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Crackfic off a prompt I gacked from
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naemi by way of
mews1945, originally from
prisca1960.
Casey & Zeke = slave-fic = in a future world Casey is forced to sell his body and soul to survive. My own twist on the idea.
Needleby Serai
Casey's gaze is turned towards the floor. He breathes slow, deep breaths. Waiting, waiting. A shiver runs through him, and his knees ache from the cold tile of the floor. Are the long waits a deliberate part of his torment? He doesn't know what goes on behind the second door, but he thinks they are. She's gotten smarter, more insightful, more intimate with humanity as time's gone on.
She's discovered how much fun it is to play with us. He thinks about Zeke. About iron arms clamped around him and a hand over his mouth, a desperate whisper:
shh, Casey, they're right behind me, and the tromp of feet passing by in the hallway. For a moment in the gym they'd thought it was over, that everything was alright and they were free. Then Stokely's eyes had blazed like fire, and Zeke had had to use a football helmet to finish her off. Casey had flung himself screaming at Zeke and then run. But somehow Zeke had known, and caught up with him, held him motionless while death marched by, the horror of their failure pressed tight between their bodies. Casey could feel Zeke's face against his neck, arms trembling and chest rigid.
The door begins to open and Casey instantly wipes his mind clean. Blank canvas, white space, paint it, fast. Xanadu. Nine Inch Nails. The shore of the Pacific. Snow in Canada. He goes from one thing to another, all the while keeping his mind away from the only subject that matters, the only one that interests her. Other than torturing him, of course.
"Hello, Casey." That voice like honey. He looks up, because he knows she wants him to see. The Queen's daughter looks down at him with Miss Burke's beautiful eyes, and slowly kneels to his level. Her soft hand caresses his face, and he can feel it starting already. She leans in and her tongue forks and flickers over his cheek. He closes his eyes and thinks of Mars, and apples, and the songs he sang to himself in the darkroom.
In his dreams, Zeke runs through the night, always eluding them, always managing to escape.
You'll never stop paying, she hissed in Casey's ear the first time, and he's not sure if she meant for her mother or for Zeke. Probably both. Her hands glide down his skin, and his mind races as his body responds, because his body always responds, because she won't stop until it does respond and his body knows it. She licks at the tears that run down his silent face, and he feels her stinger running over his back, finding a new spot to pierce. His lips begin to tremble as he thinks of lions and wolves and dark golden eyes. The sound of running feet fades into the darkness as Casey keeps his side of the bargain.
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