meltdown 2/4 (faculty, zeke/casey, mashup)
Title: Meltdown 2/4
Author: Cesare almostnever
Fandom: The Faculty
Pairing/Characters: Casey/Zeke
Rating: NC17
Notes: Written for fandom_mashup, using the works of sophinisba.
sophinisba fics used: Incense (one character eavesdrops on two others). Blue Genes (Casey makes an aggressive pass at Zeke; discussion of genetics). Getting Kinda Used To It (Stokely taken over by the aliens). Limitless Oceans (tentacles). Trekkie Sci-Fi Freak Who's Been Right So Far (holed up away from the rest of the world). A Brief Adventure (characters behind bars).
*
"We can't take her by surprise, but we can take her," Zeke says. Half his face is dark and sticky. There's a still-bleeding wound on his scalp, fresh blood dripping over the clots in his hair.
Stokely can hear him, he's not even trying to be stealthy, though she can't tell whether that's conscious strategy or the reckless by-product of the drugs.
Casey giggles, trying to squelch it behind both hands. "How?"
"The bolt's not that secure. You can get your fingers through and push it open. If she tries to stop you I'll blow scat in her face. Might not kill her but I bet it'll fuck up her eyes."
She sits quietly, betraying nothing.
"Raiders of the Lost Ark," Casey says, pulling at his face to mime melting flesh. "Then what?"
"Then I take care of her while you run as fast as you fucking can and get some help. Don't fuck around with the police. Get out of town, find a phone, get an emergency number for the CDC. Don't say anything about aliens, just tell them it's a contagion and a bunch of people are dead. Then you steal a car and drive for the coast."
"What about you?"
"It's better if we split up and get out of the state," Zeke says almost instantly, almost fast enough. "Follow the road signs to DC and go to the Lincoln Memorial. I'll meet you there."
"Liar." Casey giggles again, mirthlessly, and pinches his own arm until the laughter stops. "You're all kamikaze and shit, what the fuck."
"I got Furlong and Drake. I can deal with her."
Stokely gathers herself. Furlong didn't know Zeke's pens could kill him, and Zeke lost the gun he used to shoot Drake. He won't have that kind of luck again.
If she has to confront them both, she'll have to kill one. Zeke, almost definitely. And then Casey will kill her while she finishes Zeke off.
But if Zeke comes at her while Casey runs away, Stokely will have no trouble fighting Zeke down, one-on-one. She'll use her hands and chaetae to pin him down til he sweats the scat out, and then she'll kiss the atoke into his mouth.
She can tell he knows. His face is tight with brutally suppressed fear, looking out at her. Hard eyes and mouth.
"You have longer fingers," Casey says. "Why don't you get the bolt and I'll go out."
"Casey," Zeke says flatly.
"I handled Marybeth and she was bigger than any of them."
"Sure. And that makes you a cold-blooded killer who can stab something that looks just like his best friend."
Casey quiets. He stares through the cage wall at Stokely; she meets his eyes evenly, watching the glint of his irises, judging the size of his pupils. He's saturated with the drug.
Stokely has three symbiotes ready inside her now, but she's dehydrating. She'll need water to make more. She'll need water soon anyway. The poisoned blood leaking down Zeke's face looks tempting, delicious. The chaetae seethe in her mouth. They ache to suck under Zeke's broken skin, to sop up the sweat on Casey's brow.
Casey says, "I'm not leaving you here."
The tiny bit of Stokely's consciousness that's still human believes, for just a second, that he's talking to her. Suffers, when she realizes he said it to Zeke.
"It's not going to work if you fucking wait around, Casey. I can fight her off and follow you, but you can't look back. You have to outrun them all. And we gotta do it now. They could be sending more any minute now."
"They should've been here by now," Casey says slowly. He's thinking, and that's bad.
Stokely says, "Was I really your best friend, Casey?"
He looks at her again, pained. More importantly, distracted. He sighs. "You were the only person who'd ever talk to me without giving me shit all the time."
"You were my best friend too."
"Too bad you're an alien bitchwhore now, Stokes," Zeke says.
She ignores him. "I'm still your friend, Casey. I wish you could understand. I'm happier now." She moves a little closer to the mesh. "Everything's so much better once you join... you know so much more, because you're bigger than just yourself. You're not stuck in your own limited human mind anymore. Everything's so clear! Your thoughts aren't clouded with chemicals, hormones, biology... You're free. And you're going to throw that away just because you're a little scared? It's sad, Casey. I thought you had more courage than that."
Predictably, Zeke stands and advances toward her, making himself a target. "Let's see how much courage you have with a gut full of scat. Come on, Casey. Pull the bolt. I'm gonna kill her."
"There's gotta be a way to save them," Casey mutters, slowly getting to his feet.
"We already tried it your way."
"So we try another way. We can come up with something better than this."
"Snap out of it!" Zeke already has pens uncapped and poised. "Let's go, man, we can't stay trapped in here, we've got to move. Get the bolt."
"I said no! You can't be that high." Casey rocks on his feet, twitchy from scat, hands fisted and swinging at his sides. "I'm not opening that fucking door just so you can commit suicide by alien. If we think for five minutes we'll come up with a better plan. Or was it your whole big strategy to die today?"
"I don't give a shit." Zeke starts on the bolt himself. He's obviously bluffing to manipulate Casey into cooperating, but Stokely braces herself all the same.
Casey grabs Zeke's arm and yanks him back-- Zeke stumbles off-balance. His hands close on Casey's arms, to shake or shove away, it's impossible to tell, because. Casey reaches up, grabs the back of Zeke's neck and tugs his head down and kisses his mouth ferociously.
Zeke's jitters disappear. He's strangely very still; Casey lets him go and glares up at him. Zeke is broad-shouldered and nearly a foot taller than Casey, but the focused tension radiating from Casey stands up easily to Zeke's dark unreadable stare.
Stokely calculates; she benefits most if they're at odds with each other, not cooperating, pooling ideas and information, making plans.
She laughs at them, shrill and high. Zeke's jaw works. She puts as much disdain and humiliating scorn into her laughter as she can manage, and watches Zeke's hands clench into fists. He doesn't look at her or acknowledge her, but he closes his eyes, teeth clenched.
"What was that," Zeke says.
Casey ignores Stokely, ignores the aggressive warning signs of Zeke's body language. He tips up his chin, challenging. "What? You don't give a shit if you get killed. What do you care if I fucking kiss you?"
The crash of a body on metal echoes through the locker room, not for the first time tonight. Casey bounces like a ragdoll against the cage wall, and Zeke rushes him, crowds him. Stokely can't even tell at first if it's a fight, or--
It's not a fight.
Zeke's hands brace on either side of Casey's head, Zeke's fingers curling through the red mesh. Casey grips Zeke's hair. Stokely tilts to get a better look. Their bodies smash together, faces tipped and interlocked. Casey's up on his toes trying to shove his hips against Zeke's. Zeke bends at the knees and slouches til they line up better, his long legs curving open around Casey.
Casey gropes him, his thigh, his ass, and finally, boldly, the long lump of his hard-on, his hand describing the shape through the denim. Zeke growls and pins Casey to the wall. His hips roll and snap against Casey's. Casey gasps and kisses him again.
Stokely moves gradually closer to the cage. They don't see her, intent on each other, Zeke's fingers twisting open Casey's fly.
She could touch them. Casey's shirt rucks up, baring the small of his back, and she puts her fingers against the mesh, feeling the brief brush of smooth skin.
Their noises fill the locker room, rough panting, quiet grunts that ring out in the almost silent room. Casey whines as Zeke shoves and hitches against him; Zeke croaks when Casey licks his jaw. Stokely can smell them both, fresh sweat, the saline odor of precome, oceanic.
She's so thirsty... she nudges her fingers through the cage and touches Casey again, watches him cry out into the curve of Zeke's neck. She barely stops herself from unleashing the chaetae to seek out their moisture. Their tainted bodies would kill her. She wants it, though, she can imagine it: tendrils looping and tangling around their limbs, binding them together, drinking them dry.
She can hear the gentle slosh of the pool in the adjoining room. If she crept away now and slipped into the water, they might not even notice. If it were possible, if she could, she'd just leave them and go.
Casey's hand slides up Zeke's bared dick now, frictive, dragging slick liquid over the head and down the shaft. Zeke comes in thick wet streaks that glisten on the white skin of Casey's flat stomach.
"Fuck," Zeke mutters, and drops to his knees, thighs still spread. He sits back on his heels and seizes Casey's hips, his mouth opening around Casey, who squawks in shock and nearly climbs the wall before sagging back against it. Zeke moves his mouth back and forth awkwardly; Stokely can tell it's only by force of will that he's not gagging outright.
Casey clutches Zeke's shoulder, groaning, and pulls back, thrusting forward sharp and short, not stabbing all the way into Zeke's mouth but just pushing the head of his cock through Zeke's lips and against his tongue. Stokely can see it all. She watches enviously as Casey comes and Zeke swallows. His Adam's apple bobs; she tilts to get a better look. Her mouth is so dry, so dry.
And then she's weak and hot and flat out on the floor, and her best friend folds down to his knees and leans against Zeke and doesn't notice Stokely at all.
*
Next.
Author: Cesare almostnever
Fandom: The Faculty
Pairing/Characters: Casey/Zeke
Rating: NC17
Notes: Written for fandom_mashup, using the works of sophinisba.
sophinisba fics used: Incense (one character eavesdrops on two others). Blue Genes (Casey makes an aggressive pass at Zeke; discussion of genetics). Getting Kinda Used To It (Stokely taken over by the aliens). Limitless Oceans (tentacles). Trekkie Sci-Fi Freak Who's Been Right So Far (holed up away from the rest of the world). A Brief Adventure (characters behind bars).
*
"We can't take her by surprise, but we can take her," Zeke says. Half his face is dark and sticky. There's a still-bleeding wound on his scalp, fresh blood dripping over the clots in his hair.
Stokely can hear him, he's not even trying to be stealthy, though she can't tell whether that's conscious strategy or the reckless by-product of the drugs.
Casey giggles, trying to squelch it behind both hands. "How?"
"The bolt's not that secure. You can get your fingers through and push it open. If she tries to stop you I'll blow scat in her face. Might not kill her but I bet it'll fuck up her eyes."
She sits quietly, betraying nothing.
"Raiders of the Lost Ark," Casey says, pulling at his face to mime melting flesh. "Then what?"
"Then I take care of her while you run as fast as you fucking can and get some help. Don't fuck around with the police. Get out of town, find a phone, get an emergency number for the CDC. Don't say anything about aliens, just tell them it's a contagion and a bunch of people are dead. Then you steal a car and drive for the coast."
"What about you?"
"It's better if we split up and get out of the state," Zeke says almost instantly, almost fast enough. "Follow the road signs to DC and go to the Lincoln Memorial. I'll meet you there."
"Liar." Casey giggles again, mirthlessly, and pinches his own arm until the laughter stops. "You're all kamikaze and shit, what the fuck."
"I got Furlong and Drake. I can deal with her."
Stokely gathers herself. Furlong didn't know Zeke's pens could kill him, and Zeke lost the gun he used to shoot Drake. He won't have that kind of luck again.
If she has to confront them both, she'll have to kill one. Zeke, almost definitely. And then Casey will kill her while she finishes Zeke off.
But if Zeke comes at her while Casey runs away, Stokely will have no trouble fighting Zeke down, one-on-one. She'll use her hands and chaetae to pin him down til he sweats the scat out, and then she'll kiss the atoke into his mouth.
She can tell he knows. His face is tight with brutally suppressed fear, looking out at her. Hard eyes and mouth.
"You have longer fingers," Casey says. "Why don't you get the bolt and I'll go out."
"Casey," Zeke says flatly.
"I handled Marybeth and she was bigger than any of them."
"Sure. And that makes you a cold-blooded killer who can stab something that looks just like his best friend."
Casey quiets. He stares through the cage wall at Stokely; she meets his eyes evenly, watching the glint of his irises, judging the size of his pupils. He's saturated with the drug.
Stokely has three symbiotes ready inside her now, but she's dehydrating. She'll need water to make more. She'll need water soon anyway. The poisoned blood leaking down Zeke's face looks tempting, delicious. The chaetae seethe in her mouth. They ache to suck under Zeke's broken skin, to sop up the sweat on Casey's brow.
Casey says, "I'm not leaving you here."
The tiny bit of Stokely's consciousness that's still human believes, for just a second, that he's talking to her. Suffers, when she realizes he said it to Zeke.
"It's not going to work if you fucking wait around, Casey. I can fight her off and follow you, but you can't look back. You have to outrun them all. And we gotta do it now. They could be sending more any minute now."
"They should've been here by now," Casey says slowly. He's thinking, and that's bad.
Stokely says, "Was I really your best friend, Casey?"
He looks at her again, pained. More importantly, distracted. He sighs. "You were the only person who'd ever talk to me without giving me shit all the time."
"You were my best friend too."
"Too bad you're an alien bitchwhore now, Stokes," Zeke says.
She ignores him. "I'm still your friend, Casey. I wish you could understand. I'm happier now." She moves a little closer to the mesh. "Everything's so much better once you join... you know so much more, because you're bigger than just yourself. You're not stuck in your own limited human mind anymore. Everything's so clear! Your thoughts aren't clouded with chemicals, hormones, biology... You're free. And you're going to throw that away just because you're a little scared? It's sad, Casey. I thought you had more courage than that."
Predictably, Zeke stands and advances toward her, making himself a target. "Let's see how much courage you have with a gut full of scat. Come on, Casey. Pull the bolt. I'm gonna kill her."
"There's gotta be a way to save them," Casey mutters, slowly getting to his feet.
"We already tried it your way."
"So we try another way. We can come up with something better than this."
"Snap out of it!" Zeke already has pens uncapped and poised. "Let's go, man, we can't stay trapped in here, we've got to move. Get the bolt."
"I said no! You can't be that high." Casey rocks on his feet, twitchy from scat, hands fisted and swinging at his sides. "I'm not opening that fucking door just so you can commit suicide by alien. If we think for five minutes we'll come up with a better plan. Or was it your whole big strategy to die today?"
"I don't give a shit." Zeke starts on the bolt himself. He's obviously bluffing to manipulate Casey into cooperating, but Stokely braces herself all the same.
Casey grabs Zeke's arm and yanks him back-- Zeke stumbles off-balance. His hands close on Casey's arms, to shake or shove away, it's impossible to tell, because. Casey reaches up, grabs the back of Zeke's neck and tugs his head down and kisses his mouth ferociously.
Zeke's jitters disappear. He's strangely very still; Casey lets him go and glares up at him. Zeke is broad-shouldered and nearly a foot taller than Casey, but the focused tension radiating from Casey stands up easily to Zeke's dark unreadable stare.
Stokely calculates; she benefits most if they're at odds with each other, not cooperating, pooling ideas and information, making plans.
She laughs at them, shrill and high. Zeke's jaw works. She puts as much disdain and humiliating scorn into her laughter as she can manage, and watches Zeke's hands clench into fists. He doesn't look at her or acknowledge her, but he closes his eyes, teeth clenched.
"What was that," Zeke says.
Casey ignores Stokely, ignores the aggressive warning signs of Zeke's body language. He tips up his chin, challenging. "What? You don't give a shit if you get killed. What do you care if I fucking kiss you?"
The crash of a body on metal echoes through the locker room, not for the first time tonight. Casey bounces like a ragdoll against the cage wall, and Zeke rushes him, crowds him. Stokely can't even tell at first if it's a fight, or--
It's not a fight.
Zeke's hands brace on either side of Casey's head, Zeke's fingers curling through the red mesh. Casey grips Zeke's hair. Stokely tilts to get a better look. Their bodies smash together, faces tipped and interlocked. Casey's up on his toes trying to shove his hips against Zeke's. Zeke bends at the knees and slouches til they line up better, his long legs curving open around Casey.
Casey gropes him, his thigh, his ass, and finally, boldly, the long lump of his hard-on, his hand describing the shape through the denim. Zeke growls and pins Casey to the wall. His hips roll and snap against Casey's. Casey gasps and kisses him again.
Stokely moves gradually closer to the cage. They don't see her, intent on each other, Zeke's fingers twisting open Casey's fly.
She could touch them. Casey's shirt rucks up, baring the small of his back, and she puts her fingers against the mesh, feeling the brief brush of smooth skin.
Their noises fill the locker room, rough panting, quiet grunts that ring out in the almost silent room. Casey whines as Zeke shoves and hitches against him; Zeke croaks when Casey licks his jaw. Stokely can smell them both, fresh sweat, the saline odor of precome, oceanic.
She's so thirsty... she nudges her fingers through the cage and touches Casey again, watches him cry out into the curve of Zeke's neck. She barely stops herself from unleashing the chaetae to seek out their moisture. Their tainted bodies would kill her. She wants it, though, she can imagine it: tendrils looping and tangling around their limbs, binding them together, drinking them dry.
She can hear the gentle slosh of the pool in the adjoining room. If she crept away now and slipped into the water, they might not even notice. If it were possible, if she could, she'd just leave them and go.
Casey's hand slides up Zeke's bared dick now, frictive, dragging slick liquid over the head and down the shaft. Zeke comes in thick wet streaks that glisten on the white skin of Casey's flat stomach.
"Fuck," Zeke mutters, and drops to his knees, thighs still spread. He sits back on his heels and seizes Casey's hips, his mouth opening around Casey, who squawks in shock and nearly climbs the wall before sagging back against it. Zeke moves his mouth back and forth awkwardly; Stokely can tell it's only by force of will that he's not gagging outright.
Casey clutches Zeke's shoulder, groaning, and pulls back, thrusting forward sharp and short, not stabbing all the way into Zeke's mouth but just pushing the head of his cock through Zeke's lips and against his tongue. Stokely can see it all. She watches enviously as Casey comes and Zeke swallows. His Adam's apple bobs; she tilts to get a better look. Her mouth is so dry, so dry.
And then she's weak and hot and flat out on the floor, and her best friend folds down to his knees and leans against Zeke and doesn't notice Stokely at all.
*
Next.