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claudia603Title: Morning Cuckold
Rating: Adult
Fandom/Pairing: Faculty, Casey/Zeke
Request: Daddy issues, Mr. Conner's got them when it comes to his son.
Summary: Mr. Conner can't accept where and with whom Casey goes in the early mornings.
Warnings: none
Word count: 3450
(posting this before my nieces wake up and make it impossible! ;D)
A/N: Hope you enjoy, Honey!!! Merry Christmas to you!
“Where are you going?” growled Mr. Conner. Casey, who had just about been ready to snag his jacket off the coat hook, flinched.
Fuck. Dad never woke before six-thirty. Casey had thought he was being so quiet. He should have treated this like a night sneak-out and crawled out his bedroom window.
“School.”
Heat crept up his throat and flushed his cheeks.
Casey was still turned away from his dad, but he could feel his dad’s eyes boring into him. Sweat trickled down his back.
“You expect me to believe that?” Mr. Conner finally said. “It’s six in the morning. I’m making bacon and eggs. Come sit down and have some breakfast.”
Casey tried to hide his dismay. Zeke was waiting for him. He could hear the quiet rumble of his GTO Pontiac. Pretty soon he would start honking.
“I really have to go,” Casey said. “I told—”
Mr. Conner slammed his fist into the wall. “School doesn’t start until eight-fifteen.”
“Study hall,” Casey said, glancing outside. He could sense Zeke’s growing impatience.
Then, sure enough, came a loud honking, as if Zeke was leaning his whole weight on the horn.
“Is that him?” Mr. Conner asked, his thick brows furrowing. His jaw was set. “I thought I told you not to see that boy again. He’s a druggie, a loser, and I don’t want him dragging you down.”
“You don’t know anything about him,” Casey said.
I will stand my ground, I will. Fuck him. I’m sick of being dicked around by someone who doesn’t know what it was like, what we went through.
He still hadn’t forgiven his father for not believing him during the invasion, for implying that he was sick in the head and for forcing him go back to school, sending him to be slaughtered, or rather to have his mind ass-raped by aliens.
“Casey, honey? What’s going on? Where are you going?” Mrs. Conner’s voice was sleepy. She trudged down the stairs, wearing a pink robe over her thick body. She yawned. “What time is it?”
“See, he’s woke your mom up now, too,” Mr. Conner said. “Soon he’ll wake the whole God damn neighborhood with his ass racket. You’re not going with him.”
“Honey, language,” Mrs. Conner said to her husband. “What’s going on, Casey?”
“Bye, I’m going,” Casey said.
Mr. Conner turned bright red. “You walk out the door and you will be grounded the rest of the school year.”
Casey left anyway, letting the screen door slam behind him. His gut twisted with a sick, guilty feeling. Up until the alien invasion, he had belonged fully to his dad. It was his dad who had taught him the world was big and scary and that he would protect him (although when it came right down to it, he hadn’t). It was his dad who had given him a box of condoms and had given him the lecture about not knocking up some poor girl before he even got a chance to go to college. He had used only one of the condoms on a girl, on Delilah. After the invasion, they had their little fling. Delilah licked up every bit of the media attention surrounding the invasion, and what better way to get it than to hang out with Casey, the hero of the week. They had sex once, and it was then that Casey knew for sure that he was not into girls, not even bi, but rather full-on gay. He had needed to fantasize about Zeke to get his cock hard enough to enter Delilah. Then, like a dumbass, he had muttered Zeke’s name in the heat of it all, and that had been the end of Delilah.
In a hell-hath-no-fury moment, Delilah had told Zeke about it, and Casey had hid for almost a full week. He had spent any moment at school that he was not in class hiding in a bathroom stall, terrified of running into Zeke, terrified that the whole school knew that he had the hots for Zeke, and that Zeke would not only kick his ass, but laugh at him, tear his heart out of his chest and stomp on it.
Then it would somehow get back to his parents, to his dad.
One day while darting into the bathroom to hide, he had run right into Zeke, literally, and had bounced off him, and by the time he recovered his balance, Zeke had blocked his way.
“It’s not true!” Casey said. “She’s a liar.”
“I know,” Zeke said with a smirk. “Meet me at my car after school?”
“Fuck you,” Casey said.
But he had met Zeke at his car. And Zeke had given him the best (and only) blow job of his life.
Casey slid into the front passenger seat. “You don’t have to honk like that. It pisses my dad off.”
He had never blatantly disobeyed his dad. Sure, he had snuck out on occasion and hid gay porn under his mattress, but either his dad had not known about those things or had chosen to look the other way. He was not so worried about being grounded. He knew how easy it was to fool his parents, make it seem like he was in his room while he slipped out of his window and shimmied off the porch roof.
“You’re a fucking pansy about your dad. You need to tell him about us.”
“I think he knows. He gets weird when your name comes up.”
Zeke pressed his foot down on the accelerator and the tires screeched as he pulled down the street. “Want some scat?” Zeke handed one of his pens to Casey.
“No,” Casey looked away in revulsion. Zeke’s pens only reminded him of aliens and blank faces. “I’m amped enough.”
Zeke shrugged and withdrew the pen. “Are you sure today’s the day?”
Casey nodded.
“You nervous?”
“No.”
“You’re fucking lying.”
“Are you? Nervous?”
“I’ve fucked boys before.” Zeke shrugged. “This will be—”
“One of many?” Casey demanded, suddenly pissed off. His cheeks were bright red now, but his cock betrayed him by stirring. He squirmed in his seat. “Maybe you should just take me home.”
Zeke laughed. “I’m no virgin, but then, from what I hear from Delilah, neither are you.”
“You’re going to bring that up again,” Casey said through his teeth. “Irrelevant anyway. I’ve never been with, been with a, you know.”
“Guy?”
Casey offered a quick nod.
Zeke did not laugh, as Casey expected. His eyes seemed to grow darker and an almost sober mood fell on him.
“Where we going?” Casey asked finally, just to break the silence.
“I’m taking us behind the school,” Zeke said. “Nobody gets to school before seven. Under the bleachers. By the football field.”
He slammed the brakes and yanked his car around in a squealing u-turn and sped toward the school. Casey’s stomach dropped, and his cock stiffened. Now there was no hiding his hard-on. Nobody was in the school parking lot, and a golden, early morning mist danced over the football field. Zeke brought his car to a screeching halt in the nearest parking spot to the football field.
“No early football practice today, right?” Casey asked. He shivered, both from the chill of early morning and anticipation. He had not worn his boxers.
“It’s not football season. And “they” includes me, or didn’t you remember I’m on the team?”
“I’ve kind of blocked that out,” Casey said with a wry grin.
“Naw,” Zeke said, nodding. “Head journalism nerd should always date the running back. Isn’t that the natural order?”
“From your mouth to Delilah’s ears,” Casey said, and Zeke laughed long and hard, almost as if he were tweaking, only Casey had not seen him take any of the scat. But at least the mood had lightened. They crawled under the bleachers. Casey’s arms broke out in goose bumps. They were as mostly out of sight as they could be unless some pervy homeless person stuck around for the show.
“So, now what?” Casey asked, surprised that his lips trembled.
“I’m going to pop your cherry. For real. This isn’t going to be just a couple of blow jobs, not this morning.”
“That was the plan,” Casey said.
He wiped his hands on his jeans. His stomach fluttered, his cock hardened even more. He had the biggest hard-on he’d ever had without being touched.
“You scared, Case? We don’t have to do this, you know, not if you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” Casey whispered.
“And when we’re through,” Zeke said. “You can take your cherry popped self back to Daddy and tell him who owns you. Who owns you?” Zeke growled, crawling toward Casey to suck on Casey’s neck.
“You,” Casey gasped. “All the way.”
Zeke fumbled at the button and zipper of Casey’s jeans. Casey flinched. If Zeke touched his crotch, he was likely to spill his seed all over his jeans.
“Lie down,” Zeke commanded, and Casey obeyed. The grass was prickly beneath his back, and a pebble dug into his left arm. Zeke pushed him so that he lay on his right side.
“Relax,” Zeke added.
Casey felt his jeans being pulled down over his thighs. He wanted to kick them off, to free his legs, but he did not want Zeke to stop stroking his ass and outer leg. Zeke had fully removed his own jeans. He wrapped his arms around Casey, pulling him to him. His breath came out in jagged hitches.
“I’m going to get you ready,” he said.
“Lube?” Casey asked, oh so casually, as if he had used it millions of times before, although he only knew about it through the short stories in his gay porn magazines.
“Brought it,” Zeke breathed in Casey’s ear. “Passion fruit flavor.” He waved his oily, fingers in front of Casey, and Casey breathed in the fruity scent. He giggled, causing Zeke to give him a wicked grin. “Good stuff.”
Zeke slid his right hand in between Casey’s legs, rubbing up and down his inner thighs with his lubed fingers.
Casey shuddered and gasped and then he came, spilling himself into the grass. He shivered with pleasure, spent already, but Zeke did not stop. He continued to explore Casey’s hips, his inner thighs, barely touching his now flaccid cock. Casey continued to breathe hard, moaning with gratification. He was already getting aroused again.
Zeke flipped Casey onto his stomach in a sudden, nearly violent motion, and Casey cried out, “Shit, what--?”
“Shh, it’s time,” Zeke whispered. “Now lift your ass up a bit, like you’re a cat, stretching. Lean your weight on your arms. Yes, that’s right.”
Casey obeyed. He leaned on his arms, and lifted his backside. Zeke rubbed more lube on his hands. Casey felt a finger push inside of him, exploring. Zeke stroked Casey’s ass cheeks with his slippery hands, sometimes pausing to explore inside Casey with the one finger, opening him. There was some pain, but it ended, and now Casey pushed against Zeke’s finger, wanting more, wanting deeper. Zeke pushed his finger in and out, relaxing Casey, forcing more and more need from him. Then came two fingers, grazing the entrance, teasing just a bit, then dipping in and widening him further.
“God-” Casey gasped, thrusting backwards into Zeke’s hands. “Holy shit, holy God.”
“You’re tight, you need to relax.”
And Casey did, carried away on a flood of pleasure, needing, wanting, aching for more, more, more-more-more.
Then Zeke was inside him, fully inside him, filling him. He cried out, clenching grass and dirt in his hands, although he was not sure whether in pain or pleasure or a wicked combination of the two.
“You’re tight,” Zeke gasped. “Holy fuck, you’re tight.”
“Good. Harder. Take me harder.”
Zeke was not gentle. Caught up in his own needs, his thrusts became erratic and desperate. Zeke pounded into him, clutching Casey’s arms with bruising force. “I own you. You’re mine,” he bit Casey’s ear. “You’re all mine now.”
“Yours,” Casey whimpered. “Yours always. Yours alone.”
They came one right after the other, shuddering, sinking to the ground, Zeke spilling into Casey, Casey ejaculating into the grass again. Zeke’s full weight covered Casey.
They turned over, lying side by side on the grass. Casey pulled his pants up over his aching ass, buttoning without zipping. Zeke drew him into his arms, and Casey rested his head on Zeke’s muscular shoulder. The sun was rising, the clouds glimmering ethereal pink. The breeze was chilly, but Casey was not cold, especially after the workout Zeke had just given him, and also because he was now fully enfolded into Zeke’s arms.
Owned. His.
Casey only meant to rest his eyes, but instead he fell into a dream about being at a carnival with Zeke. He and Zeke were walking around, each holding cotton candy that glowed pink (like morning angel clouds), and around them they heard the shrieks of rollercoaster riders, the clanging, dinging of games, the carny catcalls.
“What a rush, man, what a rush it’ll be,” Zeke was saying.
“I don’t want to get that rollercoaster, there’s something wrong with it,” Casey said.
“Stop being a fucking pansy,” Zeke said. “We’re getting on.”
Then they were on it, an old fashioned rickety wooden one, and the rollercoaster trains rumbled up the shaky crest, slowly, and Casey knew, he just knew that the rollercoaster was going to jump the tracks and kill all the laughing, merry people on it, including them. He didn’t want to die. He loved Zeke. He wanted to spend his life with him. Down in the carnival crowd watching the train crest its first hill was his dad, staring up at him, flushed with anger, his jaw set.
“Zeke, we have to get off, we can jump—”
“Casey, wake up,” Zeke whispered urgently in his ear from far away.
Casey’s eyes snapped open. He was lying under the bleachers in Zeke’s arms. First, he was relieved that the horrid nightmare of his impending death was not real. But then he realized why Zeke had been so urgent. His dad had just pulled into the parking lot right next to Zeke’s car.
“Let’s go to him,” Zeke said.
“No, no,” Casey said in a near panic. “He can’t know. He can’t know I’m—”
“Dude,” Zeke said. “He knows you’re gay. Everyone knows you’re gay. Shit, I’ve known since third grade.”
“No, no, he doesn’t,” Casey said, turning bright red. “He’s been trying to set me up with the daughter of one of his coworkers forever. I keep putting him off, giving excuses—mentioning Delilah, even though as you know, that’s over. He gave me condoms, for fuck’s sake!”
“He gave you condoms,” Zeke said. “Because he knows about your gayness and wants you to stay safe.”
“Shit, what am I going to say to him?” Casey was checking his pants, making sure his pants were up, buttoned.
Mr. Conner had parked his car and was getting out, slamming the door and striding toward them, jiggling his keys, at an enraged pace.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled. “What the fuck are you doing with my son?” he addressed Zeke.
Zeke put his arm possessively around Casey’s shoulders. Casey cringed, feeling that familiar pit of guilt in his stomach, but did not throw Zeke’s arm off.
“Mr. Conner,” Zeke said.
“You shut the fuck up,” Mr. Conner said. He glanced at Casey’s crotch and turned beet red. Casey realized that his zipper was still down, that he had buttoned his shirt up wrong, that his hair was mussed. It smelled like sex. And worst of all, the lube and the ripped open condom package lay right in plain view, next to Zeke. There was absolutely no doubt what had just happened under the bleachers.
“Casey, in the car. Now.” Mr. Conner’s voice shook.
Casey flinched and tensed as if to get up, but Zeke’s arm around his shoulders tightened, forcing him to stay seated.
“I think he’d rather stay here with me,” Zeke said.
“Casey Conner, if you do not get up right now and get in the car, don’t bother to come home.”
Casey’s stomach sank. He did not think his dad would really carry through on that threat, but maybe this had been the one unforgivable act, the one thing that pushed his dad over the edge.
“Dad,” Casey said, swallowing, forcing himself to look right into his dad’s eyes. “You’ve known about me, that I’m gay. You’ve known it for a long time.”
“No,” Mr. Conner said, wiping his brow. “No, no you’re not gay. You’re just experimenting, just being influenced by some very bad friends. Listen,” and his voice softened. “I’m sorry I was harsh. I won’t say a word to your mom. Just come home with me and I’ll make your favorite – pancakes and bacon. I’ll call Mr. Robeson. He’s got that nice daughter, Melinda or Melissa, pretty blonde girl. We’ll set up a dinner date for you two. Get to know her. She’s a pretty girl. When you see her, you will forget all about this,” and he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the condom wrapper, “nonsense.”
“Mr. Conner,” Zeke said. “Casey likes cock. In particular, mine.”
Casey flinched. Zeke could be over the top, unnecessarily rude sometimes. Authority figures brought that out in him. He liked to push things. But in this case, maybe it was necessary. Casey saw himself obeying his dad, going back with him to the house, his tail between his legs, eating pancakes and bacon and later, sitting at a fancy restaurant that his dad would no doubt have paid for across from a pretty blonde girl, who smiled at him with simpering hope while inside he shriveled up and died.
Casey took a large, shuddering breath. “Dad, I can’t,” he said. “I won’t. This is who I am. This is who I love.”
“Then don’t bother coming home,” Mr. Conner said. He did not look angry now, rather devastated, defeated. He clenched his fists, like he was not sure what to do with them.
“Dad—” Casey started.
“Let him go,” Zeke whispered. “He’ll come around. Let him go.”
Casey sagged. “I feel like shit, like I’ve let him down. Once again.”
“By being yourself?” Zeke asked.
“Not just the gay thing. I’ve always been one big let down for him. He doesn’t know it, but he’d rather have you as a son.”
“I’m just as gay as you are,” Zeke laughed. “And I’ll probably be repeating senior year for the third time next year.”
“But you play football, you’re into cars, manly stuff.”
“He loves you, Casey, and he’ll come around, and if he doesn’t? Then fuck him.”
Casey swallowed. It was easy for Zeke to hate his parents. They had given him good reason to. But Casey’s childhood had been decent. His parents had been dismayed by the slight fairy-like boy who didn’t like sports, who preferred to stare through the lens of a camera rather than a football helmet. But they had always treated him well, never abused or neglected him. He had never been neglected.
Zeke, on the other hand, was used to people loving and leaving him.
“You can come live with me.”
“Your parents will eventually come home.”
“What, once a year for like a week? I’m sure we could work around that. They can kiss my ass if they don’t like it.”
“I can’t live with you.”
Zeke shrugged. “Then don’t.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure.” Zeke looked bored, but his eyes had darkened. “Let’s get out of here. We can hang out McDonald’s, have an egg McMuffin or something until school starts.”
“You really want me to?” Casey asked. He hated it when Zeke shut down and got that I-don’t-give-a-fuck-about-anything look on his face. The very threat of rejection made his whole soul go slack, shut-down.
“I don’t give a fuck what you eat.”
“Don’t be a dick. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Sure,” Zeke said, the corners of his mouth twitching just a tad. “If you want.”
“Fuck you,” Casey said, breathless and smiling now. “You’re dying for me to come live with you.”
“Don’t you wish,” Zeke said, pulling away.
“I’ll need my own towel,” Casey said. “And toothbrush.”
Zeke’s eyes brightened. “There’s a Walmart on the way home. Fuck school. We’re ditching today.”
“Sounds good,” Casey said. He smiled, feeling a freedom that he had never before felt. His life shone before him now, glimmering with hope and love, no longer hidden in shadows. “And for the record, I don’t want an egg McMuffin, I want the hotcakes. With bacon.”
END
Rating: Adult
Fandom/Pairing: Faculty, Casey/Zeke
Request: Daddy issues, Mr. Conner's got them when it comes to his son.
Summary: Mr. Conner can't accept where and with whom Casey goes in the early mornings.
Warnings: none
Word count: 3450
(posting this before my nieces wake up and make it impossible! ;D)
A/N: Hope you enjoy, Honey!!! Merry Christmas to you!
“Where are you going?” growled Mr. Conner. Casey, who had just about been ready to snag his jacket off the coat hook, flinched.
Fuck. Dad never woke before six-thirty. Casey had thought he was being so quiet. He should have treated this like a night sneak-out and crawled out his bedroom window.
“School.”
Heat crept up his throat and flushed his cheeks.
Casey was still turned away from his dad, but he could feel his dad’s eyes boring into him. Sweat trickled down his back.
“You expect me to believe that?” Mr. Conner finally said. “It’s six in the morning. I’m making bacon and eggs. Come sit down and have some breakfast.”
Casey tried to hide his dismay. Zeke was waiting for him. He could hear the quiet rumble of his GTO Pontiac. Pretty soon he would start honking.
“I really have to go,” Casey said. “I told—”
Mr. Conner slammed his fist into the wall. “School doesn’t start until eight-fifteen.”
“Study hall,” Casey said, glancing outside. He could sense Zeke’s growing impatience.
Then, sure enough, came a loud honking, as if Zeke was leaning his whole weight on the horn.
“Is that him?” Mr. Conner asked, his thick brows furrowing. His jaw was set. “I thought I told you not to see that boy again. He’s a druggie, a loser, and I don’t want him dragging you down.”
“You don’t know anything about him,” Casey said.
I will stand my ground, I will. Fuck him. I’m sick of being dicked around by someone who doesn’t know what it was like, what we went through.
He still hadn’t forgiven his father for not believing him during the invasion, for implying that he was sick in the head and for forcing him go back to school, sending him to be slaughtered, or rather to have his mind ass-raped by aliens.
“Casey, honey? What’s going on? Where are you going?” Mrs. Conner’s voice was sleepy. She trudged down the stairs, wearing a pink robe over her thick body. She yawned. “What time is it?”
“See, he’s woke your mom up now, too,” Mr. Conner said. “Soon he’ll wake the whole God damn neighborhood with his ass racket. You’re not going with him.”
“Honey, language,” Mrs. Conner said to her husband. “What’s going on, Casey?”
“Bye, I’m going,” Casey said.
Mr. Conner turned bright red. “You walk out the door and you will be grounded the rest of the school year.”
Casey left anyway, letting the screen door slam behind him. His gut twisted with a sick, guilty feeling. Up until the alien invasion, he had belonged fully to his dad. It was his dad who had taught him the world was big and scary and that he would protect him (although when it came right down to it, he hadn’t). It was his dad who had given him a box of condoms and had given him the lecture about not knocking up some poor girl before he even got a chance to go to college. He had used only one of the condoms on a girl, on Delilah. After the invasion, they had their little fling. Delilah licked up every bit of the media attention surrounding the invasion, and what better way to get it than to hang out with Casey, the hero of the week. They had sex once, and it was then that Casey knew for sure that he was not into girls, not even bi, but rather full-on gay. He had needed to fantasize about Zeke to get his cock hard enough to enter Delilah. Then, like a dumbass, he had muttered Zeke’s name in the heat of it all, and that had been the end of Delilah.
In a hell-hath-no-fury moment, Delilah had told Zeke about it, and Casey had hid for almost a full week. He had spent any moment at school that he was not in class hiding in a bathroom stall, terrified of running into Zeke, terrified that the whole school knew that he had the hots for Zeke, and that Zeke would not only kick his ass, but laugh at him, tear his heart out of his chest and stomp on it.
Then it would somehow get back to his parents, to his dad.
One day while darting into the bathroom to hide, he had run right into Zeke, literally, and had bounced off him, and by the time he recovered his balance, Zeke had blocked his way.
“It’s not true!” Casey said. “She’s a liar.”
“I know,” Zeke said with a smirk. “Meet me at my car after school?”
“Fuck you,” Casey said.
But he had met Zeke at his car. And Zeke had given him the best (and only) blow job of his life.
Casey slid into the front passenger seat. “You don’t have to honk like that. It pisses my dad off.”
He had never blatantly disobeyed his dad. Sure, he had snuck out on occasion and hid gay porn under his mattress, but either his dad had not known about those things or had chosen to look the other way. He was not so worried about being grounded. He knew how easy it was to fool his parents, make it seem like he was in his room while he slipped out of his window and shimmied off the porch roof.
“You’re a fucking pansy about your dad. You need to tell him about us.”
“I think he knows. He gets weird when your name comes up.”
Zeke pressed his foot down on the accelerator and the tires screeched as he pulled down the street. “Want some scat?” Zeke handed one of his pens to Casey.
“No,” Casey looked away in revulsion. Zeke’s pens only reminded him of aliens and blank faces. “I’m amped enough.”
Zeke shrugged and withdrew the pen. “Are you sure today’s the day?”
Casey nodded.
“You nervous?”
“No.”
“You’re fucking lying.”
“Are you? Nervous?”
“I’ve fucked boys before.” Zeke shrugged. “This will be—”
“One of many?” Casey demanded, suddenly pissed off. His cheeks were bright red now, but his cock betrayed him by stirring. He squirmed in his seat. “Maybe you should just take me home.”
Zeke laughed. “I’m no virgin, but then, from what I hear from Delilah, neither are you.”
“You’re going to bring that up again,” Casey said through his teeth. “Irrelevant anyway. I’ve never been with, been with a, you know.”
“Guy?”
Casey offered a quick nod.
Zeke did not laugh, as Casey expected. His eyes seemed to grow darker and an almost sober mood fell on him.
“Where we going?” Casey asked finally, just to break the silence.
“I’m taking us behind the school,” Zeke said. “Nobody gets to school before seven. Under the bleachers. By the football field.”
He slammed the brakes and yanked his car around in a squealing u-turn and sped toward the school. Casey’s stomach dropped, and his cock stiffened. Now there was no hiding his hard-on. Nobody was in the school parking lot, and a golden, early morning mist danced over the football field. Zeke brought his car to a screeching halt in the nearest parking spot to the football field.
“No early football practice today, right?” Casey asked. He shivered, both from the chill of early morning and anticipation. He had not worn his boxers.
“It’s not football season. And “they” includes me, or didn’t you remember I’m on the team?”
“I’ve kind of blocked that out,” Casey said with a wry grin.
“Naw,” Zeke said, nodding. “Head journalism nerd should always date the running back. Isn’t that the natural order?”
“From your mouth to Delilah’s ears,” Casey said, and Zeke laughed long and hard, almost as if he were tweaking, only Casey had not seen him take any of the scat. But at least the mood had lightened. They crawled under the bleachers. Casey’s arms broke out in goose bumps. They were as mostly out of sight as they could be unless some pervy homeless person stuck around for the show.
“So, now what?” Casey asked, surprised that his lips trembled.
“I’m going to pop your cherry. For real. This isn’t going to be just a couple of blow jobs, not this morning.”
“That was the plan,” Casey said.
He wiped his hands on his jeans. His stomach fluttered, his cock hardened even more. He had the biggest hard-on he’d ever had without being touched.
“You scared, Case? We don’t have to do this, you know, not if you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” Casey whispered.
“And when we’re through,” Zeke said. “You can take your cherry popped self back to Daddy and tell him who owns you. Who owns you?” Zeke growled, crawling toward Casey to suck on Casey’s neck.
“You,” Casey gasped. “All the way.”
Zeke fumbled at the button and zipper of Casey’s jeans. Casey flinched. If Zeke touched his crotch, he was likely to spill his seed all over his jeans.
“Lie down,” Zeke commanded, and Casey obeyed. The grass was prickly beneath his back, and a pebble dug into his left arm. Zeke pushed him so that he lay on his right side.
“Relax,” Zeke added.
Casey felt his jeans being pulled down over his thighs. He wanted to kick them off, to free his legs, but he did not want Zeke to stop stroking his ass and outer leg. Zeke had fully removed his own jeans. He wrapped his arms around Casey, pulling him to him. His breath came out in jagged hitches.
“I’m going to get you ready,” he said.
“Lube?” Casey asked, oh so casually, as if he had used it millions of times before, although he only knew about it through the short stories in his gay porn magazines.
“Brought it,” Zeke breathed in Casey’s ear. “Passion fruit flavor.” He waved his oily, fingers in front of Casey, and Casey breathed in the fruity scent. He giggled, causing Zeke to give him a wicked grin. “Good stuff.”
Zeke slid his right hand in between Casey’s legs, rubbing up and down his inner thighs with his lubed fingers.
Casey shuddered and gasped and then he came, spilling himself into the grass. He shivered with pleasure, spent already, but Zeke did not stop. He continued to explore Casey’s hips, his inner thighs, barely touching his now flaccid cock. Casey continued to breathe hard, moaning with gratification. He was already getting aroused again.
Zeke flipped Casey onto his stomach in a sudden, nearly violent motion, and Casey cried out, “Shit, what--?”
“Shh, it’s time,” Zeke whispered. “Now lift your ass up a bit, like you’re a cat, stretching. Lean your weight on your arms. Yes, that’s right.”
Casey obeyed. He leaned on his arms, and lifted his backside. Zeke rubbed more lube on his hands. Casey felt a finger push inside of him, exploring. Zeke stroked Casey’s ass cheeks with his slippery hands, sometimes pausing to explore inside Casey with the one finger, opening him. There was some pain, but it ended, and now Casey pushed against Zeke’s finger, wanting more, wanting deeper. Zeke pushed his finger in and out, relaxing Casey, forcing more and more need from him. Then came two fingers, grazing the entrance, teasing just a bit, then dipping in and widening him further.
“God-” Casey gasped, thrusting backwards into Zeke’s hands. “Holy shit, holy God.”
“You’re tight, you need to relax.”
And Casey did, carried away on a flood of pleasure, needing, wanting, aching for more, more, more-more-more.
Then Zeke was inside him, fully inside him, filling him. He cried out, clenching grass and dirt in his hands, although he was not sure whether in pain or pleasure or a wicked combination of the two.
“You’re tight,” Zeke gasped. “Holy fuck, you’re tight.”
“Good. Harder. Take me harder.”
Zeke was not gentle. Caught up in his own needs, his thrusts became erratic and desperate. Zeke pounded into him, clutching Casey’s arms with bruising force. “I own you. You’re mine,” he bit Casey’s ear. “You’re all mine now.”
“Yours,” Casey whimpered. “Yours always. Yours alone.”
They came one right after the other, shuddering, sinking to the ground, Zeke spilling into Casey, Casey ejaculating into the grass again. Zeke’s full weight covered Casey.
They turned over, lying side by side on the grass. Casey pulled his pants up over his aching ass, buttoning without zipping. Zeke drew him into his arms, and Casey rested his head on Zeke’s muscular shoulder. The sun was rising, the clouds glimmering ethereal pink. The breeze was chilly, but Casey was not cold, especially after the workout Zeke had just given him, and also because he was now fully enfolded into Zeke’s arms.
Owned. His.
Casey only meant to rest his eyes, but instead he fell into a dream about being at a carnival with Zeke. He and Zeke were walking around, each holding cotton candy that glowed pink (like morning angel clouds), and around them they heard the shrieks of rollercoaster riders, the clanging, dinging of games, the carny catcalls.
“What a rush, man, what a rush it’ll be,” Zeke was saying.
“I don’t want to get that rollercoaster, there’s something wrong with it,” Casey said.
“Stop being a fucking pansy,” Zeke said. “We’re getting on.”
Then they were on it, an old fashioned rickety wooden one, and the rollercoaster trains rumbled up the shaky crest, slowly, and Casey knew, he just knew that the rollercoaster was going to jump the tracks and kill all the laughing, merry people on it, including them. He didn’t want to die. He loved Zeke. He wanted to spend his life with him. Down in the carnival crowd watching the train crest its first hill was his dad, staring up at him, flushed with anger, his jaw set.
“Zeke, we have to get off, we can jump—”
“Casey, wake up,” Zeke whispered urgently in his ear from far away.
Casey’s eyes snapped open. He was lying under the bleachers in Zeke’s arms. First, he was relieved that the horrid nightmare of his impending death was not real. But then he realized why Zeke had been so urgent. His dad had just pulled into the parking lot right next to Zeke’s car.
“Let’s go to him,” Zeke said.
“No, no,” Casey said in a near panic. “He can’t know. He can’t know I’m—”
“Dude,” Zeke said. “He knows you’re gay. Everyone knows you’re gay. Shit, I’ve known since third grade.”
“No, no, he doesn’t,” Casey said, turning bright red. “He’s been trying to set me up with the daughter of one of his coworkers forever. I keep putting him off, giving excuses—mentioning Delilah, even though as you know, that’s over. He gave me condoms, for fuck’s sake!”
“He gave you condoms,” Zeke said. “Because he knows about your gayness and wants you to stay safe.”
“Shit, what am I going to say to him?” Casey was checking his pants, making sure his pants were up, buttoned.
Mr. Conner had parked his car and was getting out, slamming the door and striding toward them, jiggling his keys, at an enraged pace.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled. “What the fuck are you doing with my son?” he addressed Zeke.
Zeke put his arm possessively around Casey’s shoulders. Casey cringed, feeling that familiar pit of guilt in his stomach, but did not throw Zeke’s arm off.
“Mr. Conner,” Zeke said.
“You shut the fuck up,” Mr. Conner said. He glanced at Casey’s crotch and turned beet red. Casey realized that his zipper was still down, that he had buttoned his shirt up wrong, that his hair was mussed. It smelled like sex. And worst of all, the lube and the ripped open condom package lay right in plain view, next to Zeke. There was absolutely no doubt what had just happened under the bleachers.
“Casey, in the car. Now.” Mr. Conner’s voice shook.
Casey flinched and tensed as if to get up, but Zeke’s arm around his shoulders tightened, forcing him to stay seated.
“I think he’d rather stay here with me,” Zeke said.
“Casey Conner, if you do not get up right now and get in the car, don’t bother to come home.”
Casey’s stomach sank. He did not think his dad would really carry through on that threat, but maybe this had been the one unforgivable act, the one thing that pushed his dad over the edge.
“Dad,” Casey said, swallowing, forcing himself to look right into his dad’s eyes. “You’ve known about me, that I’m gay. You’ve known it for a long time.”
“No,” Mr. Conner said, wiping his brow. “No, no you’re not gay. You’re just experimenting, just being influenced by some very bad friends. Listen,” and his voice softened. “I’m sorry I was harsh. I won’t say a word to your mom. Just come home with me and I’ll make your favorite – pancakes and bacon. I’ll call Mr. Robeson. He’s got that nice daughter, Melinda or Melissa, pretty blonde girl. We’ll set up a dinner date for you two. Get to know her. She’s a pretty girl. When you see her, you will forget all about this,” and he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the condom wrapper, “nonsense.”
“Mr. Conner,” Zeke said. “Casey likes cock. In particular, mine.”
Casey flinched. Zeke could be over the top, unnecessarily rude sometimes. Authority figures brought that out in him. He liked to push things. But in this case, maybe it was necessary. Casey saw himself obeying his dad, going back with him to the house, his tail between his legs, eating pancakes and bacon and later, sitting at a fancy restaurant that his dad would no doubt have paid for across from a pretty blonde girl, who smiled at him with simpering hope while inside he shriveled up and died.
Casey took a large, shuddering breath. “Dad, I can’t,” he said. “I won’t. This is who I am. This is who I love.”
“Then don’t bother coming home,” Mr. Conner said. He did not look angry now, rather devastated, defeated. He clenched his fists, like he was not sure what to do with them.
“Dad—” Casey started.
“Let him go,” Zeke whispered. “He’ll come around. Let him go.”
Casey sagged. “I feel like shit, like I’ve let him down. Once again.”
“By being yourself?” Zeke asked.
“Not just the gay thing. I’ve always been one big let down for him. He doesn’t know it, but he’d rather have you as a son.”
“I’m just as gay as you are,” Zeke laughed. “And I’ll probably be repeating senior year for the third time next year.”
“But you play football, you’re into cars, manly stuff.”
“He loves you, Casey, and he’ll come around, and if he doesn’t? Then fuck him.”
Casey swallowed. It was easy for Zeke to hate his parents. They had given him good reason to. But Casey’s childhood had been decent. His parents had been dismayed by the slight fairy-like boy who didn’t like sports, who preferred to stare through the lens of a camera rather than a football helmet. But they had always treated him well, never abused or neglected him. He had never been neglected.
Zeke, on the other hand, was used to people loving and leaving him.
“You can come live with me.”
“Your parents will eventually come home.”
“What, once a year for like a week? I’m sure we could work around that. They can kiss my ass if they don’t like it.”
“I can’t live with you.”
Zeke shrugged. “Then don’t.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure.” Zeke looked bored, but his eyes had darkened. “Let’s get out of here. We can hang out McDonald’s, have an egg McMuffin or something until school starts.”
“You really want me to?” Casey asked. He hated it when Zeke shut down and got that I-don’t-give-a-fuck-about-anything look on his face. The very threat of rejection made his whole soul go slack, shut-down.
“I don’t give a fuck what you eat.”
“Don’t be a dick. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Sure,” Zeke said, the corners of his mouth twitching just a tad. “If you want.”
“Fuck you,” Casey said, breathless and smiling now. “You’re dying for me to come live with you.”
“Don’t you wish,” Zeke said, pulling away.
“I’ll need my own towel,” Casey said. “And toothbrush.”
Zeke’s eyes brightened. “There’s a Walmart on the way home. Fuck school. We’re ditching today.”
“Sounds good,” Casey said. He smiled, feeling a freedom that he had never before felt. His life shone before him now, glimmering with hope and love, no longer hidden in shadows. “And for the record, I don’t want an egg McMuffin, I want the hotcakes. With bacon.”
END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-12-25 12:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-28 03:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-25 04:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-28 03:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-25 06:16 pm (UTC)“And when we’re through,” Zeke said. “You can take your cherry popped self back to Daddy and tell him who owns you. Who owns you?” Zeke growled, crawling toward Casey to suck on Casey’s neck.
“You,” Casey gasped. “All the way.”
NNNNNnnuuUuuGHHHHH!!!!!
Poor Mr. C. Or NOT. I get the feeling that the Man Of the *Other* House will eventually break him down enough to eventually accept crap. And if not, then yes--fuck him for trying to get in the way of twoo wub. Doesn't Mr. Connor GET that he must not get in the way of the OTP? Geez. He needs an education--sorry, Daddy-o, but you should be happy it was ZEKE who got to him first. You mighta had to deal with pervy chickenhawks who love them sweet twink meat.
That's good too, though. Hmmm.
Thanks SO MUCH honey! You so friggin' delivered, it ain't real!!!! *SQUASH*!
no subject
Date: 2013-12-28 03:19 pm (UTC)I'm sooo happy, so relieved. This makes my heart sing that you liked it, that it worked for you! I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it initially, but then the story just took over!
:))))
I'm so glad you liked it!!!!!! I loved my story by moit, too, so it was a happy happy Christmas for me, yay! :)
no subject
Date: 2013-12-25 10:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-28 03:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-26 08:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-28 03:20 pm (UTC)Poor Casey indeed, being a bit torn, but I think his parents will come around in time! :))
no subject
Date: 2014-01-02 05:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-12 05:06 pm (UTC)