Mistletoe - Z/C, NC-17
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This is for Mewsie and for aliensouldream. Your # 4 prompt shows up briefly here, otherwise it's just an excuse to jump on your bandwagon. ;)
Note: I'm not sure this chapter is actually finished. But here it is for now, a Yule gift for you all.
Mistletoe
Zeke flinched as a balled-up piece of paper, impatiently thrown, hit his head. "Heads up, Buckeye," Jim barked. No, not Jim, never Jim, but that's what Zeke called him nonetheless. A little payback for the fucking nickname. "You listening to me? This game'll put at least fifty grand in our pockets, so pay attention."
Pay attention. As if he hadn't been paying attention for months now. Zeke had always been a quick study when he was interested, and considering how easy some people were to fleece, he was usually interested. He'd always known most people were idiots, but never realized just how dumb they could be. Especially the women. Holy shit. All Jim had to do was turn on the charm, twinkle those green eyes at them and they practically fell over on their backs, tossing their purses at Zeke for good measure. Incredible.
Zeke was no slouch, either. He took up the little-brother, wayward-nephew, just-in-from-the-sticks-friend slot, and found it easy to take on whatever role was required. Maybe he should have been an actor. Nah, too much effort for not enough return. This was better. Scams paid quick and easy, and they were away before anyone knew what had happened. Zeke waited for the day when Jim would say it was his turn to take the lead, but it hadn't come yet. Patience, Grasshopper, he'd grin. You're hardly even honed yet. It'll take a while longer to sharpen you.
----------
Stepping out of the car held by the hired driver, Jim looked the part of a flashy playboy, his tux fitting like it had been made for him. Zeke wore a slightly more casual suit, black with dark purple lapels and matching shirt. Jim had chosen it at the rental house with an eye towards Zeke's coloring. "That's the one," he'd said, his eyes sharp and his grin appearing at the side as it did when he was satisfied. "Brings your eyes out. That's the key with the ladies," and he'd laughed.
"You look good, Buckeye. Just relax and have a good time. Mingle, but don't fucking drink. Gotta keep our heads clear. You hear me?"
"I hear you," Zeke answered. He felt good tonight. The game wouldn't involve him much; he was here just as a backup, to pull up the strings if things got wobbly. But Jim was in fine form, and Zeke didn't think there'd be a need. Just relax and have a good time. He meant to.
It'd been a year since he got out of that dump of a Tennessee jail. Jim had been as good as his word, giving Zeke a place to stay and steady work as his assistant. They split the takes, which ranged from 80/20 to 60/40, depending on the job. Most of the time it was the lower end, but Zeke had been working his way up a little at a time, and Jim hadn't stinted on rewarding him when it was due. For the first time, Zeke felt comfortable in his own skin, doing what came naturally and what he was good at - bullshitting, running rings around the distracted and the gullible, and watching Jim plow through the female population like he was carving furrows in a field.
The house was massive, what his mom used to call an "old stone pile", every window lit. The decorations were tasteful and subdued - none of that gaudy cloud of flashing lights and tacky life-size figures he'd learned to despise back in Herrington. No, this house had quiet garlands of pine and holly over the windows, and the only lighting effect was the network of white fairy lights wrapping the trunk and branches of the now naked maple in the front yard. The work it must have taken to wrap that entire ten-foot-tall tree spoke to the money here as much as the size of the house. Zeke frowned a little at the thought. Money.
A low cchh sound made him turn. Jim stood in front of the door, gesturing with his head. Damn, he really was stunning. The grin cut dimples into his cheeks and a lock of his shaggy hair dropped over his eyes. He pushed it back and turned towards the door. Zeke took a deep breath and let his own sideways smile twist his lips. It's showtime, folks.
-----------
She was pretty, pale and big-eyed. The living room was a little warm for Zeke's comfort; the crowd had eventually made the heat of the fire redundant. But she stood quite near the fireplace, sheathed in black and tapping her fingernail gentle against the side of her martini and smiling as she looked up at Jim, who was laughing at something she'd just said. Clearly things were going well. She turned her head as she put her drink on the table next to her, and Jim cut his eyes to Zeke, who raised his eyebrows. Jim gave a quick, light wink, and Zeke relaxed. Take a break, the wink meant. He had some time before the shutdown, when Jim would signal him to wander over so they could wind things up. He turned and, seeing the bookcase along one wall, walked over to skim the titles.
Zeke's work with Jim Ford was a blessing in more ways than one. Take tonight, for instance. He was dressed to the nines in lush surroundings, making small talk with the rich and perusing rare books. This evening and a couple of afternoons backup stood to net him twenty grand. Not bad. That he was working this job on Christmas Eve was a bonus. The focus on business meant he wasn't thinking about the date, he wasn't thinking about the past. He was here and now.
His fingers swept over the leather backs of book after book. Seven Levels of Ambiguity. Stewardship and Legacy in the 18th Century. The Pale Brown Thing. Zeke wondered whose collection this was. There didn't seem to be any pattern or connection to the way the books were shelved. What Lies in Silence. A Plain and Serious Bed. Sun and Barleycorn.
He walked over to one of the doors leading to the next room, and had almost reached it when he looked up and froze. Cold water seemed to pour down his back, and the blood rushed to his face. He immediately held his face still, and for a second he almost trembled with the effort to lower his eyes and keep moving through the door.
Mistletoe.
--------------------
Casey's lips were hot, and he made weird little noises as he sucked at Zeke's mouth. He pulled at the shirt impatiently, he was really fucking horny tonight. Zeke grinned and pulled back. "You're really into this," he said.
Casey started undoing his jeans. "Been thinking about it all week," he said breathlessly. "Come on."
"What, here?" Zeke looked around and then saw the mistletoe hanging above him. He laughed. "Jesus, Casey, that's really fucking corny."
"I didn't put it there. That's my mom's thing. But I figure I might as well take advantage." He yanked at his own jeans, and Zeke grabbed his hands to stop him for a moment.
"Are you pissing on your parents here, Casey?" Zeke asked. He couldn't believe it. Sometimes this little dweeb amazed him. He groaned as Casey squeezed his dick through the denim. Zeke pulled him up hard and kissed him, and Casey laughed and then kicked him away.
"Yeah, I am, kinda," he giggled, and dropped to his knees.
-----------------
The air was icy cold outside the French windows, but at least no wind blew. Zeke shivered, but he pulled his head up and let the cold air run over his neck and down into his collar. He didn't need this, not now. He had to stay sharp. The game was wrapping up for tonight, and he couldn't get distracted by his own shit. Goddammit, he thought he'd gotten past this.
He breathed in the frigid air, imagined it was a wave of cold water washing the cobwebs away, washing the past away. Stood still and silent, until a warm voice next to him said, "Are you Luke?"
He opened his eyes. The cold night air didn't seem to affect her at all. She stood with a cigarette trailing blue smoke into the crackling air, her shoulders showing no trace of goosebumps. Her smile was arch and knowing. "Yeah," he answered. He shifted into gear with a shy smile and then ducked his head as her gaze pinned him. She laughed.
"You're his little brother, aren't you?" She took a drag off the cigarette and inhaled to the side, letting the smoke drift away from them.
He looked up then, just barely stopping himself from toeing the ground. Watch it, he thought. Don't pile it on too thick. "Half-brother, actually," he answered, pulling from the story they'd worked out - separated by their parents' divorce, recently reunited when "Luke" had left college a year short of his degree. In her eyes, he could see his remark click with something Jim had said, and she warmed just a bit towards him. So far, so good.
"I'm Jackie," she said, and extended her hand. He took it with a "nice to meet you", squeezing just enough to get his strength across without imposing it on her. She responded, holding onto his hand for a second before letting go and going back to her cigarette. "You look cold."
"I feel cold. I'm not used to the wind chill anymore." He shrugged, forcing a blush for her. He didn't know if she'd see it in the shadowy light, but it couldn't hurt.
She fished in the little bag of silver fishmail that hung from her elbow. "Want one?" she asked, holding out a cigarette. He thanked her, lit up, and they smoked together in companionable silence. She looked out at the lights in the garden, and Zeke glanced quickly into the house. Jim was standing about ten feet away, watching, and Zeke again raised his eyebrows. Jim's hand was at his side, and he spread three fingers and then walked on. Three minutes.
Zeke waited to see what Jackie would do.
------------
"You're an evil little bastard, Case," Zeke gasped. He could feel the sweat running down his back as Casey stroked him, biting his shoulder at the feel of Zeke's own hand doing the same.
"No, I'm not," Casey answered, almost growling. "I just don't give a shit right now. I've been crazy since you left, crazy fucking bored." He kissed Zeke hard. They'd ended up on their knees together, thighs locked, pushing their dicks up between them.
Casey's movements were fast and twitchy, he seemed desperate to get off. Zeke shut up, slid his hand to Casey's ass, and grabbed hard as he pulled him in.
---------------
"Hoo-boy!" Jim shouted, pulling his tie loose and tossing the bottle to Zeke. They were back in the hotel room, the car and driver dismissed. Jim sat on his bed, his dark blond hair falling into his eyes. He brushed it back and grinned. "She's on the hook, I'm gonna reel her in tomorrow. Now you can drink."
Zeke put the bottle on the nightstand and shook his head. "Not in the mood. Wouldn't say no to some weed, though."
"Outta luck there, I'm afraid," Jim said. He watched Zeke stretch out on the bed, then picked up the bottle and drank from it. He snorted a laugh. "I sure wish you'd make up your mind about him."
Zeke held himself very still. "About who?" he asked, and his blood froze at Jim's response: "Casey, of course." Thunder roared in his ears as he sat up.
"What do you know about Casey?" and his voice was desperate as well as angry. Jim heard it and smiled, and Zeke didn't punch him, no he didn't, he held back.
"I know enough to know it's getting in your way, Buckeye," and Zeke bristled. "You ain't been near as careful as you think you have. You didn't blow it tonight, but you could have, and I can't risk that. Deal with this, before I do it for you." Jim's voice was hard now.
Zeke was sorry he wasn't drunk, because he felt a sudden insane desire to do what only drink could excuse. He saw it sink in, and for a moment he felt that wide open sense of something he wanted just within reach, and then quick as a whip, Jim had him by the throat.
Jim spun him around and slammed him down on the bed, face into the mattress. He pushed a knee into Zeke's back as he shifted around, and then pulled his hand up behind his back, trapping him. Zeke bit his lip over a cry, and Jim pressed up behind him, pushed against his ass.
"This what you want, Buckeye?" he hissed, and shoved. "Is it? 'Cause if this is what you want, I'll give it to you, no problem." He grabbed hold of Zeke's hair and pulled his head up, lowered his lips to his ear. He whispered, "But you're gonna have to ask." He pushed Zeke's head back down and pushed off him, standing up. Walking over to the door, he pulled on his jacket and picked up his keys. "I'm gonna pick up some pizza. You should do some thinking before I get back."
Zeke turned on the bed and glared at him. "Fuck you, Sawyer."
Jim snorted. "You make me laugh, Zeke," and he walked out the door.
Chapter 47 of High Contrast
Cross-posted from my Dreamwidth journal.
This is for Mewsie and for aliensouldream. Your # 4 prompt shows up briefly here, otherwise it's just an excuse to jump on your bandwagon. ;)
Note: I'm not sure this chapter is actually finished. But here it is for now, a Yule gift for you all.
Mistletoe
Zeke flinched as a balled-up piece of paper, impatiently thrown, hit his head. "Heads up, Buckeye," Jim barked. No, not Jim, never Jim, but that's what Zeke called him nonetheless. A little payback for the fucking nickname. "You listening to me? This game'll put at least fifty grand in our pockets, so pay attention."
Pay attention. As if he hadn't been paying attention for months now. Zeke had always been a quick study when he was interested, and considering how easy some people were to fleece, he was usually interested. He'd always known most people were idiots, but never realized just how dumb they could be. Especially the women. Holy shit. All Jim had to do was turn on the charm, twinkle those green eyes at them and they practically fell over on their backs, tossing their purses at Zeke for good measure. Incredible.
Zeke was no slouch, either. He took up the little-brother, wayward-nephew, just-in-from-the-sticks-friend slot, and found it easy to take on whatever role was required. Maybe he should have been an actor. Nah, too much effort for not enough return. This was better. Scams paid quick and easy, and they were away before anyone knew what had happened. Zeke waited for the day when Jim would say it was his turn to take the lead, but it hadn't come yet. Patience, Grasshopper, he'd grin. You're hardly even honed yet. It'll take a while longer to sharpen you.
----------
Stepping out of the car held by the hired driver, Jim looked the part of a flashy playboy, his tux fitting like it had been made for him. Zeke wore a slightly more casual suit, black with dark purple lapels and matching shirt. Jim had chosen it at the rental house with an eye towards Zeke's coloring. "That's the one," he'd said, his eyes sharp and his grin appearing at the side as it did when he was satisfied. "Brings your eyes out. That's the key with the ladies," and he'd laughed.
"You look good, Buckeye. Just relax and have a good time. Mingle, but don't fucking drink. Gotta keep our heads clear. You hear me?"
"I hear you," Zeke answered. He felt good tonight. The game wouldn't involve him much; he was here just as a backup, to pull up the strings if things got wobbly. But Jim was in fine form, and Zeke didn't think there'd be a need. Just relax and have a good time. He meant to.
It'd been a year since he got out of that dump of a Tennessee jail. Jim had been as good as his word, giving Zeke a place to stay and steady work as his assistant. They split the takes, which ranged from 80/20 to 60/40, depending on the job. Most of the time it was the lower end, but Zeke had been working his way up a little at a time, and Jim hadn't stinted on rewarding him when it was due. For the first time, Zeke felt comfortable in his own skin, doing what came naturally and what he was good at - bullshitting, running rings around the distracted and the gullible, and watching Jim plow through the female population like he was carving furrows in a field.
The house was massive, what his mom used to call an "old stone pile", every window lit. The decorations were tasteful and subdued - none of that gaudy cloud of flashing lights and tacky life-size figures he'd learned to despise back in Herrington. No, this house had quiet garlands of pine and holly over the windows, and the only lighting effect was the network of white fairy lights wrapping the trunk and branches of the now naked maple in the front yard. The work it must have taken to wrap that entire ten-foot-tall tree spoke to the money here as much as the size of the house. Zeke frowned a little at the thought. Money.
A low cchh sound made him turn. Jim stood in front of the door, gesturing with his head. Damn, he really was stunning. The grin cut dimples into his cheeks and a lock of his shaggy hair dropped over his eyes. He pushed it back and turned towards the door. Zeke took a deep breath and let his own sideways smile twist his lips. It's showtime, folks.
-----------
She was pretty, pale and big-eyed. The living room was a little warm for Zeke's comfort; the crowd had eventually made the heat of the fire redundant. But she stood quite near the fireplace, sheathed in black and tapping her fingernail gentle against the side of her martini and smiling as she looked up at Jim, who was laughing at something she'd just said. Clearly things were going well. She turned her head as she put her drink on the table next to her, and Jim cut his eyes to Zeke, who raised his eyebrows. Jim gave a quick, light wink, and Zeke relaxed. Take a break, the wink meant. He had some time before the shutdown, when Jim would signal him to wander over so they could wind things up. He turned and, seeing the bookcase along one wall, walked over to skim the titles.
Zeke's work with Jim Ford was a blessing in more ways than one. Take tonight, for instance. He was dressed to the nines in lush surroundings, making small talk with the rich and perusing rare books. This evening and a couple of afternoons backup stood to net him twenty grand. Not bad. That he was working this job on Christmas Eve was a bonus. The focus on business meant he wasn't thinking about the date, he wasn't thinking about the past. He was here and now.
His fingers swept over the leather backs of book after book. Seven Levels of Ambiguity. Stewardship and Legacy in the 18th Century. The Pale Brown Thing. Zeke wondered whose collection this was. There didn't seem to be any pattern or connection to the way the books were shelved. What Lies in Silence. A Plain and Serious Bed. Sun and Barleycorn.
He walked over to one of the doors leading to the next room, and had almost reached it when he looked up and froze. Cold water seemed to pour down his back, and the blood rushed to his face. He immediately held his face still, and for a second he almost trembled with the effort to lower his eyes and keep moving through the door.
Mistletoe.
--------------------
Casey's lips were hot, and he made weird little noises as he sucked at Zeke's mouth. He pulled at the shirt impatiently, he was really fucking horny tonight. Zeke grinned and pulled back. "You're really into this," he said.
Casey started undoing his jeans. "Been thinking about it all week," he said breathlessly. "Come on."
"What, here?" Zeke looked around and then saw the mistletoe hanging above him. He laughed. "Jesus, Casey, that's really fucking corny."
"I didn't put it there. That's my mom's thing. But I figure I might as well take advantage." He yanked at his own jeans, and Zeke grabbed his hands to stop him for a moment.
"Are you pissing on your parents here, Casey?" Zeke asked. He couldn't believe it. Sometimes this little dweeb amazed him. He groaned as Casey squeezed his dick through the denim. Zeke pulled him up hard and kissed him, and Casey laughed and then kicked him away.
"Yeah, I am, kinda," he giggled, and dropped to his knees.
-----------------
The air was icy cold outside the French windows, but at least no wind blew. Zeke shivered, but he pulled his head up and let the cold air run over his neck and down into his collar. He didn't need this, not now. He had to stay sharp. The game was wrapping up for tonight, and he couldn't get distracted by his own shit. Goddammit, he thought he'd gotten past this.
He breathed in the frigid air, imagined it was a wave of cold water washing the cobwebs away, washing the past away. Stood still and silent, until a warm voice next to him said, "Are you Luke?"
He opened his eyes. The cold night air didn't seem to affect her at all. She stood with a cigarette trailing blue smoke into the crackling air, her shoulders showing no trace of goosebumps. Her smile was arch and knowing. "Yeah," he answered. He shifted into gear with a shy smile and then ducked his head as her gaze pinned him. She laughed.
"You're his little brother, aren't you?" She took a drag off the cigarette and inhaled to the side, letting the smoke drift away from them.
He looked up then, just barely stopping himself from toeing the ground. Watch it, he thought. Don't pile it on too thick. "Half-brother, actually," he answered, pulling from the story they'd worked out - separated by their parents' divorce, recently reunited when "Luke" had left college a year short of his degree. In her eyes, he could see his remark click with something Jim had said, and she warmed just a bit towards him. So far, so good.
"I'm Jackie," she said, and extended her hand. He took it with a "nice to meet you", squeezing just enough to get his strength across without imposing it on her. She responded, holding onto his hand for a second before letting go and going back to her cigarette. "You look cold."
"I feel cold. I'm not used to the wind chill anymore." He shrugged, forcing a blush for her. He didn't know if she'd see it in the shadowy light, but it couldn't hurt.
She fished in the little bag of silver fishmail that hung from her elbow. "Want one?" she asked, holding out a cigarette. He thanked her, lit up, and they smoked together in companionable silence. She looked out at the lights in the garden, and Zeke glanced quickly into the house. Jim was standing about ten feet away, watching, and Zeke again raised his eyebrows. Jim's hand was at his side, and he spread three fingers and then walked on. Three minutes.
Zeke waited to see what Jackie would do.
------------
"You're an evil little bastard, Case," Zeke gasped. He could feel the sweat running down his back as Casey stroked him, biting his shoulder at the feel of Zeke's own hand doing the same.
"No, I'm not," Casey answered, almost growling. "I just don't give a shit right now. I've been crazy since you left, crazy fucking bored." He kissed Zeke hard. They'd ended up on their knees together, thighs locked, pushing their dicks up between them.
Casey's movements were fast and twitchy, he seemed desperate to get off. Zeke shut up, slid his hand to Casey's ass, and grabbed hard as he pulled him in.
---------------
"Hoo-boy!" Jim shouted, pulling his tie loose and tossing the bottle to Zeke. They were back in the hotel room, the car and driver dismissed. Jim sat on his bed, his dark blond hair falling into his eyes. He brushed it back and grinned. "She's on the hook, I'm gonna reel her in tomorrow. Now you can drink."
Zeke put the bottle on the nightstand and shook his head. "Not in the mood. Wouldn't say no to some weed, though."
"Outta luck there, I'm afraid," Jim said. He watched Zeke stretch out on the bed, then picked up the bottle and drank from it. He snorted a laugh. "I sure wish you'd make up your mind about him."
Zeke held himself very still. "About who?" he asked, and his blood froze at Jim's response: "Casey, of course." Thunder roared in his ears as he sat up.
"What do you know about Casey?" and his voice was desperate as well as angry. Jim heard it and smiled, and Zeke didn't punch him, no he didn't, he held back.
"I know enough to know it's getting in your way, Buckeye," and Zeke bristled. "You ain't been near as careful as you think you have. You didn't blow it tonight, but you could have, and I can't risk that. Deal with this, before I do it for you." Jim's voice was hard now.
Zeke was sorry he wasn't drunk, because he felt a sudden insane desire to do what only drink could excuse. He saw it sink in, and for a moment he felt that wide open sense of something he wanted just within reach, and then quick as a whip, Jim had him by the throat.
Jim spun him around and slammed him down on the bed, face into the mattress. He pushed a knee into Zeke's back as he shifted around, and then pulled his hand up behind his back, trapping him. Zeke bit his lip over a cry, and Jim pressed up behind him, pushed against his ass.
"This what you want, Buckeye?" he hissed, and shoved. "Is it? 'Cause if this is what you want, I'll give it to you, no problem." He grabbed hold of Zeke's hair and pulled his head up, lowered his lips to his ear. He whispered, "But you're gonna have to ask." He pushed Zeke's head back down and pushed off him, standing up. Walking over to the door, he pulled on his jacket and picked up his keys. "I'm gonna pick up some pizza. You should do some thinking before I get back."
Zeke turned on the bed and glared at him. "Fuck you, Sawyer."
Jim snorted. "You make me laugh, Zeke," and he walked out the door.
Chapter 47 of High Contrast
Cross-posted from my Dreamwidth journal.