Casey looks closer and sees there's a kind of passage between two of the big boulders that leads into the mass of broken stone. Casey hesitates again - this is nuts - and then slips into the space behind the rocks.
The passage turns, and Zeke is there, smiling at him. Casey can see the odd little trail continues behind him, darkening where a sheet of slate fallen over the stones makes a kind of roof, light appearing again farther past it. Casey smiles a little, his unease fading into curiosity. Zeke's grin widens, and he makes a little come on, come on motion with his head.
As the passage winds, sometimes covered, sometimes open, tightening and then widening as the rocks press in or give way, Casey walks close behind Zeke. He watches the long legs striding slowly before him, and feels his blood starting to rush a little at the sight. Even in his cold-weather clothes, parka thick and shapeless, Zeke still makes his mouth water. Whatever this is, Casey hopes it doesn't take too long. His fear gone, he's thinking now about getting someplace warm - with Zeke, and preferably without the parka.
He's so wrapped up in his thoughts, he doesn't notice the change around him until Zeke stops again and turns to face him. They're in a covered part of the passage, where there's no snow. Casey stops and looks around. The walls are tumbled granite, but… something's odd. He can't put his finger on it. He stretches out a hand and touches the wall. His eyes widen in surprise, and turns to Zeke, whose smile is triumphant.
"It's warm," Casey says in delight.
-------------------------------------
Zeke licks his lower lip when he sees that smile. It never fails to get him lit, that wide open brightness. Casey spends so much time hunkered down, tensed in defensive posture, that to see him drop the armor, open up and just take something in, something amazing, is as good as watching anyone else undress. A light rush of color is suffusing Casey's cheeks; Zeke can see it in the wayward shaft of light filtering down from between the rocks above them. Oh, yeah. He knows what that rosy blush means. Casey's getting hot.
Zeke steps close to him, and puts his hand out to cover Casey's on the rough wall. He presses the hand against the stone, then moves his own palm to press right next to it. He looks into those bright eyes, feeling the warmth spreading through his skin, down to the bones of his hand. When it's warmed through, he takes Casey's hand and slowly presses it to his neck, setting the fingers along his jaw. Casey trails them lightly over his skin, and slips his fingertips into Zeke's mouth. Zeke bares his teeth and bites them gently, licking the tips with quick little touches. He can hear Casey hissing his breath inward, and he reaches his own hand, warm, nearly hot, to lift the bottom edge of Casey's snow jacket and cup his groin, squeezing the hard-on he knew he'd find there. Casey's fingers tighten on Zeke's face, and his groan is loud and surprisingly deep. Zeke leans down and trails his tongue over the soft lips before moving into Casey's mouth.
"Come on," he breathes when he breaks the kiss. "Almost there." He dips his tongue quick between Casey's lips before turning away. He walks on about ten yards, and with a smile, turns right. He knows that to Casey it looks as if he disappeared into the wall, but it's only how the edge of one large rock is angled near another so the opening between them is hidden. Just a couple of steps and he turns back to watch Casey discover the space.
Where he enters, the ceiling is just above Zeke's head, but lifts up as the space opens out farther down, til it's at least twice as high at the far end, about fifteen feet away. There a shaft of light filters from above, illuminating the rock walls and barren ground, and the basin scooped out of the tumbled rock by the constant flow of the spring that trickles brightly, steaming hot, from a low crack in one wall. Billows of vapor catch the pale light, and Casey's smile brightens even more. "Oh, my god," he marvels, "this is amazing." He walks over to the water and squats down to look at it, unzipping his jacket in the warmth as he does so. When he raises a hand up to touch the steam, the light shining against the skin of his upturned throat, Zeke's breath is suddenly caught, and he's unable to move as he takes in the sight. If asked to describe it, he could only say I wish I had a camera right now.
The moment slides by and is gone. "Careful," he warns. "It's a lot hotter than you think." He approaches and looks down at Casey.
"This is why the rocks are so warm?" Casey asks, looking around. The space is wider on this end, with several smaller rocks in it, and Zeke sees him notice the most prominent one, a long, fairly flat piece against the far wall. Sometime in the last couple of millenia, it broke off from the boulder above it, slamming to earth with enough force to bury it halfway in the ground, and in so doing, created the shaft that lets in the light illuminating the fallen stone and reflecting into the little chamber. Zeke smiles as he sees Casey's thoughts flicker across his face and settle in, as clear as day. He touches Casey's forehead and moves his fingers into his hair, caressing. Beads of moisture are beginning to cling to Casey's hair and dampen his skin, the heat flushing it enticingly.
"Yeah," Zeke says. "The spring threads through this side of the hill. It comes up in a couple of places, but this is the only one that's really accessible." The threads and curls of vapor meander gently through the air on their way up towards the light. Casey stands up slowly.
Zeke takes hold of Casey's jacket and slowly pulls it off him, then runs his fingers over the flushed cheek. Casey reaches up and brings his head down. He kisses him deep, and Zeke grunts and wraps his arms around him, his hands snaking down to squeeze Casey's ass, and they grind together for a moment. Casey's fingers find the zipper of Zeke's parka and pull down, then slip around and under his sweater, pull up the t-shirt below and finds his skin. Zeke sighs at the feel of Casey's fingers sliding over his back and then down past his waistband. When they squeeze him back, he bites Casey's lip and thrusts against him, then pulls back.
They look at each other a long moment, then snap and lunge at each other, mouths hungry, fingers tearing at each other's clothes. Zeke pulls his parka off and drops it on the floor, then kneels down onto it, spreading it open with one hand as his other pulls Casey down with him. They yank each other's shirts open and off, Casey's mouth biting Zeke's lips, and he pushes him down onto the thick padded fabric. It gets him so fucking hot when Casey takes over, and he gladly lies back and lets him, watching those strong, soft hands unzipping his pants and slipping in to grasp his dick, aching and hard. Zeke gasps and Casey catches the sound with his mouth, Zeke's desperate little grunts as he begins stroking, finding that rhythm that makes him close his eyes and tip his head back, biting his lip as he arches up. That hand keeps squeezing and pulling, bringing him higher, up into the sharp, the tight hot darkness, sweet wet mouth on his neck moving down, sucking, licking at his skin, teeth stroking gently against his belly, tongue trailing and suddenly he's enveloped in that tight wet mouth, sucking him, sucking him, the dark, the dark, oh god, Casey...
----------------------------
A long while later, they're lying naked on the long, flat surface of the broken shard of rock, padded by the blanket from Zeke's duffel bag. Casey is up on one elbow, watching Zeke's face illuminated by the chill wintry light filtering down on them from above. Over here, the warmth is occasionally pierced by tiny threads of cool air that find their way in along the wall, raising little runnels of gooseflesh along his arm. Casey is gently running his thumb over Zeke's eyebrow, along the tiny seam he can barely see. In another week or two it'll be gone, the only evidence of the awful day he learned what was going on in Zeke's life, in his family. Zeke closes his eyes and leans into the touch for a moment.
"No," he says, "I told you. She doesn't know. No way she'd sit by if she did." He opens his eyes but doesn't look at Casey, and begins caressing the raised skin of his arm. "She sent me away to school last time because she thought things might turn bad." He swallows. "I get that part. I do. Can't have been easy for him, all those years. After all, I'm," and his voice nearly breaks, but just nearly, "I'm somebody else's kid, right?" He looks away. "I just wish -" and Casey hears the rest so clearly that he takes Zeke's jaw in his hand and turns his face back. He runs his lips gently along the high cheekbone, to the creases at the edge of Zeke's eye.
"I want you," he whispers against his lover's skin. Zeke draws a sharp breath in and closes his eyes. His answering whisper is barely within hearing - "Say that again" - and the thread of anguish in that breath tugs at Casey's heart. He knows that sense of betrayal.
"I want you," he repeats, then bends to whisper in his ear, "I want you." He punctuates his word with biting little kisses along Zeke's jawline. "I. want. you. I want you," he continues, repeating the words over and over as he runs his hands over the long, supple body, sliding along the damp, hot skin. Zeke's breath quickens, sounding loud as Casey murmurs to him, and his fingers tighten convulsively in his hair. Casey winces at the pain, but keeps going, trailing the tip of his tongue over Zeke's skin, repeating the words like an incantation, cocooning him in their embrace. "I want you, I want you," and Zeke moans finally and takes his mouth, kissing him with a frantic hunger that's a little scary. He rolls them both over, and Casey winds his arms around him, pressing him tight. They move and thrust against each other, until the sounds from Zeke's mouth change and Casey realizes he's not wanting anymore but weeping, the tears trickling from Zeke's face onto his. He breaks the kiss and looks up into the dark golden eyes, the face above him furrowed and creased with pain. After a moment, Zeke collapses onto him, his breath hot against Casey's neck.
"He was my dad," Zeke chokes out after a long minute. "He was my dad, and then one day it was like he wasn't anymore, and -" he almost can't continue, then he does, "I didn't know why. Nobody would tell me, and I was too scared to ask. I just knew he didn't want me anymore." He goes quiet then, his chest heaving with low, racking sobs. Casey hangs on tight, letting him cry. He runs his mouth over Zeke's forehead gently. Minutes go by as Zeke hurts, the pain pouring out of him. Eventually he settles down, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand.
"It wasn't until I came to Herrington that my mom told me what happened," he says in a listless, squeezed-out voice. "It's her house, the one I live in. She told me she'd already planned to give it to me, but she thought it'd be better if I moved in and took it over while I went to high school." The words sound recited, like something rehearsed, even though Casey's almost sure he's never told this story before. Zeke looks at him. "How many kids get handed their own houses at sixteen? Get to run their own lives? Lucky me." His face crumples again and he lays his head down on Casey's chest, letting out a hitching sigh, and closes his eyes.
Casey's isn't sure what to do next. He still doesn't know how to comfort Zeke, not really. The guy spends so much of his life aloof, above it all, seemingly impervious to injury or insult, that seeing him like this feels wrong to Casey. It's just wrong, a deep scar in his world, a crack in the fabric, a void. It suddenly occurs to Casey that this is why Zeke is repeating his senior year - because he has no place to go in a world that doesn't want him, and that he does understand. He runs his hands through Zeke's hair and presses his lips to it, tasting the hot dampness. He wants to stop the pain, but he doesn't know how, and there's a part of him that's afraid to try for fear of what Zeke might do. It shames him, but it's true - Casey still can't completely trust him, even now when he's so broken and helpless. Especially now, maybe.
Goddammit, he thinks, I'm not good enough for this. He closes his eyes and wipes a tear off his own face. You need someone strong. He strokes Zeke's back, feeling him relax into an exhausted sleep, and shame cramps his heart at the sense of relief that washes over him. Casey covers his eyes with one hand and, trying to keep still, begins to cry.
Chapter 28 of High Contrast
Chapter 29
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