(no subject)
~*Happy Birthday, moit!*~
Oh, but it IS your birthday, I promise. :D Whee!! And your birthday is inspiring. Here be the fic I started ages ago but never finished. Perhaps it was simply meant to be your birthday. This fic is just YOUR BIRTHDAY. It got outta hand, probably gonna hafta post it as a two-parter.
I love you big bunches, of course. That should be a big, fat DUH. Cos' I wuv woo wodes.
*SQUISHY SQUEEZE OMFG*
Title: Watch (1/2)
Pairing: C/Z, C/Z/OMC
Rating: NC-17 (like PG would suffice, bah)
Warning(s): 'Moit's Birthday' should be warning enough, but... D/s, heavy kink, slight humiliation, voyeurism, toys, threesome, cross-dressing; all consensual.
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Following my 'Your Most Dangerous Curve' storyline, Zeke and Casey take to the public.
'Here we are,' Zeke thought as Casey held the door open for him. Their mutual nervousness was a part of the routine they'd planned, confirmation that they didn't need to hide behind closed doors... entirely. No big announcements would be shouted, no parades or anything that screamed, we like fucking each other. Just an extra-value meal at the local McDonald's, with a small thrill attached.
Zeke approached the counter, not bothering to look behind him and to the side. Casey had proved his obedience many, many times, always heeding Zeke's instructions to the letter. While Casey had been allowed to talk during the drive, he'd ceased conversation once past the intersection of Main and Holcomb. That was the rule for today: no talking, unless given permission. Though they'd done this in public before, it had been during casual strolls in the park or at Columbus' annual 'Fetish Flea'-nothing truly noticeable or extreme, especially in 'their crowd'. Right now, it was five exactly, neck-deep in the dinner rush. Three long lines had formed at each open register, with children shouting, mothers groaning and pajama-clad college kids crowding around. Zeke now glanced to Casey, who looked stoic and nervous at the same time. Though he'd known what he wanted to eat beforehand, it felt satisfying bringing Casey into the mix, show that there was an interesting dynamic going on between them to everyone there.
“Number three, no pickles, with a Coke,” Zeke told him sternly. “You're allowed to tell the worker what we want, nothing more.”
Casey made a lone nod and moved to get behind the elderly couple standing in the middle line. Satisfied, Zeke moseyed over to one of the booths that ran along the far side by the window and sat down. He busied himself with organizing his wallet during the wait, which ended up being surprisingly short; Casey arrived with their lunch and set the heavy tray down between them. Zeke gave a small nod as his 'thank you' before pulling it over to unwrap his sandwich. Casey, of course, waited dutifully for his own meal, a six piece chicken nugget meal, also with a Coke. Zeke knew the boy was hungry... but he was about to get hungrier when Zeke lifted the top bun and sniffed.
“I said, no pickles.” He turned a blank expression up at Casey, whose lips parted, eyelashes fluttering. “Did you tell them?”
Obviously conflicted, Casey reached over to the quarter-pounder's wrapper to show off the small slip which had been taped at the top. Sure enough, the words, 'QP - NO PICKLES' were inked upon it. Zeke felt a small amount of relief; it'd been the restaurant's screw-up, not Casey's. “Go return it, with the slip. Don't bother standing in line, just go right to the counter and wave somebody down. I'm fucking starved.”
Casey all but jumped to his feet, took the burger and strode off back to the counter. Now a little annoyed at this place's ineptness, Zeke let out a groaning sigh and put his back against the seat. A small but tense twinge in his neck made him scowl a little and give it a rub-down. In turning his head, Zeke caught the young man sitting in the booth across from them looking over but jerking his eyes away quick-as if he'd been staring.
'We've been spotted,' Zeke thought while his heart began to pound faster. Even if the boy didn't look over again during the course of their meal, the fact that he'd noticed at all was exciting. Zeke was tempted to let Casey know about it, but that would come later, after eating.
Casey returned, holding the sandwich out to Zeke. This time, he stayed standing while Zeke inspected it... 'Good boy,' Zeke thought with pride. Finding that the idiots in the kitchen had gotten it right this time, he nodded to Casey and motioned to the seat across from him. Casey made a quick, tiny smile, still keeping his eyes averted, then sat down to wait for Zeke's first bite to take his own.
The first few minutes were easygoing, letting Zeke enjoy the atmosphere. The beeping and commotion from the kitchens melded with babbling customers and kids, a 'Jackson 5' song piped in from the ceiling speakers... not exactly nirvana, but it meant they were out in the world as they were. Out here, a keen-eyed customer or worker could catch what was going on between them, which was exactly what they wanted. Tugging Casey around with a chain attached to his collar would be crass-it was all about subtleties and slow-turning gears moving them along.
“When we get outta here, we'll get the groceries done. You finished the list, right?” Zeke glanced at Casey, who nodded slowly. “Good. Be sure to get everything you need for the quiche I asked for. Love your quiche.”
Again, Casey stayed wordless but wore a sweet smile, emoting his 'thanks' for the compliment enough. As he wasn't a cold, unkind person, Zeke smiled back, reached across the table and gave Casey an almost-invisible brush over the top of his hand.
He didn't know why he'd glanced across the aisle until he saw the same customer outright staring at them, so deeply he didn't notice Zeke staring back. This intense level of curiosity made Zeke frown and sit straighter. The sandy-blond haired, admittedly attractive young man finally noticed Zeke's noticing just in time to see Zeke raising his eyebrows. Zeke swore he saw him jolt the tiniest bit before jerking his gaze away so fast, it'd probably given him whiplash. They had to be careful now; while this guy didn't look as tall as Zeke or have bulging muscles, he looked like he could hold his own in a fight. The worn plaid flannel shirt's sleeves were rolled up, almost all the front buttons undone to show off the tight white tee he wore underneath. His jeans weren't designer and had signs of use through faded patches around the pockets, knees and at the ankles. 'A working boy,' Zeke surmised at the same time he asked, “Like what ya see?”
Casey blinked fast and followed Zeke's gaze. Now being watched by the BOTH of them, the young man stopped munching on his fries while intentionally keeping his eyes dead ahead. The blush setting in was clear, making Zeke wonder if he was embarrassed for looking nosy... or if he did enjoy what was going on. Either way, there was satisfaction. When Zeke finally turned away, he found Casey looking at him with mild confusion-lips parted as if ready to break the day's rules. “Shh,” Zeke hushed gently. “He's just checking us out.”
“'Scuse me?”
With a smirk, Zeke looked across the aisle at the guy, who'd gone from blushing insecurity to cold-almost angry. “Yea?”
“I thought I heard you say that I was 'checking you out',” he said.
“You heard right,” Zeke replied. “Well... maybe not 'us'. Which one? Me, or him?”
The young man sniffed, shook his head briskly and ate the last bite of his sandwich. “Whatever.”
Zeke wasn't about to leave it at such a flippant reply. “Just curiosity?”
“If someone flaunts it, then yea-you get some attention,” was the guy's reply. He suddenly didn't seem as angry, nor confrontational. Zeke sensed that he knew more, knew something. Zeke himself grew curious and deliberately relaxed, hoping to ease any tension in that alone.
“What's your name?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“Name-you got one, right?”
A handful of seconds passed before the young man blinked, took a breath and said, “Jamie.”
“Mmm. Jamie. That's a nice name. Androgynous, like this one's.” Zeke motioned to Casey, who watched the exchange, still and quiet. “His is Casey-but I call him 'boy'.”
Jamie flicked his eyes between the two before settling back on Zeke. “Yours?”
“Zeke.”
“'K. Nice... to meet you, I guess,” Jamie said before looking away quick. He still had a large pile of fries to get through, assuring a few more minutes to let them all get 'acquainted'... something Zeke craved, at the moment. Whether it was to offer confusion or get answers from Jamie remained to be seen.
“Nice to meet you,” Zeke returned. He turned to put his back to the wall, legs outstretched over the booth's seat to face Jamie. “I gotta say... you're pretty in tune with your surroundings.”
“Whattaya mean?” Jamie asked in a dry voice.
“You noticed us right off. Didn't you?”
“Kinda hard not to.”
A wry chuckle danced over Zeke's lips. “Some might get suspicious, yea. But they don't know. I get the feeling you do.”
“Look, I just... came here to eat. I had a hard-as-hell day, it's gotta be ten-thousand degrees out there and on a roof? I'm glad I gave you what you wanted, congrats, have a great day,” Jamie said in a rush.
Zeke considered his next move. Christ, he wanted to turn this into something-just what, he didn't know yet. “Yea, we're showing off. That was our goal. So thanks-it's nice that someone knew what was going on,” he said.
“Like I said, congrats.”
“Mmm.” Zeke hummed and looked down on his tray. He was hungry, but not for the fries he had left. “Can I ask you somethin'?”
“Free country,” Jamie said in a blank voice.
“If we're talking curious, just how curious are we?” Zeke asked just as a large family passed down the aisle, screaming toddler and all.
“Huh?” Jamie said.
Groaning, Zeke moved to the end of the seat and stood. “Mind if I come over there?”
Jamie eyed him warily but eventually raised his eyebrows and made a one-shouldered shrug. Zeke clucked his tongue and stepped over-the movement he caught from their booth made him stop and turn. “I didn't say 'mind if WE come over', did I?” he told Casey, who was halfway to a stand. The boy swallowed, sank back down and sat in still silence. After a moment of staring him down, Zeke turned back to Jamie, who kept darting his eyes from Zeke to his charge. Now sitting in the seat across from their new 'friend', Zeke smiled. “Don't mind him. He sometimes forgets that he only comes when he's called.”
“It's... okay,” Jamie replied hesitantly, giving Zeke an odd look.
“Mmm. So. You're a roofer?”
“Just-construction and shit in general.”
“Cool.”
“What do you do?”
Zeke made a musical chuckle. “I'm a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Trust-fund baby,” he said.
“Hah. Some get the breaks, I guess,” Jamie muttered.
“How do you let off steam at the end of the day?” Zeke asked.
A pause followed; Jamie finally let a lone, scoffing chuckle out. “Dude, I... like I said, rough day. When I'm done with the chow, I'm heading home to chill,” he said.
“Watch TV?”
“Probably.”
“Go online?”
“I... guess?”
“Click on a few dominance-submission links and really blow off that 'steam'?”
Jamie's expression went stony. “You're a nosy fucker, huh?”
“You do, though. I can tell,” Zeke said.
“I ain't gay. 'K? I'm not an asshole about it to people who ARE, but--”
“I never said you were,” Zeke interrupted. “Sexual imagery is sexual imagery. Hell, you might click links for guy-girl shit... or girl-girl. A lotta guys are into that.”
“God, okay...” Jamie made an exasperated-sounding laugh and shook his head. “...As if I planned on talking to a complete stranger about their flogging-fetish. C'mon...”
“Wow. Specific.” Zeke put his arms up, stretching them out along the back of the seat. “The only way you'd know about that was if you were in-to it.”
Jamie's small, wry smile faded. “I'm not-IN-to anything.”
“And you're not gay.”
“S'right.”
“But you'd love to fuck a boy.” Zeke had always been brash and blunt, but saying this surprised even him. If he was wrong, if Jamie just got his kicks on the darker side of life for a minute before walking away from his computer in disgust, he could reply with a fist to Zeke's face. So it pleased Zeke to no end when all Jamie could do was stare blankly at him, lips parted the smallest bit. Seeing his chance, Zeke continued, “We've put ads in the paper for a 'good time', and we've only hit the jackpot once. That was a long, long time ago.”
“Oh... 'kay,” Jamie said; a tiny tremble was in the words, barely noticeable. Zeke caught it instantly, of course.
“You can give me a broken jaw for my saying this, but-you fit pretty damned good in what we ask for in the Advocate,” Zeke said. “Interested?”
Jamie looked like a rabbit in a trap; a mix of confusion, panic and insecurity was in his face. “I-you don't even fuckin' know me,” he said.
“I'm good at reading people, though.”
“Yea?”
“Mmhmm.”
“What...” Jamie glanced to Casey, who was staring at the table. “...What's he say about this?”
“Whatever I say.”
“Yea?” Jamie shook his head slowly. “This shit can go down a really bad street. I know that much. For all I know, his whole body from neck to toe can be covered in bruises he didn't want.”
Sighing, Zeke turned to look at Casey. “Hey-boy, come over here,” he said. With the usual obedience, Casey made a small nod, stood and stepped over. Zeke motioned to Jamie's side. “Next to Jamie, here.”
Jamie eyed Casey with uncertainty but slid over to give him room. Casey took the seat and looked to Zeke for any signals, but Zeke turned his attention back to their new friend. “You've obviously done some 'homework' here, am I right?”
“Maybe,” Jamie replied in a casual tone. “Doesn't mean I'm gagging for it, enough to go with two strangers back to their place. I'd like to keep BOTH of my kidneys, thanks.”
Zeke chuckled. “I already said I'm a trust-fund baby. There's enough in the bank to tempt you into selling me an organ or five. That's neither here nor there...” Zeke leaned back to stretch, pulling an arm behind his head to tug the muscles tight. “This boy here-he may look all wide-eyed innocence and whisper-quiet, but he's a dirty little bitch.”
Jamie's eyes fluttered, hummingbird speed. This wasn't normal conversation to him; every word and comment was going to take him off-guard, something Zeke rather enjoyed. It was all new, an introduction to a world the young man had probably ached to take part in. Zeke sighed and looked to Casey. “Are you a dirty little bitch, boy?” he asked in a hushed voice. Casey's eyes slid between them before he made a slow, sure nod. Zeke grinned. “See?”
“That's nice. What's it gotta do with me?” Jamie asked in an urgent hiss.
“Whatever you want it to do with and for you. We're dying to have a voyeur involved, or more. 'Depends on your willingness,” Zeke said.
“I...” Jamie started but halted immediately. The conflict in his reddened face was heavy.
“We're done eating-meet us outside by the cherry-striped car in the side-lot. If you're not out before I'm done with a cig, we'll take it as a no.” Zeke motioned behind him then stood. “Boy, clear the table and let's go have a smoke.”
Casey did as he was told, of course, while Zeke brought out his cigarettes. With one last smile and wink to Jamie, Zeke sauntered away, Casey following close. Once outside, Zeke took a deep breath. “He's hooked, fuckin' hooked--”
“Sir, may I speak?” Casey said in an urgent voice, jogging fast to match Zeke's long strides.
“At ease.”
'At ease' was Casey's ticket to be as free as he wanted to be in what he said, and how he said it; he took advantage of it now, speeding up and walking in quick steps backwards to stay in front of Zeke, saying, “Are you serious? We're... taking him home with us?”
“If he comes out here and says 'yes', yea,” Zeke said. He reached the GTO, pulled out his cigarettes and popped one in his lips. Before lighting it, he gave the restaurant a long stare. “'Hope he does. Things have been a bit too vanilla lately.”
“Vanilla?”
Zeke cocked an eyebrow at Casey as he lit his smoke. “Same ol' shit, different day lately. Not your fault... entirely,” he said. Casey bit his lip, obviously insecure; he never liked criticism, however well he'd take it. For a fleeting moment, Zeke felt guilty in his being cold to the boy. He sighed, raised his hand to Casey's cheek and ran his thumb over it. “You've been collared for three months, perfectly trained and none of our ads get answered; we haven't had a real, daring outlet yet. There are the parties and shit, but-this is different. Consider what I did 'impulse-shopping'.”
A tiny grin tugged at one corner of Casey's lips, but he turned away to stare at the rows of cars lining the strip mall behind the restaurant. “It was... a little dangerous, though,” he replied eventually, voice soft, almost as if he feared that he was speaking TOO freely. “He could've gotten pissed that you even implied that he'd--”
“But he didn't. Even if he doesn't come out here, he wants to. He'd just be shoving himself in the closet even--” Zeke stopped mid-sentence in seeing the door they'd come out of opening. Seeing Jamie walking out with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking for cars before jogging across the drive-thru lane made Zeke stand straight. “At attention,” he spat at Casey, ending the boy's speech-freedom.
Jamie now stared at them, his expression blank. For all Zeke knew, he could be coming out to tell them, “Sorry to make you wait, but I'm not interested; thanks, though.” Zeke took a heavy drag, noticing that he'd not even gotten halfway through the cigarette. This boy wanted in, he was sure of it.
Now in front of the pair, Jamie also crossed his arms and sniffed. “I don't wanna actually DO anything. 'K? Or... whatever, I mean 'join in' or whatever.” He seemed flustered, like an awkward senior boy stammering out his prom-proposal to the most popular girl in school.
“You don't gotta do shit,” Zeke said.
“Yea, well... doing anything's enough,” Jamie replied. He glanced away, huffed then turned back to give Zeke a hard, unwavering gaze. “But I ain't stupid. I'm gonna head back to my apartment, write your address down and stick it by my computer, so when the cops come looking for evidence they'll know where I was last.”
The boy was smart; Zeke respected him ten-fold for it. “Sounds fine by me. Go ahead and tell your roomie, even, so--”
“I don't got one. And like hell I'm telling any-fucking-one where I'm going or what I'm doing,” Jamie interrupted. Uncertainty crossed his features again as he leaned in to say, “I ain't gay. There's a girl I've been wanting to date, word is she wants the same thing... I ain't chancing that. This IS anonymous, right?”
“Just a quick blip on the radar, yea,” Zeke said. “I promise, no one's putting up signs on the highway advertising whatever happens.”
Jamie nodded slowly. “'K. So, where-your place?”
“Twenty Bell Avenue, right off of Chestnut,” Zeke said.
“I know where that is.” Jamie brought his keys out of his pocket and looked to the other end of the lot. “I... I'm gonna drop by my place then I'll... head over. I'll aim for... eight-thirty-ish.”
“Sounds good. See ya in a bit,” Zeke said. With one last nod and shaky breath, Jamie turned away to walk to his car. Zeke gave Casey the command to get into the passenger seat with a quick nod upward then opened the driver's side door. He'd gotten one foot in when he stopped, stood and called, “Jamie-hold up.”
The young man stopped, turned then walked back. Zeke waved him in, making it clear that he needed to say something he couldn't shout out. When Jamie was less than a foot away, Zeke asked, “How do you like your boys?”
“Boys? I'm not ga--”
“Yea, I know, fine, how would you like THIS boy?”
Jamie glanced into the car where Casey sat. His lips parted and he stared a moment before clearing his throat and muttering, “Does... I like girls, y'know, so... he can be...”
“I get it. See ya in a bit,” Zeke said abruptly, winking and getting into the car.
~*~
Knowing the fridge held one lone beer, there'd been a quick stop at the package store for the best brew money could buy. A bottle of wine had also been plucked from the shelf, though Zeke didn't know if they'd actually uncork it. To him, there was a celebratory nature to tonight's events, but who knew if Jamie would end up coming-if he'd get cold feet?
'Like hell,' Zeke thought as he popped open his bottle of Black Tuesday and slammed back his first gulp. The rich brew gave a wonderful tingle-burn down his throat into his gut. It'd give him the guts to get through the night with their new friend. However cocky and confident he was, having a beer beforehand gave him the 'Dutch Courage' he needed. He'd space them out, however; nothing was more unappealing than a slurring, drunken idiot performing sex acts, especially with an outsider looking on.
With the clock reading 7:30, Zeke shuffled out of the kitchen into the hall then climbed up to the second floor. The bedroom door was cracked open; he gave it a lone knock then entered. He smiled wide in finding his obedient, freshly-showered boy sitting on the bed, naked and waiting patiently. His damp hair was starting to curl at his temples, the strands going this way and that as it dried. Zeke smiled and passed by to get to the closet.
“Hmm,” he hummed aloud in sorting through the choices. There'd been many times Zeke had made a beautiful, pretty doll out of his boy, but he went past the usual items he'd choose. Tonight was different, special, a special occasion, which urged him on to the far end of the closet's rail where two items rested on hangers, still protected by tough plastic wrapping. Zeke knew which one he wanted tonight, and his hand almost trembled in taking up the hanger, lavender fabric wrapped around it.
He hadn't planned on spending more than five-hundred dollars on one piece of lingerie the night he'd trawled the internet, looking for something 'interesting', but that's what he'd ended up doing. Nancy Meyer's website had listed Carine Gilson as one of their product lines, which led Zeke to the gorgeous, lavender-and-pale-pink, lacy and very sheer slip. It would be practically invisible on a body, but its presence sent a clear message: I can make him beautiful, it'd whispered to Zeke through the computer screen, and without another thought Zeke had clicked 'Buy', for both the slip and matching panty and paid for expedited shipping to boot. He hadn't needed to; it'd been in the closet for almost two months now, never used. Smiling, he brought it out with a gentle hand, uncovered it and looked to Casey, who was staring at the item with wide eyes.
“Let's get you ready,” Zeke said.
The boy nodded and followed Zeke across the hall. They entered the bathroom together, where Zeke hung the slip on the hanger on the door. No way was this piece going anywhere near the shower or floor.
First things first: with Casey standing at attention by the sink, Zeke opened the small closet to his right and rifled around a moment. Their favorite body-butter, honey-scented and all-natural, was brought out. Zeke uncapped it and dug out a good-sized dollop, which he rubbed smoothly in his hands before bringing them to Casey's neck and shoulders. A deep massage was given; Zeke rubbed in hard, slow slides over the skin, right up to Casey's nape and under his ears. Even Casey's face was smoothed over with Zeke using his thumbs to give his cheeks, forehead and chin a serving of the cream. He made his work as even and calculated as possible, gazing at every pore he stimulated. Sometimes it was difficult doing this without wanting to grab Casey up and ravage him immediately. But sometimes, like now, Zeke was more interested in the prep-process, and how Casey's body needed to be treated. There'd be plenty of time to undo all of his hard work later.
One arm was raised up to hold and drag his hands over and down; more cream, then the other arm. “Turn around,” he told Casey, who did as instructed. Zeke took hold of both shoulders and pulled them back slowly; the muscles and bone curved and tugged against his hold, but the beautiful body obeyed Zeke perfectly. Zeke moved back down to Casey's wrists and held them together tight in one hand, the other pushing Casey's back with its heel. Casey made a small, low grunt as he was stretched out. Zeke kept the position a moment before letting go; Casey straightened as Zeke next took hold of his neck and hair. He pulled Casey's head back very, very slowly by his bangs, making him face the ceiling. “Deep breath,” Zeke said softly. Casey's chest puffed out, one, two, three, then sank back down, a heavy exhalation coming out slow and long. After a few sessions of inhale-exhale, Zeke let go and slid his arms underneath Casey's.
It was odd how mechanical it could get. Zeke didn't feel any urge to shove Casey down and give in to lust as he pressed Casey's back to his chest, both of them bare and warm. Zeke clenched his hands tight over Casey's shoulders then slid them down his chest, his fingers stretched out to work the muscles with the palms and heels. Both of them grunted through the process of Zeke's bruising-but-not motions, straight down to the line of Casey's groin and thighs. The half-hard cock between those thighs went ignored, Zeke's only intentions lying in making him ready. After a few minutes of this, Zeke moved back. “Turn to the wall.”
Again, Casey complied. He flattened his hands over the beige wallpapered surface and stayed still, letting Zeke hold his hips tight. Now, Zeke was indeed sorely tempted. He fought away from the usual urgency to take hold of the boy's ass with both hands, one on either side. This part took the most treatment preparation-wise; the skin was a deep pink after only a few grabs, twists and hard massages. Zeke braced his fingers where ass met thigh below and swept his thumbs over the round swells, then up again to hold onto Casey tight. His wrists ached with the pressure he applied, Casey himself showing signs of tension and slight pain in a string of gasping-grunts.
Finally, Zeke felt the work there was done. “Turn around again,” he said. Once Casey's back was to the wall, Zeke bent down, took Casey's knee and lifted the leg up. It bent and pressed against Casey's stomach; Zeke pushed it in closer, until Casey's knee was close to his collarbone. Back, forth, smooth, tight, slow; the action was repeated with the other leg until Zeke was confident that Casey's body had been thoroughly stretched and made ready. Smiling, Zeke ended the process in taking Casey's face in his hands and giving him a long, sweet kiss. After that, he bent away, smacked his lips and looked Casey in the eye. “Purple and pink to match. Get pretty.”
~*~
Part Deux
~*~
Oh, but it IS your birthday, I promise. :D Whee!! And your birthday is inspiring. Here be the fic I started ages ago but never finished. Perhaps it was simply meant to be your birthday. This fic is just YOUR BIRTHDAY. It got outta hand, probably gonna hafta post it as a two-parter.
I love you big bunches, of course. That should be a big, fat DUH. Cos' I wuv woo wodes.
*SQUISHY SQUEEZE OMFG*
Title: Watch (1/2)
Pairing: C/Z, C/Z/OMC
Rating: NC-17 (like PG would suffice, bah)
Warning(s): 'Moit's Birthday' should be warning enough, but... D/s, heavy kink, slight humiliation, voyeurism, toys, threesome, cross-dressing; all consensual.
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Following my 'Your Most Dangerous Curve' storyline, Zeke and Casey take to the public.
'Here we are,' Zeke thought as Casey held the door open for him. Their mutual nervousness was a part of the routine they'd planned, confirmation that they didn't need to hide behind closed doors... entirely. No big announcements would be shouted, no parades or anything that screamed, we like fucking each other. Just an extra-value meal at the local McDonald's, with a small thrill attached.
Zeke approached the counter, not bothering to look behind him and to the side. Casey had proved his obedience many, many times, always heeding Zeke's instructions to the letter. While Casey had been allowed to talk during the drive, he'd ceased conversation once past the intersection of Main and Holcomb. That was the rule for today: no talking, unless given permission. Though they'd done this in public before, it had been during casual strolls in the park or at Columbus' annual 'Fetish Flea'-nothing truly noticeable or extreme, especially in 'their crowd'. Right now, it was five exactly, neck-deep in the dinner rush. Three long lines had formed at each open register, with children shouting, mothers groaning and pajama-clad college kids crowding around. Zeke now glanced to Casey, who looked stoic and nervous at the same time. Though he'd known what he wanted to eat beforehand, it felt satisfying bringing Casey into the mix, show that there was an interesting dynamic going on between them to everyone there.
“Number three, no pickles, with a Coke,” Zeke told him sternly. “You're allowed to tell the worker what we want, nothing more.”
Casey made a lone nod and moved to get behind the elderly couple standing in the middle line. Satisfied, Zeke moseyed over to one of the booths that ran along the far side by the window and sat down. He busied himself with organizing his wallet during the wait, which ended up being surprisingly short; Casey arrived with their lunch and set the heavy tray down between them. Zeke gave a small nod as his 'thank you' before pulling it over to unwrap his sandwich. Casey, of course, waited dutifully for his own meal, a six piece chicken nugget meal, also with a Coke. Zeke knew the boy was hungry... but he was about to get hungrier when Zeke lifted the top bun and sniffed.
“I said, no pickles.” He turned a blank expression up at Casey, whose lips parted, eyelashes fluttering. “Did you tell them?”
Obviously conflicted, Casey reached over to the quarter-pounder's wrapper to show off the small slip which had been taped at the top. Sure enough, the words, 'QP - NO PICKLES' were inked upon it. Zeke felt a small amount of relief; it'd been the restaurant's screw-up, not Casey's. “Go return it, with the slip. Don't bother standing in line, just go right to the counter and wave somebody down. I'm fucking starved.”
Casey all but jumped to his feet, took the burger and strode off back to the counter. Now a little annoyed at this place's ineptness, Zeke let out a groaning sigh and put his back against the seat. A small but tense twinge in his neck made him scowl a little and give it a rub-down. In turning his head, Zeke caught the young man sitting in the booth across from them looking over but jerking his eyes away quick-as if he'd been staring.
'We've been spotted,' Zeke thought while his heart began to pound faster. Even if the boy didn't look over again during the course of their meal, the fact that he'd noticed at all was exciting. Zeke was tempted to let Casey know about it, but that would come later, after eating.
Casey returned, holding the sandwich out to Zeke. This time, he stayed standing while Zeke inspected it... 'Good boy,' Zeke thought with pride. Finding that the idiots in the kitchen had gotten it right this time, he nodded to Casey and motioned to the seat across from him. Casey made a quick, tiny smile, still keeping his eyes averted, then sat down to wait for Zeke's first bite to take his own.
The first few minutes were easygoing, letting Zeke enjoy the atmosphere. The beeping and commotion from the kitchens melded with babbling customers and kids, a 'Jackson 5' song piped in from the ceiling speakers... not exactly nirvana, but it meant they were out in the world as they were. Out here, a keen-eyed customer or worker could catch what was going on between them, which was exactly what they wanted. Tugging Casey around with a chain attached to his collar would be crass-it was all about subtleties and slow-turning gears moving them along.
“When we get outta here, we'll get the groceries done. You finished the list, right?” Zeke glanced at Casey, who nodded slowly. “Good. Be sure to get everything you need for the quiche I asked for. Love your quiche.”
Again, Casey stayed wordless but wore a sweet smile, emoting his 'thanks' for the compliment enough. As he wasn't a cold, unkind person, Zeke smiled back, reached across the table and gave Casey an almost-invisible brush over the top of his hand.
He didn't know why he'd glanced across the aisle until he saw the same customer outright staring at them, so deeply he didn't notice Zeke staring back. This intense level of curiosity made Zeke frown and sit straighter. The sandy-blond haired, admittedly attractive young man finally noticed Zeke's noticing just in time to see Zeke raising his eyebrows. Zeke swore he saw him jolt the tiniest bit before jerking his gaze away so fast, it'd probably given him whiplash. They had to be careful now; while this guy didn't look as tall as Zeke or have bulging muscles, he looked like he could hold his own in a fight. The worn plaid flannel shirt's sleeves were rolled up, almost all the front buttons undone to show off the tight white tee he wore underneath. His jeans weren't designer and had signs of use through faded patches around the pockets, knees and at the ankles. 'A working boy,' Zeke surmised at the same time he asked, “Like what ya see?”
Casey blinked fast and followed Zeke's gaze. Now being watched by the BOTH of them, the young man stopped munching on his fries while intentionally keeping his eyes dead ahead. The blush setting in was clear, making Zeke wonder if he was embarrassed for looking nosy... or if he did enjoy what was going on. Either way, there was satisfaction. When Zeke finally turned away, he found Casey looking at him with mild confusion-lips parted as if ready to break the day's rules. “Shh,” Zeke hushed gently. “He's just checking us out.”
“'Scuse me?”
With a smirk, Zeke looked across the aisle at the guy, who'd gone from blushing insecurity to cold-almost angry. “Yea?”
“I thought I heard you say that I was 'checking you out',” he said.
“You heard right,” Zeke replied. “Well... maybe not 'us'. Which one? Me, or him?”
The young man sniffed, shook his head briskly and ate the last bite of his sandwich. “Whatever.”
Zeke wasn't about to leave it at such a flippant reply. “Just curiosity?”
“If someone flaunts it, then yea-you get some attention,” was the guy's reply. He suddenly didn't seem as angry, nor confrontational. Zeke sensed that he knew more, knew something. Zeke himself grew curious and deliberately relaxed, hoping to ease any tension in that alone.
“What's your name?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“Name-you got one, right?”
A handful of seconds passed before the young man blinked, took a breath and said, “Jamie.”
“Mmm. Jamie. That's a nice name. Androgynous, like this one's.” Zeke motioned to Casey, who watched the exchange, still and quiet. “His is Casey-but I call him 'boy'.”
Jamie flicked his eyes between the two before settling back on Zeke. “Yours?”
“Zeke.”
“'K. Nice... to meet you, I guess,” Jamie said before looking away quick. He still had a large pile of fries to get through, assuring a few more minutes to let them all get 'acquainted'... something Zeke craved, at the moment. Whether it was to offer confusion or get answers from Jamie remained to be seen.
“Nice to meet you,” Zeke returned. He turned to put his back to the wall, legs outstretched over the booth's seat to face Jamie. “I gotta say... you're pretty in tune with your surroundings.”
“Whattaya mean?” Jamie asked in a dry voice.
“You noticed us right off. Didn't you?”
“Kinda hard not to.”
A wry chuckle danced over Zeke's lips. “Some might get suspicious, yea. But they don't know. I get the feeling you do.”
“Look, I just... came here to eat. I had a hard-as-hell day, it's gotta be ten-thousand degrees out there and on a roof? I'm glad I gave you what you wanted, congrats, have a great day,” Jamie said in a rush.
Zeke considered his next move. Christ, he wanted to turn this into something-just what, he didn't know yet. “Yea, we're showing off. That was our goal. So thanks-it's nice that someone knew what was going on,” he said.
“Like I said, congrats.”
“Mmm.” Zeke hummed and looked down on his tray. He was hungry, but not for the fries he had left. “Can I ask you somethin'?”
“Free country,” Jamie said in a blank voice.
“If we're talking curious, just how curious are we?” Zeke asked just as a large family passed down the aisle, screaming toddler and all.
“Huh?” Jamie said.
Groaning, Zeke moved to the end of the seat and stood. “Mind if I come over there?”
Jamie eyed him warily but eventually raised his eyebrows and made a one-shouldered shrug. Zeke clucked his tongue and stepped over-the movement he caught from their booth made him stop and turn. “I didn't say 'mind if WE come over', did I?” he told Casey, who was halfway to a stand. The boy swallowed, sank back down and sat in still silence. After a moment of staring him down, Zeke turned back to Jamie, who kept darting his eyes from Zeke to his charge. Now sitting in the seat across from their new 'friend', Zeke smiled. “Don't mind him. He sometimes forgets that he only comes when he's called.”
“It's... okay,” Jamie replied hesitantly, giving Zeke an odd look.
“Mmm. So. You're a roofer?”
“Just-construction and shit in general.”
“Cool.”
“What do you do?”
Zeke made a musical chuckle. “I'm a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Trust-fund baby,” he said.
“Hah. Some get the breaks, I guess,” Jamie muttered.
“How do you let off steam at the end of the day?” Zeke asked.
A pause followed; Jamie finally let a lone, scoffing chuckle out. “Dude, I... like I said, rough day. When I'm done with the chow, I'm heading home to chill,” he said.
“Watch TV?”
“Probably.”
“Go online?”
“I... guess?”
“Click on a few dominance-submission links and really blow off that 'steam'?”
Jamie's expression went stony. “You're a nosy fucker, huh?”
“You do, though. I can tell,” Zeke said.
“I ain't gay. 'K? I'm not an asshole about it to people who ARE, but--”
“I never said you were,” Zeke interrupted. “Sexual imagery is sexual imagery. Hell, you might click links for guy-girl shit... or girl-girl. A lotta guys are into that.”
“God, okay...” Jamie made an exasperated-sounding laugh and shook his head. “...As if I planned on talking to a complete stranger about their flogging-fetish. C'mon...”
“Wow. Specific.” Zeke put his arms up, stretching them out along the back of the seat. “The only way you'd know about that was if you were in-to it.”
Jamie's small, wry smile faded. “I'm not-IN-to anything.”
“And you're not gay.”
“S'right.”
“But you'd love to fuck a boy.” Zeke had always been brash and blunt, but saying this surprised even him. If he was wrong, if Jamie just got his kicks on the darker side of life for a minute before walking away from his computer in disgust, he could reply with a fist to Zeke's face. So it pleased Zeke to no end when all Jamie could do was stare blankly at him, lips parted the smallest bit. Seeing his chance, Zeke continued, “We've put ads in the paper for a 'good time', and we've only hit the jackpot once. That was a long, long time ago.”
“Oh... 'kay,” Jamie said; a tiny tremble was in the words, barely noticeable. Zeke caught it instantly, of course.
“You can give me a broken jaw for my saying this, but-you fit pretty damned good in what we ask for in the Advocate,” Zeke said. “Interested?”
Jamie looked like a rabbit in a trap; a mix of confusion, panic and insecurity was in his face. “I-you don't even fuckin' know me,” he said.
“I'm good at reading people, though.”
“Yea?”
“Mmhmm.”
“What...” Jamie glanced to Casey, who was staring at the table. “...What's he say about this?”
“Whatever I say.”
“Yea?” Jamie shook his head slowly. “This shit can go down a really bad street. I know that much. For all I know, his whole body from neck to toe can be covered in bruises he didn't want.”
Sighing, Zeke turned to look at Casey. “Hey-boy, come over here,” he said. With the usual obedience, Casey made a small nod, stood and stepped over. Zeke motioned to Jamie's side. “Next to Jamie, here.”
Jamie eyed Casey with uncertainty but slid over to give him room. Casey took the seat and looked to Zeke for any signals, but Zeke turned his attention back to their new friend. “You've obviously done some 'homework' here, am I right?”
“Maybe,” Jamie replied in a casual tone. “Doesn't mean I'm gagging for it, enough to go with two strangers back to their place. I'd like to keep BOTH of my kidneys, thanks.”
Zeke chuckled. “I already said I'm a trust-fund baby. There's enough in the bank to tempt you into selling me an organ or five. That's neither here nor there...” Zeke leaned back to stretch, pulling an arm behind his head to tug the muscles tight. “This boy here-he may look all wide-eyed innocence and whisper-quiet, but he's a dirty little bitch.”
Jamie's eyes fluttered, hummingbird speed. This wasn't normal conversation to him; every word and comment was going to take him off-guard, something Zeke rather enjoyed. It was all new, an introduction to a world the young man had probably ached to take part in. Zeke sighed and looked to Casey. “Are you a dirty little bitch, boy?” he asked in a hushed voice. Casey's eyes slid between them before he made a slow, sure nod. Zeke grinned. “See?”
“That's nice. What's it gotta do with me?” Jamie asked in an urgent hiss.
“Whatever you want it to do with and for you. We're dying to have a voyeur involved, or more. 'Depends on your willingness,” Zeke said.
“I...” Jamie started but halted immediately. The conflict in his reddened face was heavy.
“We're done eating-meet us outside by the cherry-striped car in the side-lot. If you're not out before I'm done with a cig, we'll take it as a no.” Zeke motioned behind him then stood. “Boy, clear the table and let's go have a smoke.”
Casey did as he was told, of course, while Zeke brought out his cigarettes. With one last smile and wink to Jamie, Zeke sauntered away, Casey following close. Once outside, Zeke took a deep breath. “He's hooked, fuckin' hooked--”
“Sir, may I speak?” Casey said in an urgent voice, jogging fast to match Zeke's long strides.
“At ease.”
'At ease' was Casey's ticket to be as free as he wanted to be in what he said, and how he said it; he took advantage of it now, speeding up and walking in quick steps backwards to stay in front of Zeke, saying, “Are you serious? We're... taking him home with us?”
“If he comes out here and says 'yes', yea,” Zeke said. He reached the GTO, pulled out his cigarettes and popped one in his lips. Before lighting it, he gave the restaurant a long stare. “'Hope he does. Things have been a bit too vanilla lately.”
“Vanilla?”
Zeke cocked an eyebrow at Casey as he lit his smoke. “Same ol' shit, different day lately. Not your fault... entirely,” he said. Casey bit his lip, obviously insecure; he never liked criticism, however well he'd take it. For a fleeting moment, Zeke felt guilty in his being cold to the boy. He sighed, raised his hand to Casey's cheek and ran his thumb over it. “You've been collared for three months, perfectly trained and none of our ads get answered; we haven't had a real, daring outlet yet. There are the parties and shit, but-this is different. Consider what I did 'impulse-shopping'.”
A tiny grin tugged at one corner of Casey's lips, but he turned away to stare at the rows of cars lining the strip mall behind the restaurant. “It was... a little dangerous, though,” he replied eventually, voice soft, almost as if he feared that he was speaking TOO freely. “He could've gotten pissed that you even implied that he'd--”
“But he didn't. Even if he doesn't come out here, he wants to. He'd just be shoving himself in the closet even--” Zeke stopped mid-sentence in seeing the door they'd come out of opening. Seeing Jamie walking out with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking for cars before jogging across the drive-thru lane made Zeke stand straight. “At attention,” he spat at Casey, ending the boy's speech-freedom.
Jamie now stared at them, his expression blank. For all Zeke knew, he could be coming out to tell them, “Sorry to make you wait, but I'm not interested; thanks, though.” Zeke took a heavy drag, noticing that he'd not even gotten halfway through the cigarette. This boy wanted in, he was sure of it.
Now in front of the pair, Jamie also crossed his arms and sniffed. “I don't wanna actually DO anything. 'K? Or... whatever, I mean 'join in' or whatever.” He seemed flustered, like an awkward senior boy stammering out his prom-proposal to the most popular girl in school.
“You don't gotta do shit,” Zeke said.
“Yea, well... doing anything's enough,” Jamie replied. He glanced away, huffed then turned back to give Zeke a hard, unwavering gaze. “But I ain't stupid. I'm gonna head back to my apartment, write your address down and stick it by my computer, so when the cops come looking for evidence they'll know where I was last.”
The boy was smart; Zeke respected him ten-fold for it. “Sounds fine by me. Go ahead and tell your roomie, even, so--”
“I don't got one. And like hell I'm telling any-fucking-one where I'm going or what I'm doing,” Jamie interrupted. Uncertainty crossed his features again as he leaned in to say, “I ain't gay. There's a girl I've been wanting to date, word is she wants the same thing... I ain't chancing that. This IS anonymous, right?”
“Just a quick blip on the radar, yea,” Zeke said. “I promise, no one's putting up signs on the highway advertising whatever happens.”
Jamie nodded slowly. “'K. So, where-your place?”
“Twenty Bell Avenue, right off of Chestnut,” Zeke said.
“I know where that is.” Jamie brought his keys out of his pocket and looked to the other end of the lot. “I... I'm gonna drop by my place then I'll... head over. I'll aim for... eight-thirty-ish.”
“Sounds good. See ya in a bit,” Zeke said. With one last nod and shaky breath, Jamie turned away to walk to his car. Zeke gave Casey the command to get into the passenger seat with a quick nod upward then opened the driver's side door. He'd gotten one foot in when he stopped, stood and called, “Jamie-hold up.”
The young man stopped, turned then walked back. Zeke waved him in, making it clear that he needed to say something he couldn't shout out. When Jamie was less than a foot away, Zeke asked, “How do you like your boys?”
“Boys? I'm not ga--”
“Yea, I know, fine, how would you like THIS boy?”
Jamie glanced into the car where Casey sat. His lips parted and he stared a moment before clearing his throat and muttering, “Does... I like girls, y'know, so... he can be...”
“I get it. See ya in a bit,” Zeke said abruptly, winking and getting into the car.
~*~
Knowing the fridge held one lone beer, there'd been a quick stop at the package store for the best brew money could buy. A bottle of wine had also been plucked from the shelf, though Zeke didn't know if they'd actually uncork it. To him, there was a celebratory nature to tonight's events, but who knew if Jamie would end up coming-if he'd get cold feet?
'Like hell,' Zeke thought as he popped open his bottle of Black Tuesday and slammed back his first gulp. The rich brew gave a wonderful tingle-burn down his throat into his gut. It'd give him the guts to get through the night with their new friend. However cocky and confident he was, having a beer beforehand gave him the 'Dutch Courage' he needed. He'd space them out, however; nothing was more unappealing than a slurring, drunken idiot performing sex acts, especially with an outsider looking on.
With the clock reading 7:30, Zeke shuffled out of the kitchen into the hall then climbed up to the second floor. The bedroom door was cracked open; he gave it a lone knock then entered. He smiled wide in finding his obedient, freshly-showered boy sitting on the bed, naked and waiting patiently. His damp hair was starting to curl at his temples, the strands going this way and that as it dried. Zeke smiled and passed by to get to the closet.
“Hmm,” he hummed aloud in sorting through the choices. There'd been many times Zeke had made a beautiful, pretty doll out of his boy, but he went past the usual items he'd choose. Tonight was different, special, a special occasion, which urged him on to the far end of the closet's rail where two items rested on hangers, still protected by tough plastic wrapping. Zeke knew which one he wanted tonight, and his hand almost trembled in taking up the hanger, lavender fabric wrapped around it.
He hadn't planned on spending more than five-hundred dollars on one piece of lingerie the night he'd trawled the internet, looking for something 'interesting', but that's what he'd ended up doing. Nancy Meyer's website had listed Carine Gilson as one of their product lines, which led Zeke to the gorgeous, lavender-and-pale-pink, lacy and very sheer slip. It would be practically invisible on a body, but its presence sent a clear message: I can make him beautiful, it'd whispered to Zeke through the computer screen, and without another thought Zeke had clicked 'Buy', for both the slip and matching panty and paid for expedited shipping to boot. He hadn't needed to; it'd been in the closet for almost two months now, never used. Smiling, he brought it out with a gentle hand, uncovered it and looked to Casey, who was staring at the item with wide eyes.
“Let's get you ready,” Zeke said.
The boy nodded and followed Zeke across the hall. They entered the bathroom together, where Zeke hung the slip on the hanger on the door. No way was this piece going anywhere near the shower or floor.
First things first: with Casey standing at attention by the sink, Zeke opened the small closet to his right and rifled around a moment. Their favorite body-butter, honey-scented and all-natural, was brought out. Zeke uncapped it and dug out a good-sized dollop, which he rubbed smoothly in his hands before bringing them to Casey's neck and shoulders. A deep massage was given; Zeke rubbed in hard, slow slides over the skin, right up to Casey's nape and under his ears. Even Casey's face was smoothed over with Zeke using his thumbs to give his cheeks, forehead and chin a serving of the cream. He made his work as even and calculated as possible, gazing at every pore he stimulated. Sometimes it was difficult doing this without wanting to grab Casey up and ravage him immediately. But sometimes, like now, Zeke was more interested in the prep-process, and how Casey's body needed to be treated. There'd be plenty of time to undo all of his hard work later.
One arm was raised up to hold and drag his hands over and down; more cream, then the other arm. “Turn around,” he told Casey, who did as instructed. Zeke took hold of both shoulders and pulled them back slowly; the muscles and bone curved and tugged against his hold, but the beautiful body obeyed Zeke perfectly. Zeke moved back down to Casey's wrists and held them together tight in one hand, the other pushing Casey's back with its heel. Casey made a small, low grunt as he was stretched out. Zeke kept the position a moment before letting go; Casey straightened as Zeke next took hold of his neck and hair. He pulled Casey's head back very, very slowly by his bangs, making him face the ceiling. “Deep breath,” Zeke said softly. Casey's chest puffed out, one, two, three, then sank back down, a heavy exhalation coming out slow and long. After a few sessions of inhale-exhale, Zeke let go and slid his arms underneath Casey's.
It was odd how mechanical it could get. Zeke didn't feel any urge to shove Casey down and give in to lust as he pressed Casey's back to his chest, both of them bare and warm. Zeke clenched his hands tight over Casey's shoulders then slid them down his chest, his fingers stretched out to work the muscles with the palms and heels. Both of them grunted through the process of Zeke's bruising-but-not motions, straight down to the line of Casey's groin and thighs. The half-hard cock between those thighs went ignored, Zeke's only intentions lying in making him ready. After a few minutes of this, Zeke moved back. “Turn to the wall.”
Again, Casey complied. He flattened his hands over the beige wallpapered surface and stayed still, letting Zeke hold his hips tight. Now, Zeke was indeed sorely tempted. He fought away from the usual urgency to take hold of the boy's ass with both hands, one on either side. This part took the most treatment preparation-wise; the skin was a deep pink after only a few grabs, twists and hard massages. Zeke braced his fingers where ass met thigh below and swept his thumbs over the round swells, then up again to hold onto Casey tight. His wrists ached with the pressure he applied, Casey himself showing signs of tension and slight pain in a string of gasping-grunts.
Finally, Zeke felt the work there was done. “Turn around again,” he said. Once Casey's back was to the wall, Zeke bent down, took Casey's knee and lifted the leg up. It bent and pressed against Casey's stomach; Zeke pushed it in closer, until Casey's knee was close to his collarbone. Back, forth, smooth, tight, slow; the action was repeated with the other leg until Zeke was confident that Casey's body had been thoroughly stretched and made ready. Smiling, Zeke ended the process in taking Casey's face in his hands and giving him a long, sweet kiss. After that, he bent away, smacked his lips and looked Casey in the eye. “Purple and pink to match. Get pretty.”
~*~
Part Deux
~*~