(no subject)
~*Well, babydracky wanted werewolf!Casey for her birthday, soooo... yea! Lol!*~
Title: Locks and Wires
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: R?
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Zeke loves Casey. A lot.
It was starting already. The sun didn't even need to set for Casey's cheek to twitch, the familiar snarl curling the corner of his lips. He'd try holding it back or look away for Zeke not to see it, but it was always obvious. Zeke put his empty plate in the sink and turned to the boy, who was still eating-his third plate of just the pork, ignoring the potatoes and bread of the meal. “Case...”
“Gimmee a fucking second,” the boy snapped, not bothering to look at him. He took another giant forkful of meat into his mouth and chewed as Zeke looked away to the window.
The deep orange of waning sunlight was dwindling fast; Zeke held the edge of the counter and stared, knowing that he had less than an hour to get everything ready for the long, long night ahead. Tonight would be the true test of everything he'd built in the garage. The lab equipment, old tools and lawn ornaments had been taken out and the area made into a fortress, one he hoped would last this time. He'd been naïve in thinking mere locks and a few boards would cut it the month before, so he rectified it, spending enough money to make Casey cry.
“Never mind! Fuckin'... never mind, it's too damned much!”
“I said I'd do it, so I'm doing it.”
The loud sound of Casey's fork to his plate made Zeke jump and come back to reality. He startled more in seeing the last, thin stretch of orange running along the horizon. “Casey, c'mon.” He turned back to the young man, who was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He shook all over as he moved his chair back from the table and went to the back door, Zeke following close behind. Zeke stared at the back of the boy's neck, knowing not to say It's just for one night, you know that, or We'll do whatever you want tomorrow, 'k? Casey had made it clear that Zeke's placation made everything worse; Zeke wasn't even allowed to touch him until everything was put into place and he was left alone with no choice but to hope for the best.
All four locks on the reinforced steel-plated door were undone, allowing them to walk in. Zeke flicked the light-switch to illuminate the area and swallowed down the tension as best he could. He'd left nothing in here, besides a pillow and a large bowl of water. Even if the former would be utterly destroyed by the end of the night, it was there as a just in case. He didn't want his lover left without any comfort at all, even if he didn't take it. He stood still a moment to watch Casey run his hand over the newly-constructed walls.
“Soundproofed?”
Zeke nodded. “Yea.”
Casey made a solemn nod back and let his hand slide off and away. He next turned to the large set of chains on the other side; another shudder coursed through him as he wordlessly went over, slumped to a sit, undressed entirely then waited for Zeke. The sight of this made Zeke feel as if he was marching off to a war he knew he'd die fighting. Nonetheless, Zeke had a job to do.
“It was m-me. I KNOW it... was me, Zeke...”
The headline two months before had made Zeke run to the bathroom and throw up: DEATH AT TANNER'S CREEK: Three Campers Found Dead, with the sensationalist air of Herrington Post's detailing the nature of the three murders and the supposed 'coincidence' of the full moon. No one KNEW it was, in fact, a wolf-or a boy stricken as one-but with the bloody slashes, gashes and body parts strewn for hundreds of yards, the word 'wolf' made sense to the general public. No one would ever, ever suspect the boy Zeke was looking at right now... who would? Perhaps if they'd found Casey in his yard as Zeke had, naked, bruised and bloodied, his own AND his victim's, they'd see things a little differently. But Zeke was making sure, damned sure, that no one would ever know.
Casey hissed when the first cuff was clicked into place. “Not makin' 'em too tight...” Zeke said, now moving to Casey's other wrist. These bindings were twenty-times stronger than the last ones Casey had torn off; seeing as those had stalled him a while, Zeke was positive the new bonds would barely budge, or he hoped so, anyway.
“It's okay,” Casey murmured. His eyes were set on the floor, staring blankly as Zeke brought the boy's hands behind his back, chained them together in the middle then moved onto Casey's ankles.
“I'm leaving some room; I don't want you breaking your legs,” he said while cuffing Casey's ankles. All Casey needed was to feel restrained, not completely immobile. He was given a foot's worth of slack, allowing him to walk if he needed to-not run, like the last time. Finished with binding Casey's body best he could, he brought each chain to the hooks on the wall, where they were laced through then locked together tight. More locks, more hooks, more locks... until everything looked ready. He looked back to Casey's face; the young man was now staring through the barred window across the room to the night sky, which was entirely dark now.
“If... if I break through--”
“You won't.”
Casey's nostrils flared as he shot his eyes back to Zeke. His stare was cold, irises made into a electron-thin ring instead of big and beautifully blue. “If. I. Do, you're ready. Right?”
Zeke paused then nodded, but didn't know if he meant it. He could say, 'Of course, the gun's locked and silver-loaded, no sweat,' but even if his boy-gone-animal broke through and charged him, he couldn't say if he'd have the guts to take him down. “Yea,” he said anyway, not wanting to argue. It was here that he swallowed, hard, then leaned in to put their foreheads together. “I'll be right outside. Try-to remember, there're more than just chains...”
“I can't p-promise anything,” Casey said. The crack in his voice made Zeke's eyes go wet.
“Right on the back porch. And yea... with the gun, 'k?” Zeke said. Casey nodded, making both of their heads move. Feeling sick but determined, Zeke reached his hand to both of Casey's and held them. “Gonna take care of you. I love you.”
“'Love you, too,” Casey replied in a whisper.
“I know.” Zeke tried to smile and gave Casey a tiny kiss. “You'll be fine. You'll see, when--”
The sudden jolt, growl and snapping of teeth from Casey made Zeke jerk away, almost landing on his back. He stayed upright and stared with widened eyes at Casey, who'd now turned away and gone into a fetal-position. His entire body quaked as he said, “G-Go,” in a voice Zeke didn't recognize. Nothing else was left to be done; Zeke got to his feet, went back to the door and opened it. The locks were put back into place, securing the garage for the night. The last step hurt him the most; going to the far end of the area, Zeke keyed open the box on the wall and flicked the last switch. The electricity coursing through the walls in a barely-audible hum made every hair on his body stand on end. The very air around him crackled and spat with danger, making him move away. The voltage was low, but it didn't matter; he didn't want to imagine Casey throwing himself against the wire-lined walls, windows and doors, hurting himself until he passed out... or worse.
There was nothing left for Zeke to do other than trudge back to the house and go inside to find his gun. He checked to make sure the three silver bullets were inside then returned to the back porch where four packs of cigarettes, his old decrepit couch and two pens full of white powder waited for him. The six-pack of Red Bull in the fridge would play backup if he needed it, but just the cool metal of the gun in his hand was eye-opening enough.
Title: Locks and Wires
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: R?
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Zeke loves Casey. A lot.
It was starting already. The sun didn't even need to set for Casey's cheek to twitch, the familiar snarl curling the corner of his lips. He'd try holding it back or look away for Zeke not to see it, but it was always obvious. Zeke put his empty plate in the sink and turned to the boy, who was still eating-his third plate of just the pork, ignoring the potatoes and bread of the meal. “Case...”
“Gimmee a fucking second,” the boy snapped, not bothering to look at him. He took another giant forkful of meat into his mouth and chewed as Zeke looked away to the window.
The deep orange of waning sunlight was dwindling fast; Zeke held the edge of the counter and stared, knowing that he had less than an hour to get everything ready for the long, long night ahead. Tonight would be the true test of everything he'd built in the garage. The lab equipment, old tools and lawn ornaments had been taken out and the area made into a fortress, one he hoped would last this time. He'd been naïve in thinking mere locks and a few boards would cut it the month before, so he rectified it, spending enough money to make Casey cry.
“Never mind! Fuckin'... never mind, it's too damned much!”
“I said I'd do it, so I'm doing it.”
The loud sound of Casey's fork to his plate made Zeke jump and come back to reality. He startled more in seeing the last, thin stretch of orange running along the horizon. “Casey, c'mon.” He turned back to the young man, who was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He shook all over as he moved his chair back from the table and went to the back door, Zeke following close behind. Zeke stared at the back of the boy's neck, knowing not to say It's just for one night, you know that, or We'll do whatever you want tomorrow, 'k? Casey had made it clear that Zeke's placation made everything worse; Zeke wasn't even allowed to touch him until everything was put into place and he was left alone with no choice but to hope for the best.
All four locks on the reinforced steel-plated door were undone, allowing them to walk in. Zeke flicked the light-switch to illuminate the area and swallowed down the tension as best he could. He'd left nothing in here, besides a pillow and a large bowl of water. Even if the former would be utterly destroyed by the end of the night, it was there as a just in case. He didn't want his lover left without any comfort at all, even if he didn't take it. He stood still a moment to watch Casey run his hand over the newly-constructed walls.
“Soundproofed?”
Zeke nodded. “Yea.”
Casey made a solemn nod back and let his hand slide off and away. He next turned to the large set of chains on the other side; another shudder coursed through him as he wordlessly went over, slumped to a sit, undressed entirely then waited for Zeke. The sight of this made Zeke feel as if he was marching off to a war he knew he'd die fighting. Nonetheless, Zeke had a job to do.
“It was m-me. I KNOW it... was me, Zeke...”
The headline two months before had made Zeke run to the bathroom and throw up: DEATH AT TANNER'S CREEK: Three Campers Found Dead, with the sensationalist air of Herrington Post's detailing the nature of the three murders and the supposed 'coincidence' of the full moon. No one KNEW it was, in fact, a wolf-or a boy stricken as one-but with the bloody slashes, gashes and body parts strewn for hundreds of yards, the word 'wolf' made sense to the general public. No one would ever, ever suspect the boy Zeke was looking at right now... who would? Perhaps if they'd found Casey in his yard as Zeke had, naked, bruised and bloodied, his own AND his victim's, they'd see things a little differently. But Zeke was making sure, damned sure, that no one would ever know.
Casey hissed when the first cuff was clicked into place. “Not makin' 'em too tight...” Zeke said, now moving to Casey's other wrist. These bindings were twenty-times stronger than the last ones Casey had torn off; seeing as those had stalled him a while, Zeke was positive the new bonds would barely budge, or he hoped so, anyway.
“It's okay,” Casey murmured. His eyes were set on the floor, staring blankly as Zeke brought the boy's hands behind his back, chained them together in the middle then moved onto Casey's ankles.
“I'm leaving some room; I don't want you breaking your legs,” he said while cuffing Casey's ankles. All Casey needed was to feel restrained, not completely immobile. He was given a foot's worth of slack, allowing him to walk if he needed to-not run, like the last time. Finished with binding Casey's body best he could, he brought each chain to the hooks on the wall, where they were laced through then locked together tight. More locks, more hooks, more locks... until everything looked ready. He looked back to Casey's face; the young man was now staring through the barred window across the room to the night sky, which was entirely dark now.
“If... if I break through--”
“You won't.”
Casey's nostrils flared as he shot his eyes back to Zeke. His stare was cold, irises made into a electron-thin ring instead of big and beautifully blue. “If. I. Do, you're ready. Right?”
Zeke paused then nodded, but didn't know if he meant it. He could say, 'Of course, the gun's locked and silver-loaded, no sweat,' but even if his boy-gone-animal broke through and charged him, he couldn't say if he'd have the guts to take him down. “Yea,” he said anyway, not wanting to argue. It was here that he swallowed, hard, then leaned in to put their foreheads together. “I'll be right outside. Try-to remember, there're more than just chains...”
“I can't p-promise anything,” Casey said. The crack in his voice made Zeke's eyes go wet.
“Right on the back porch. And yea... with the gun, 'k?” Zeke said. Casey nodded, making both of their heads move. Feeling sick but determined, Zeke reached his hand to both of Casey's and held them. “Gonna take care of you. I love you.”
“'Love you, too,” Casey replied in a whisper.
“I know.” Zeke tried to smile and gave Casey a tiny kiss. “You'll be fine. You'll see, when--”
The sudden jolt, growl and snapping of teeth from Casey made Zeke jerk away, almost landing on his back. He stayed upright and stared with widened eyes at Casey, who'd now turned away and gone into a fetal-position. His entire body quaked as he said, “G-Go,” in a voice Zeke didn't recognize. Nothing else was left to be done; Zeke got to his feet, went back to the door and opened it. The locks were put back into place, securing the garage for the night. The last step hurt him the most; going to the far end of the area, Zeke keyed open the box on the wall and flicked the last switch. The electricity coursing through the walls in a barely-audible hum made every hair on his body stand on end. The very air around him crackled and spat with danger, making him move away. The voltage was low, but it didn't matter; he didn't want to imagine Casey throwing himself against the wire-lined walls, windows and doors, hurting himself until he passed out... or worse.
There was nothing left for Zeke to do other than trudge back to the house and go inside to find his gun. He checked to make sure the three silver bullets were inside then returned to the back porch where four packs of cigarettes, his old decrepit couch and two pens full of white powder waited for him. The six-pack of Red Bull in the fridge would play backup if he needed it, but just the cool metal of the gun in his hand was eye-opening enough.