Fic: Being Chased
Dec. 18th, 2017 04:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
himitsudesuFandom: The Faculty (1998)
Warnings: Frottage. Questionable coping mechanisms. Badly written m/m
Rating: R
Word Count: 1601
Summary: “You learned to run from what you feel, and that's why you have nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control.”
― Megan Chance, The Spiritualist
"I don't think a person should run, unless he's being chased."
-Casey Connor, The Faculty
Sometimes, Casey has nightmares. Zeke knows how to help.
Life spirals around him, the world narrowing down to a series of flashes and sparks that make up the Now. Fear and pain and elation, triumph and unease. Like the first day of school after summer break, or the cold chill against bare legs when you swim through a cold spot in an otherwise warm lake. Like a leap of faith through open air, coming up hard against an unforgiving brick wall.
His heart is racing, his hands shaking. A double dose of scat is rushing through his veins, roaring in his ears. His world is a powder white rush, a blur of senses where touch is taste is sound is life.
He shakes his head, tries to clear his doubled vision. It's hard to think now. Hard to plan, hard to breathe. The wall is hard against his back, the floor cold against his legs. His thighs ache with exertion, and his throat burns with the effort to gasp out one more breath past his straining heart.
He wonders, briefly, is this is what it feels like to die.
There's a touch on his face, now. Feather soft and oh so warm, but he knows what happens now. He remembers the searing burn of the parasites, the tearing pain as row after row of razor sharp teeth burrow into his flesh. For the others, she had made it quick, almost painless. But he had defied her. He had defeated her, and while she had promised a world without pain, he knows that would be too much to hope for. She may be dying, but he thinks she'll take him with her.
He braces himself for the pain. Draws in breath to scream. He hopes it will end soon. He knows that it won't.
But, he's wrong. As quickly as it starts, it stops. The pain is gone. The touch on his cheek shifts, traces a path wet with tears he has not realized were falling. Brushes around the shell of his ear and comes to rest against the back of his neck. Warm and heavy and real, the touch brings comfort. Safety.
Soft lips press against his own, warm and dry and familiar. Day old stubble rubs against him, and his nose is full of the scent of stale cigarettes. He shudders, reaches out, his own fingers locking together against the back of Zeke's head, pulling him down. He bites down on Zeke's lip, pulling it between his teeth. Zeke groans, pulls away.
“Hey, Casey. You back with me, now?”
Casey sighs and leans back, resting against his pillow. The dream is fading now, as it always does, taking with it the pain and fear, leaving nothing but sweaty sheets and trembling hands.
“Zeke, man. Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Nah, I was just coming to bed. Was it the dream again?”
Casey doesn't answer, just shifts in the bed until he's lying on his side, facing Zeke. Zeke mirrors him, his hand now resting on Casey's hip, his thumb tracing circles in the exposed skin at the waistband of his shorts. Casey leans forward, resting his forehead against Zeke's chest. Zeke's warm breath rustles the soft hairs on the back of Casey's neck.
“It's been over a year, now. Do you think they'll ever go away?”
“I'm sure they will, Case. They've been less frequent lately. That has to mean something, right?”
Casey is silent for a moment, feeling the flutter of Zeke's heart, feeling his own heart slowing to match it. When he finally speaks, his voice is low.
“They've been better since you.”
Zeke's low chuckle rumbles against Casey's cheek. He shifts in the bed, leans forward, brushes his lips against Casey's forehead.
“Well, then. Let's see if we can't improve it even more.”
Casey doesn't have time to respond before Zeke rolls him onto his back and straddles him. He drags his fingers slowly up Casey's sides, brushing lightly against his rib cage as he rucks his t-shirt under his armpits. The touch is almost light enough to tickle, and Casey feels goose-flesh rise on his arms and his nipples tighten with the sensation. The shirt is pulled up, over his head, and Casey finds himself prone on the bed, his arms held tangled above his heads with his own night shirt.
“Keep them there,” Zeke whispers, mouth close enough to Casey's ear that he thinks he can feel his lips moving. He doesn't say anything back, merely nods his head, and grips his hands tightly around the bars of the headboard.
Zeke shifts again on the bed, moving down the length of Casey's body. His blunt nails drag along the skin of Casey's arms, around his shoulders and down his back. It isn't hard enough to break skin, not even hard enough to leave a welt, but Casey finds himself arching away from the bed as Zeke's strong fingers trail all the way down his back, and snag against the waistband of his boxers. He stops there, looking down at Casey with a slow, wicked smile before he bends forward, nipping lightly at Casey's mouth before trailing a wet line of soft kisses down his neck.
His tongue circles slowly around Casey's nipple as he pulls the pebbled flesh into his mouth, suckling lightly on the sensitive flesh. Casey groans, and his fingers tighten to a white knuckled grasp on the headboard to keep him from grabbing Zeke's hair and pulling him into a kiss. Just when Casey thinks he can't take it anymore, Zeke pulls back, letting the abused flesh slide between his teeth one last time. He pauses for a moment to let Casey catch his breath, and then bends forward and takes the other nipple between his teeth. His left hand raises up, rolling the overly stimulated flesh gently, keeping it hard. He pinches the flesh of one nipple between his fingers as he scrapes his teeth across the other, and Casey finds himself achingly hard and gasping for air.
Casey feels the blush rising in his cheeks, and silently curses his fair complexion as the flush spreads down his neck and across his chest. Zeke, meanwhile, looks as composed as always, apart from swollen lips and a bulge in his shorts. For a moment, Zeke is so gorgeous that all Casey can think about is what it would be like to frame him in the viewfinder of his camera. He can practically feel the shutter button under his finger. And then he moves, and the moment is gone, shattering with Casey's focus as Zeke grips the waistband of Casey's shorts, and pulls them off in one smooth motion.
Casey's cock springs free, resting hard and aching against his thigh, but he doesn't have long to think about it before Zeke has wrapped his warm lips around his shaft, and swallowed him. Casey's hips jerk, but Zeke grips his hips tightly, holding him still as he swirls his tongue around Casey's dick, licking lightly over the head as he teases against the slight. Zeke's mouth is hot and wet, and the suction on his cock is hard enough to almost hurt. Casey jerks against the headboard, holding his hands steady only by the strongest force of will. He wants to bury his hand in Zeke's hair, thrust his cock down Zeke's throat. But that isn't how this is played. He holds himself rigid while Zeke plays with him, and when Zeke is sure that Casey has regained control, he loosens the grip on Casey's hips, and reaches between his legs to grip lightly at Casey's balls.
“Zeke.... Please.” His voice is soft, practically breathy, but Zeke hears him. He
pulls off of Casey with an almost audible pop, and licks his lip before running the back of his hand across his chin.
“You ready, Casey?” To his credit, Zeke sounds only slightly hoarse. But Casey nods his head, knowing he won't be able to take much more.
Zeke grins, then takes Casey's cock in his hand, pulling along the shaft gently, then twisting his wrist slightly. Casey closes his eyes, bites his lip, his neck straining as his head rolls back into the pillow. He feels Zeke's weight settling on top of him, feels Zeke lining himself along Casey, and then Zeke's cock rubs against Casey's. Zeke has them both in his large, warm hands, jerking and twisting, gasping in Casey's ear as he thrusts against him. It's too much. The sound, the sensation, even the smell. Not after everything else. Casey feels himself tightening, feels his toes start to curl, and with a sobbing groan he comes, spilling himself against his and Zeke's chest. There's only a moment's delay before Zeke himself is coming, grunting with his completion.
When it's over, they lay beside each other, panting for air. Casey wipes at himself with a discarded bath towel, as Zeke gently massages the sore muscles along Casey's shoulder and arms, strained from his grip on the headboard.
"Feeling a little better now?" Zeke can't hide the smile in his voice as Casey throws the towel across the room, and curls up against him, shifting until he's comfortable, his head resting on Zeke's chest, one hand draped over him, fingers curled together with Zeke's. Zeke's free hand continues stroking along Casey's back, brushing through his hair.
"You know, Marybeth wasn't all bad," Casey mumbles, barely holding back a yawn as he nods, eyes already drifting shut. "After all, she brought us together, didn't she?"
Zeke can't think of anything to say, but it wouldn't matter if he could. Casey is already asleep.
Warnings: Frottage. Questionable coping mechanisms. Badly written m/m
Rating: R
Word Count: 1601
Summary: “You learned to run from what you feel, and that's why you have nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control.”
― Megan Chance, The Spiritualist
"I don't think a person should run, unless he's being chased."
-Casey Connor, The Faculty
Sometimes, Casey has nightmares. Zeke knows how to help.
Life spirals around him, the world narrowing down to a series of flashes and sparks that make up the Now. Fear and pain and elation, triumph and unease. Like the first day of school after summer break, or the cold chill against bare legs when you swim through a cold spot in an otherwise warm lake. Like a leap of faith through open air, coming up hard against an unforgiving brick wall.
His heart is racing, his hands shaking. A double dose of scat is rushing through his veins, roaring in his ears. His world is a powder white rush, a blur of senses where touch is taste is sound is life.
He shakes his head, tries to clear his doubled vision. It's hard to think now. Hard to plan, hard to breathe. The wall is hard against his back, the floor cold against his legs. His thighs ache with exertion, and his throat burns with the effort to gasp out one more breath past his straining heart.
He wonders, briefly, is this is what it feels like to die.
There's a touch on his face, now. Feather soft and oh so warm, but he knows what happens now. He remembers the searing burn of the parasites, the tearing pain as row after row of razor sharp teeth burrow into his flesh. For the others, she had made it quick, almost painless. But he had defied her. He had defeated her, and while she had promised a world without pain, he knows that would be too much to hope for. She may be dying, but he thinks she'll take him with her.
He braces himself for the pain. Draws in breath to scream. He hopes it will end soon. He knows that it won't.
But, he's wrong. As quickly as it starts, it stops. The pain is gone. The touch on his cheek shifts, traces a path wet with tears he has not realized were falling. Brushes around the shell of his ear and comes to rest against the back of his neck. Warm and heavy and real, the touch brings comfort. Safety.
Soft lips press against his own, warm and dry and familiar. Day old stubble rubs against him, and his nose is full of the scent of stale cigarettes. He shudders, reaches out, his own fingers locking together against the back of Zeke's head, pulling him down. He bites down on Zeke's lip, pulling it between his teeth. Zeke groans, pulls away.
“Hey, Casey. You back with me, now?”
Casey sighs and leans back, resting against his pillow. The dream is fading now, as it always does, taking with it the pain and fear, leaving nothing but sweaty sheets and trembling hands.
“Zeke, man. Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Nah, I was just coming to bed. Was it the dream again?”
Casey doesn't answer, just shifts in the bed until he's lying on his side, facing Zeke. Zeke mirrors him, his hand now resting on Casey's hip, his thumb tracing circles in the exposed skin at the waistband of his shorts. Casey leans forward, resting his forehead against Zeke's chest. Zeke's warm breath rustles the soft hairs on the back of Casey's neck.
“It's been over a year, now. Do you think they'll ever go away?”
“I'm sure they will, Case. They've been less frequent lately. That has to mean something, right?”
Casey is silent for a moment, feeling the flutter of Zeke's heart, feeling his own heart slowing to match it. When he finally speaks, his voice is low.
“They've been better since you.”
Zeke's low chuckle rumbles against Casey's cheek. He shifts in the bed, leans forward, brushes his lips against Casey's forehead.
“Well, then. Let's see if we can't improve it even more.”
Casey doesn't have time to respond before Zeke rolls him onto his back and straddles him. He drags his fingers slowly up Casey's sides, brushing lightly against his rib cage as he rucks his t-shirt under his armpits. The touch is almost light enough to tickle, and Casey feels goose-flesh rise on his arms and his nipples tighten with the sensation. The shirt is pulled up, over his head, and Casey finds himself prone on the bed, his arms held tangled above his heads with his own night shirt.
“Keep them there,” Zeke whispers, mouth close enough to Casey's ear that he thinks he can feel his lips moving. He doesn't say anything back, merely nods his head, and grips his hands tightly around the bars of the headboard.
Zeke shifts again on the bed, moving down the length of Casey's body. His blunt nails drag along the skin of Casey's arms, around his shoulders and down his back. It isn't hard enough to break skin, not even hard enough to leave a welt, but Casey finds himself arching away from the bed as Zeke's strong fingers trail all the way down his back, and snag against the waistband of his boxers. He stops there, looking down at Casey with a slow, wicked smile before he bends forward, nipping lightly at Casey's mouth before trailing a wet line of soft kisses down his neck.
His tongue circles slowly around Casey's nipple as he pulls the pebbled flesh into his mouth, suckling lightly on the sensitive flesh. Casey groans, and his fingers tighten to a white knuckled grasp on the headboard to keep him from grabbing Zeke's hair and pulling him into a kiss. Just when Casey thinks he can't take it anymore, Zeke pulls back, letting the abused flesh slide between his teeth one last time. He pauses for a moment to let Casey catch his breath, and then bends forward and takes the other nipple between his teeth. His left hand raises up, rolling the overly stimulated flesh gently, keeping it hard. He pinches the flesh of one nipple between his fingers as he scrapes his teeth across the other, and Casey finds himself achingly hard and gasping for air.
Casey feels the blush rising in his cheeks, and silently curses his fair complexion as the flush spreads down his neck and across his chest. Zeke, meanwhile, looks as composed as always, apart from swollen lips and a bulge in his shorts. For a moment, Zeke is so gorgeous that all Casey can think about is what it would be like to frame him in the viewfinder of his camera. He can practically feel the shutter button under his finger. And then he moves, and the moment is gone, shattering with Casey's focus as Zeke grips the waistband of Casey's shorts, and pulls them off in one smooth motion.
Casey's cock springs free, resting hard and aching against his thigh, but he doesn't have long to think about it before Zeke has wrapped his warm lips around his shaft, and swallowed him. Casey's hips jerk, but Zeke grips his hips tightly, holding him still as he swirls his tongue around Casey's dick, licking lightly over the head as he teases against the slight. Zeke's mouth is hot and wet, and the suction on his cock is hard enough to almost hurt. Casey jerks against the headboard, holding his hands steady only by the strongest force of will. He wants to bury his hand in Zeke's hair, thrust his cock down Zeke's throat. But that isn't how this is played. He holds himself rigid while Zeke plays with him, and when Zeke is sure that Casey has regained control, he loosens the grip on Casey's hips, and reaches between his legs to grip lightly at Casey's balls.
“Zeke.... Please.” His voice is soft, practically breathy, but Zeke hears him. He
pulls off of Casey with an almost audible pop, and licks his lip before running the back of his hand across his chin.
“You ready, Casey?” To his credit, Zeke sounds only slightly hoarse. But Casey nods his head, knowing he won't be able to take much more.
Zeke grins, then takes Casey's cock in his hand, pulling along the shaft gently, then twisting his wrist slightly. Casey closes his eyes, bites his lip, his neck straining as his head rolls back into the pillow. He feels Zeke's weight settling on top of him, feels Zeke lining himself along Casey, and then Zeke's cock rubs against Casey's. Zeke has them both in his large, warm hands, jerking and twisting, gasping in Casey's ear as he thrusts against him. It's too much. The sound, the sensation, even the smell. Not after everything else. Casey feels himself tightening, feels his toes start to curl, and with a sobbing groan he comes, spilling himself against his and Zeke's chest. There's only a moment's delay before Zeke himself is coming, grunting with his completion.
When it's over, they lay beside each other, panting for air. Casey wipes at himself with a discarded bath towel, as Zeke gently massages the sore muscles along Casey's shoulder and arms, strained from his grip on the headboard.
"Feeling a little better now?" Zeke can't hide the smile in his voice as Casey throws the towel across the room, and curls up against him, shifting until he's comfortable, his head resting on Zeke's chest, one hand draped over him, fingers curled together with Zeke's. Zeke's free hand continues stroking along Casey's back, brushing through his hair.
"You know, Marybeth wasn't all bad," Casey mumbles, barely holding back a yawn as he nods, eyes already drifting shut. "After all, she brought us together, didn't she?"
Zeke can't think of anything to say, but it wouldn't matter if he could. Casey is already asleep.
