Malleable

Title: Malleable (2/?)

Author: L.C. Sulla

Email: lcsulla2001@yahoo.com

Fandom: The Faculty

Pairing: Casey/Zeke

Rating: NC-17 for a whole lot of porn and very little plot.



WARNINGS: explicit m/m sex, traces of domination and submission, and sex between a 17 year old and a 19 year old. If any of this bothers you, please do not read any further. Consider yourself warned.



ADDED WARNING: there is a little more humiliation in this chapter, but one should bear in mind that this is the beginning of the tale, and it starts in a dark place. Chapter One showed that it is a relationship in metamorphosis - this chapter is only how it started.



Summary: Casey reflects on his relationship with Zeke as the events in the film unfold. This chapter: How it all started.







Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, and receive no remuneration from this story.



Beta: The spectacular and wondrous Goodbyemyfancy



A/N: Feedback much appreciated, but please try to be gentle. This is my first foray into Faculty slash and my first real fic whatsoever since leaving the X-Files fandom in 2001.







Zeke pulls his car into the driveway of his home and parks, before taking the group to the workshop beyond. Casey has never been brought back here before, and he is as surprised as the rest at the lab setup Zeke has constructed to manufacture his scat. When Zeke hands Casey the first pen and instructs him to snort it, the younger boy wonders if he has been picked first only because he is the most pliable of the group, and Zeke has long experience with his malleability.



Sometimes Casey wonders why no one has figured out what’s going on. But, then again, why would they? Zeke doesn’t go near him at school unless no one is around, and he occasionally beds girls for rather predictable one-night stands. Casey’s the only ongoing sex partner for Zeke, as far as he knows, and no one else is aware of the fact. Thus Zeke can happily maintain his status as an unattached straight man. Casey’s parents would never suspect what was actually going on, and are merely happy that he seems to have found a friend. Zeke’s own parents might as well not exist. But when it comes down to it, how would anyone guess what’s going on between them, when Casey himself doesn’t know? He’s been increasingly angst-ridden over it all as the months have gone by, and his emotions are in a constant state of flux.



But since that last encounter two days ago, one new emotion has apparently surfaced and Casey wonders if he should be fighting it. It feels like love. He has no way of knowing if Zeke shares this feeling – after all, he only has Zeke’s body language to lead him, and with the older boy’s constant mood swings it’s all very confusing, to say the least. Casey wishes he could talk to Zeke, just talk and clear it all up, but Casey fears a withdrawal from Zeke most of all. It would be bad enough to not experience gentle-Zeke anymore. Now Casey realizes that to not have Zeke at all would be unbearable. He will do nothing to jeopardize their uneasy balance.



He glances once more at Zeke and dutifully snorts said pen. Hears Zeke say, “Easy boy” with something that sounds like concern and then everything around him begins to shake and melt at the same time. His nose is burning so badly that he fears that the drug will burn through to his brain, and his eyes are starting to tear up. And what does he think of when the world is dissolving around him? What else, if not Zeke? Casey puts his head down in his lap for a moment, and vividly recalls that fateful morning in the science supply room when it all started.



***



As usual, Casey was greeted at school with a fist to his face, so he hid out in one of his less common hiding places. He had tried to go into the men’s room in the east wing, but Zeke Tyler was once again holding court, surrounded by the school’s other undesirables. As a result, Casey had crept back out without being noticed and headed down the hall, keeping as unobtrusive as possible to stave off further attacks. He had been thinking about the men’s room in the west wing, but instead, something made him spontaneously try the handle to the science equipment storeroom. Casey needed to clean his face and catch his breath, as he felt seconds away from breaking down into tears and didn’t want the repercussions from that. He had learned on the first day of first grade that public tears either made the beatings longer or initiated new ones.



The storeroom was almost always locked, but once in a while Mr. Furlong forgot to lock it, and on two previous occasions it had served Casey as a particularly good hiding spot. This time it happened to be unlocked again, and Casey waited until the hall cleared out before ducking inside. So now there he was, sitting on the floor against the far wall, blotting his split lip with a Kleenex and rocking back and forth as tears ran down his face, practically hyperventilating as the expletives exited his mouth without his brain forming them.



He had nearly gotten a hold of himself, and was faintly considering getting up and going to the English Lit class he was already late for when he heard a key in the lock. Fuck. If Mr. Furlong found him, he’d be sent to the guidance councilor in two seconds flat, and would find himself again trying to explain why he could not simply stay away from the jocks. As if he doesn’t fucking try every single day. He quickly swiped at his face with his sleeve and tried to dissolve into the wall, hoping in vain that the teacher won’t notice him.



But when the person entered the room, the only thing Casey heard was the door closing, and soon afterwards, the snap of a lighter. Things were picked up around the room, some placed back, some not. Casey was quite sure that whoever was in the room, it was not Mr. Furlong. He scooted a little further to the side and pulled himself into the corner of the room, hidden behind a desk laden with beakers and Bunsen burners. He whimpered inside his head: Please please please...



Apparently God did hate him, because Zeke Tyler appeared around the edge of the desk and upon seeing Casey, did a double take that would have been comical under other circumstances. A slow smile spread across Zeke’s face, and Casey knew that he was in for it. He ruefully thought how the men’s room in the west wing definitely would have been a better (and safer) bet.



“Casey...” The word is pitched low, and Casey was shocked at how Zeke made his name sound like a dirty word.



“Fuck off. Leave me alone.” Mumbled, staring at the floor.



Of course, Casey had not expected that tactic to work, but he always did try to make at least a token show of defiance before being smashed to a pulp. And, of course, Zeke ignored him and instead sat down on the floor next to him, about a foot away. Casey continued to stare blindly at the floor, and pulled his body into as small a target as he could get it to be - knees up, head down, leaning into the corner. He waited for the first punch.



And waited.



It didn’t come. He could see Zeke staring at him out of the corner of his eye, just... staring; but the older boy was silent, and from where Casey was sitting, he could tell Zeke was not smiling anymore either. He could hear him breathing, and smelled a spicy, pleasant scent emanating from his body. What did Zeke want? Casey was stumped, but he had little doubt it that whatever it was, it would be something that hurt.



Perhaps five minutes passed in this way. Zeke was motionless beside him, and Casey was beginning to cramp from holding his position, and the tension in his body made him tremble. He was about to drop everything and try to make a break for the door, even though that would mean climbing over the larger boy, when Zeke slid closer towards him, closing the space between them until their arms were pressed together side to side and their hips almost touched.



Casey was stunned. He could not figure out what Zeke’s trying to do – that is until Casey’s hand was gripped and pulled away from his body where he had had them clasped around his legs and was then guided to Zeke’s lean, muscular thigh. What the fuck? With a horrified gasp, Casey raised his head and tried to yank his hand away, and thoughts roiled though his mind at a mile a minute. Thoughts like: Could Zeke know somehow? Had he seen Casey looking? Was he going to tell the entire school that Casey Conner was a laughable faggot who had tried to grope him in the science storeroom? But his attempt to pull away was thwarted when Zeke tightened his grip, and Casey suddenly found his hand on something not very far away, but still very different from a thigh.



Zeke had stretched his legs out and pulled Casey’s hand over to rest on his groin, which was sporting one hell of an erection by anyone’s standards. Casey froze, feeling heat suffusing his body as he blushed to his roots. His brain stuttered to a halt as Zeke groaned a little, flexed his hips upwards, and ground himself into Casey’s hand. Casey finally turned his head and was staring with wide, shocked eyes, but Zeke simply stared at him with no expression whatsoever on his face, totally blank but for the two spots of color high on his cheeks. Casey’s fingers twitched around the bulk under his hand and Zeke closed his eyes for a moment and released a long drawn-out sigh punctuated by another flex of his hips.



Casey had found himself in turmoil -- on one hand, he wanted nothing more than to flee far, far away, but on the other hand, this was what he had dreamed about. Maybe it had not specifically been Zeke all the time, but god, just to be touched and to be allowed to touch. His cock was swelling in his own jeans, and he was finding it harder and harder to think clearly. It was obvious to him that he had to careful with this; if he made the wrong move, the whole school could hear about it, or Casey could be going home with a few more bruises than usual.



Zeke clearly wanted him to touch him, no doubt there. Casey did not think that if he put up a real resistance that Zeke would hurt him, or even stop him from leaving. But he feared the retribution of gossip. And really, Casey had known that if he looked down deep enough, he would see that this was an opportunity to be grasped with both hands (if you’ll pardon the pun), because who knew when another human being would let Casey touch them? Even Casey’s parents avoided touching him, as if he were some kind of leper housed in their home. He can’t remember what a hug feels like. He’s simply starved for human contact, and Zeke had been a jerk-off fantasy of his for as long as he could remember.



So Casey made his decision and began to rub Zeke’s cock even while his hand was still held in place. He expected Zeke to release him to free up his movements, and was surprised when the older boy grunted and lifted his hand up and off of his lap.



Zeke had opened his eyes and was staring again at Casey, still gripping his wrist, and then he fumbled with his fly with his free hand and released his cock with a quiet sigh of relief. He then brought Casey’s hand back down and wrapped his fingers around the hard column of flesh. The skin of Zeke’s cock was delightfully silky, and moved easily over the concrete housed underneath. Casey had broken eye contact with Zeke to look down at what his hand was doing, and at that moment he had been surprised to discover that Zeke is uncircumcised. He watched himself with a kind of detached disbelief as his hand rose and fell on Zeke’s cock, stroking and squeezing the way Casey himself likes it. As he pulled upwards on Zeke’s cock, the foreskin appeared, cloaking the dark red head for a moment before disappearing again with each fall of Casey’s hand.

Casey could not believe what was happening. He felt both a sense of wonder and an escalating tide of humiliation. He pushed the latter to the back of his mind and pressed the heel of his free hand against his own cock, and stroked it fervently, and found himself on the edge within mere moments. Zeke had removed the hand that had guided him there, so Casey was ultimately jacking off the older boy on his own.



He had concentrating so much on what he was doing with both hands that he had not noticed Zeke’s movement until a hand appeared on the back of his neck and applied solid pressure. Casey immediately guessed what Zeke wanted. How could he not? The sense of humiliation had grown, as had his lust. He wanted to do this, and somehow the humiliation was fueling his desire, so he allowed his head to be guided down to Zeke’s crotch.



Before he could get his mouth around Zeke’s dick, however, the older boy’s other hand covered Casey’s fist again and quickly pumped his cock twice. Casey found himself with a face full of cum, one splatter cutting across his cheek, another spurt to his eye, and the last directly over his lips and dribbling into his open mouth. He could hear Zeke grunting quietly with each spurt of liquid exiting his cock, and the hand on the back of his neck clenched in matching rhythm.



Finally Zeke released him, and Casey sat up, unintentionally swallowing the drops of cum that landed on his tongue. He kept his eyes closed; his humiliation complete. He heard the older boy putting himself back in his jeans and doing up the zipper. Zeke obviously had planned to come all over his face from the start, and there was something so degrading in that knowledge that Casey had not known if he would ever be able to open his eyes again. But there was cum in his eyelashes, so he raised his hand and wiped at his eyes with his sleeves. When he opened his eyes, he saw Zeke was still staring at him, panting and still in high color from his release, eyes traveling all over Casey’s face, apparently taking in his utter degradation. Feeling acid rise in his throat, Casey was about to sneer at Zeke and possibly attempt to throw an extremely foolish punch at him when Zeke reached out and scooped up some of the cum off his cheek that Casey had missed on one finger, and held out that finger in front of the younger boy, close to his lips.



Casey stared, and thought to himself, “Well, why not?” He had already been brought about as low as a guy could get, but he was not sure if he should wallow in it and allow what Zeke wanted. Then, having felt his own cock throb from within its cramped spot in his jeans, he sighed, closed his eyes and opened his mouth, accepting the finger full of Zeke’s semen. He heard Zeke utter a low, pleased, “Mmmm...” as he licked the finger clean.



His eyes were still closed and Zeke’s finger was still in his mouth, and as a result, Casey jumped when a hand that was not his own landed gently on his crotch. His eyes flew open as Zeke stroked him with increasing roughness through his jeans while simultaneously sliding the finger in and out of Casey’s lips. The younger boy began to unconsciously suck at the finger, hips thrusting upwards into Zeke’s palm.



He was shocked. He never would have expected Zeke to reciprocate in any way, shape or form. It was ... it was truly unbelievable.



It took no time at all before Casey whimpered softly and came in his pants, and god only knew how he was going to get through the day with such a mess in his boxers. His head fell back and hit the wall with a solid ‘thunk’.



Zeke removed his hand and the finger from Casey’s mouth, and had predictably risen to his feet, quite obviously leaving the younger boy in his own mess on the floor. Casey opened his eyes and looked up at the Zeke, and found him once again staring silently down at him with no expression to be found on his face. Suddenly, with the speed of a striking snake, Zeke swooped down and kissed Casey full on the mouth. With tongue. Their teeth clicked together harshly before he withdrew, and then Zeke abruptly turned and went for the door, grabbing a vial and a beaker on the way out. The door closed behind him quietly.



Casey did not know if he felt crushed or elated. It seemed to be a mixture of both. On one side of it, he wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. He hoped that Zeke would not talk about what had occurred, because his already miserable life would then become unendurable. And he felt terribly used. But there was something in him that got off on that feeling. He knew that if he had put up any real resistance, Zeke would have let him go. But he never tried to stop what had happened.



At the same time, he was thrilled, simply because Zeke had reciprocated. It was not necessary -- Zeke could have easily come in Casey’s face, laughed, and walked away. But instead he took the time, after he himself had come, to bring Casey to orgasm. Yes, he got Zeke off, was rewarded, and Casey wanted to do it all again, and half hated himself for it. And that kiss... what the hell was up with that kiss?



All these thoughts swirled in his head, but in the end, all Casey could think was, “Why?”



***



Casey resurfaces and it’s clear that little to no time has passed during his little ‘check out’ from the present. He catches on to what Stan says, the words themselves having no meaning, and he giggles at the nonsense sounds and repeats them.



“You’re takin’ it...”



Casey finds Stan holding a gun in his face, and looks up to see that Zeke is absolutely enraged at this. Casey can at this moment only find it all extremely amusing. Zeke yells something about tweaking, and Casey has to stop himself from shrieking with laughter. When has Zeke ever been this funny?



Everything explodes when Delilah snorts the scat. The things crawling under her face are sobering, and Casey grabs the gun, and turns, pointing it at Zeke’s chest although he’s actually looking to the older boy for direction. Apparently realizing this, Zeke directs Casey to shoot Delilah, and the younger boy whips around to point the gun at the girl. Usually a direct order from Zeke elicits an almost instant obedience in Casey, but killing is one thing his nature will not permit.



However, Stokely’s nature has no such issues. But even still, Delilah gets away.



Fuck.



If they survive this, Zeke’s gonna rip Casey a new one. Literally.