Unexpected - Z/C, NC-17
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Merry Christmas, everyone!
This is for aliensouldream, who requested Christmas fics. Didn't think I'd make it, but I did!
Prompt: It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags!
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Unexpected
The glass of his bedroom window is frosty, and it bites Casey's skin where he leans his forehead. It's supposed to snow again tomorrow. Claire Stanton's cackle comes echoing up the hallway stairs outside his room, and Casey closes his eyes. Man, he hates that woman. Why do his parents keep inviting her every year? He closes his eyes, wishing.
At first, he'd been relieved when Zeke left for England to meet up with his parents. It was like a weight had been lifted from him, a weight of emotion and expectation. And, he had to admit, fear. It was still there, that apprehension, keeping him uncertain, off balance. Perhaps things would go back to normal for a bit, and let him catch his breath.
It wasn't long, though (just a few days really), before he started to feel the ache. It turned out back to normal meant only boredom, loneliness, and the return of that deep-seated feeling that he didn't really matter to anyone in the scheme of things. That everyone might be happier without him here to take up room in their lives. Before Zeke, there was no one who understood that feeling, no one he could think of who would know what it felt like. Now there's someone, and he left during the part of the year when that feeling darkens Casey's life more than any other.
Jazzy Christmas music plays downstairs, muffled up here. Casey opens his eyes to look at the sky, hard and diamond-bright with stars. Maybe if he sits quietly, they'll forget he's even here. He wouldn't mind their forgetting him tonight. He doesn't think he can take an entire Christmas Eve with his parent's friends again. Not this year. Not tonight.
He leans his shoulder against the windowsill and slides down to sit in the chair below. Rooftops shine with snow from yesterday's fall, glittering. He imagines what it would feel like to sit here with warm arms wrapped around him, his own arms entwined with them. How long it would take to go from just sitting to kissing to groping. Not long, that's for sure. He sighs and rubs the cold from his cheek, and in doing so discovers the tear running down his face. He's looking at the moisture on his fingers when the rumble of an engine sounds up the block.
Out in the dark by the corner, a pair of headlights appear. As Casey watches, the car sits there idling, and then the headlights flick off and on again, off and on again. Casey's heart leaps in his chest, and he gasps. Three times - it's a signal, he knows it is. After a moment, the car turns into the light. Black, orange-striped hood - it's Mother, Zeke's GTO, and Casey knows it's headed for the alley that runs past the house's tall backyard fence. He jumps up eagerly and just manages not to leap down the stairs.
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The cold outside slides sharp into his collar, and Casey pulls it closed and fastens it, then shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his winter coat. He was both relieved and hurt when his mother reacted to his "Going out for some fresh air" with a distracted "Dinner's at seven, honey." Would she even notice if he didn't come back? That's dumb, of course she would. But he does wonder how long it would take. There's so much his parents don't notice about him. Pretty much everything that's really important.
He slips through the backyard and opens the door in the fence that leads to the alley. He can hear Mother's engine already, singing its dark, menacing chant. It's always scared Casey a little, but he's slowly losing his fear of that sound. It feels different now, less a wild threat and more of a lustful purr, inviting rather than warning. He can see a tiny spark of red flare and fade in the cavernous dark of the car's interior - Zeke's smoking, of course. Casey's mouth actually starts watering, and he almost laughs at how addicted he finds himself. Almost.
Heat plumes out, enveloping and filling him, as Casey opens the door and slides in. "Hey." Zeke's voice is a deep sound that matches his car's dark growling. Casey's lover is leaning against the driver's side door, a hand on his chest and the other busy with his cigarette. He gives Casey a lazy smile, leans forward and stubs out his smoke. Or he tries to, but Casey suddenly grabbing him makes it difficult. Zeke chuckle is smothered in the kiss that silences him, and within seconds, they're clutching and devouring, Casey practically climbing into his lap.
"What are you doing here?" Casey asks when they come up for air. "I thought you were gonna be gone until after New Year's."
Zeke has a hand in Casey's hair, and the other is sliding over him, cupping his ass and squeezing. "Couldn't take it anymore," he murmurs, and laughs. "So I made myself a pain until they were glad to see me gone." He kisses Casey again, deep. "Let's get in the back," he whispers, and Casey shivers.
"I don't have much time," he says, running his hands over Zeke's thighs, squeezing.
"That's okay," Zeke says, and pulls himself up to climb over the seat. He flops himself down full-length in the back (as full-length as he can get, anyway) and watches Casey wriggle over and onto him. "I didn't get a chance to wrap your present, though." He arches his eyebrows.
Casey licks Zeke's neck as he starts undoing the buttons on his jeans. "Oh, I don't know," he murmurs. "Seems to me it's wrapped up fine, and now I get to open it." Zeke licks his lips and flicks the top button of Casey's jeans open, slides the zip down all the way, then pulls Casey to him so they can rub together. Their mouths lock, wet, hot.
"So tell me," Casey demands as he starts moving his hips, sliding his dick against his lover's, "what was it like?" kissing him frantically until Zeke pushes up and rolls them both over in the tight confines of the back seat.
"Damp," Zeke gasps, coming up for air, "and cold," his hands running over Casey's skin, "and those fucking depressing grey skies. I couldn't wait to get back to the hotel every night so I could picture you naked and jerk off, thinking about fucking you," and now he's growling, thrusting hard against Casey with each word, feverish, hungry.
Casey moans and shoves back, hisses, "Good thing they let you come home early." He slips his hand down, taking hold of Zeke's dick, hard in his hand, hot, god yeah c'mere missed this missed you, "'Cuz after two weeks, you're not the only one going insane," and they fall into each other, breathing the engine's thick warmth and each other's heat, the cold and solitude already a distant memory.
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Chapter 42 of High Contrast
Merry Christmas, everyone!
This is for aliensouldream, who requested Christmas fics. Didn't think I'd make it, but I did!
Prompt: It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags!
------------------------------------------
Unexpected
The glass of his bedroom window is frosty, and it bites Casey's skin where he leans his forehead. It's supposed to snow again tomorrow. Claire Stanton's cackle comes echoing up the hallway stairs outside his room, and Casey closes his eyes. Man, he hates that woman. Why do his parents keep inviting her every year? He closes his eyes, wishing.
At first, he'd been relieved when Zeke left for England to meet up with his parents. It was like a weight had been lifted from him, a weight of emotion and expectation. And, he had to admit, fear. It was still there, that apprehension, keeping him uncertain, off balance. Perhaps things would go back to normal for a bit, and let him catch his breath.
It wasn't long, though (just a few days really), before he started to feel the ache. It turned out back to normal meant only boredom, loneliness, and the return of that deep-seated feeling that he didn't really matter to anyone in the scheme of things. That everyone might be happier without him here to take up room in their lives. Before Zeke, there was no one who understood that feeling, no one he could think of who would know what it felt like. Now there's someone, and he left during the part of the year when that feeling darkens Casey's life more than any other.
Jazzy Christmas music plays downstairs, muffled up here. Casey opens his eyes to look at the sky, hard and diamond-bright with stars. Maybe if he sits quietly, they'll forget he's even here. He wouldn't mind their forgetting him tonight. He doesn't think he can take an entire Christmas Eve with his parent's friends again. Not this year. Not tonight.
He leans his shoulder against the windowsill and slides down to sit in the chair below. Rooftops shine with snow from yesterday's fall, glittering. He imagines what it would feel like to sit here with warm arms wrapped around him, his own arms entwined with them. How long it would take to go from just sitting to kissing to groping. Not long, that's for sure. He sighs and rubs the cold from his cheek, and in doing so discovers the tear running down his face. He's looking at the moisture on his fingers when the rumble of an engine sounds up the block.
Out in the dark by the corner, a pair of headlights appear. As Casey watches, the car sits there idling, and then the headlights flick off and on again, off and on again. Casey's heart leaps in his chest, and he gasps. Three times - it's a signal, he knows it is. After a moment, the car turns into the light. Black, orange-striped hood - it's Mother, Zeke's GTO, and Casey knows it's headed for the alley that runs past the house's tall backyard fence. He jumps up eagerly and just manages not to leap down the stairs.
------------------------------
The cold outside slides sharp into his collar, and Casey pulls it closed and fastens it, then shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his winter coat. He was both relieved and hurt when his mother reacted to his "Going out for some fresh air" with a distracted "Dinner's at seven, honey." Would she even notice if he didn't come back? That's dumb, of course she would. But he does wonder how long it would take. There's so much his parents don't notice about him. Pretty much everything that's really important.
He slips through the backyard and opens the door in the fence that leads to the alley. He can hear Mother's engine already, singing its dark, menacing chant. It's always scared Casey a little, but he's slowly losing his fear of that sound. It feels different now, less a wild threat and more of a lustful purr, inviting rather than warning. He can see a tiny spark of red flare and fade in the cavernous dark of the car's interior - Zeke's smoking, of course. Casey's mouth actually starts watering, and he almost laughs at how addicted he finds himself. Almost.
Heat plumes out, enveloping and filling him, as Casey opens the door and slides in. "Hey." Zeke's voice is a deep sound that matches his car's dark growling. Casey's lover is leaning against the driver's side door, a hand on his chest and the other busy with his cigarette. He gives Casey a lazy smile, leans forward and stubs out his smoke. Or he tries to, but Casey suddenly grabbing him makes it difficult. Zeke chuckle is smothered in the kiss that silences him, and within seconds, they're clutching and devouring, Casey practically climbing into his lap.
"What are you doing here?" Casey asks when they come up for air. "I thought you were gonna be gone until after New Year's."
Zeke has a hand in Casey's hair, and the other is sliding over him, cupping his ass and squeezing. "Couldn't take it anymore," he murmurs, and laughs. "So I made myself a pain until they were glad to see me gone." He kisses Casey again, deep. "Let's get in the back," he whispers, and Casey shivers.
"I don't have much time," he says, running his hands over Zeke's thighs, squeezing.
"That's okay," Zeke says, and pulls himself up to climb over the seat. He flops himself down full-length in the back (as full-length as he can get, anyway) and watches Casey wriggle over and onto him. "I didn't get a chance to wrap your present, though." He arches his eyebrows.
Casey licks Zeke's neck as he starts undoing the buttons on his jeans. "Oh, I don't know," he murmurs. "Seems to me it's wrapped up fine, and now I get to open it." Zeke licks his lips and flicks the top button of Casey's jeans open, slides the zip down all the way, then pulls Casey to him so they can rub together. Their mouths lock, wet, hot.
"So tell me," Casey demands as he starts moving his hips, sliding his dick against his lover's, "what was it like?" kissing him frantically until Zeke pushes up and rolls them both over in the tight confines of the back seat.
"Damp," Zeke gasps, coming up for air, "and cold," his hands running over Casey's skin, "and those fucking depressing grey skies. I couldn't wait to get back to the hotel every night so I could picture you naked and jerk off, thinking about fucking you," and now he's growling, thrusting hard against Casey with each word, feverish, hungry.
Casey moans and shoves back, hisses, "Good thing they let you come home early." He slips his hand down, taking hold of Zeke's dick, hard in his hand, hot, god yeah c'mere missed this missed you, "'Cuz after two weeks, you're not the only one going insane," and they fall into each other, breathing the engine's thick warmth and each other's heat, the cold and solitude already a distant memory.
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Chapter 42 of High Contrast