Author: Mosh
Fandom: The Faculty

Title: Pervert
Pairing: Zeke/Casey
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Zeke never did say thanks to Casey for destroying the alien.
A/N: After wandering around the very small Faculty fandom for a few hours, I figured I would try my hand at writing for it. With many thanks to Bean for the American-pick. :) 2000 words.

Note: You may not archive, re-post, or alter any of my stories without my permission. Please contact me first. Thanks!

A trail of wet skin lay in wake of his tongue; he licked all the way down, down past a navel, down between two sharp hipbones. There, he paused to suck on the flesh, reddening it, looking up from under his eyebrows with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Concealed behind the bookcase, Casey had observed them. It wasn't like he'd planned on walking in on them, or anything; he'd simply been returning a photography book to the library when he'd heard a noise, like a muffled cry, coming from one of the English classrooms.

Before, he would have let it alone. He would've been beaten up for just interrupting someone else's fight. But after, after all the shit the year before, Casey was constantly on his guard for anything... abnormal.

They all were.

Carefully, so as not to be heard, he'd pushed the classroom door open.

Miss Burke shuddered. Her blood-red top was pushed up over her naked breasts; her lower lip caught between her teeth and eyes closed as Zeke danced his tongue further down over her stomach. One of his hands rubbed circles between her milk-white thighs, then shifted further up with a teasing slowness. She let out another breathless cry.

Later, Casey would be dismayed and extremely concerned by the way Zeke's mouth - Zeke's tongue - mesmerised him, as it flicked in and out snake-like over her skin like some learned explorer. Right then, though, in the moment, one of Casey's hands had found its way to his groin and pressed firmly. He had let out a gasp, surprising himself; he hadn't been able to stop it - it just came out.

He was a pervert. That's right - he was a stupid fucked-up pervert and he was watching Zeke fuck Miss Burke and he liked it. He had wanted to... well, he hadn't been sure what he wanted. Or, at the very least, he hadn't been willing to admit to himself what he thought he might want.

No, it was way too scary (fucked-up) to go down that road.

Momentarily, the obscene slither of Zeke's tongue had paused and, very slowly, he had turned his head to one side, toward the source of the gasp.

It had taken a second for it to sink in; that Zeke was staring him right in the eyes. It was so surreal as the realisation hit home, like a sudden rush of vertigo almost sending him to his knees.

Then Casey had fled.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Saw you lookin', man."

Shit. Swallowing, Casey tried not to flinch as the words were breathed against his ear. He lowered his camera, his subject (a crow picking at a dead worm - no, it wasn't dead, it still twitched. But it would soon be dead) instantly forgotten. He shifted awkwardly on the bench, unsure of what to say or do. The lawns in front of Herrington High were deserted, thankfully. If Zeke was about to go off at him, at least no one would hear it.

Pervert, barked his mind.

The slight, warm Ohio breeze had dried the sweat on his forehead and neck, after he'd raced outside and stumbled heavily against the table, still hard. He'd considered fleeing the school entirely, heading into town, but he didn't fancy detention, not so close to finals - it wouldn't look good on his record.

Zeke was standing close by, way too close. Casey could feel the breath ruffling his hair, but he still couldn't answer.

They'd been through a lot together. Not just him and Zeke, but the others too: Stokely, Stan, Delilah... everyone. But as Zeke swung one leg over the bench and sat down facing him, Casey thought that, given the chance, he'd take the aliens over this particular confrontation any day.

"What're you doing here?" he finally said, squirming beneath his skin. "I thought you'd left."

"Visiting," Zeke said, "There are a few people I wanted to catch up with."

"Oh." Go away, go away Zeke - leave it, don't-

"Saw you lookin'," Zeke repeated, a mild smirk spreading across his mouth. God, his mouth. Casey looked away, down at his camera, and fiddled with the lens cap. "I've got some skat in my trunk..."

Casey flushed. "No way - I've had enough skat to last me a lifetime."

"Aw, and I thought you liked it."

Casey was starting to wonder what Zeke was playing at. It wasn't as if they had anything in common... except the night they had killed the alien, of course. Yeah, as far as bonding situations went, that was pretty monumental. But there was only so much of that story you could take before wanting to gouge out your own eardrums, especially if you'd played a key role in it.

Their strange mismatched 'group' had drifted apart over the last twelve months; Zeke had left school the year previous. Delilah was, unsurprisingly, now dating the new quarterback, after quietly breaking up with Casey at the end of the summer. Stokes and Stan were still together, but they rarely hung out with anyone but each other lately.

It happened. The bond just... grew less important as things got back to normal.

Not for the first time, Casey wondered if any of the others were still having the nightmares. He hated that he had them almost every night.

Zeke let out an impatient sigh, staring at him. No, he wasn't there to talk aliens. He was trying to torment, Casey could tell. He had that wicked, winning grin of his (Christ, since when had he started thinking such stupid things?) and his eyes were locked on Casey, mercilessly.

Zeke leaned in. "Let's go somewhere."

"Huh?"

"C'mon."

"I can't - I'll get in trouble."

One incredulous eyebrow arched. "Oh please, you're one of the saviours of the school. They're not gonna kick you out for taking the afternoon off." He tapped a finger against the table top, drumming a fast rhythm. "Senior year, Case."

Why did he have to say 'Case' like that, like they were good friends or something? Casey glanced at the school dubiously.

"C'mon," Zeke said again, getting up from the bench. He started to walk towards the parking lot, in his customary slow saunter.

Casey, never the leader but always the follower, did the only thing he knew. He panicked, rose, slung his camera strap around his neck, and took off after Zeke.

* * * * * * * * * *

Zeke drove down to the lake, the car stereo turned up so loud conversation would have been pointless. Questions lurked in Casey's throat; he sat in the passenger seat clutching his camera like a lifeline, the whole time wondering what the hell was going on. A large part of him wished Zeke would just have a go at him for spying already and get it out of the way, instead of this needless beating around the bush.

Pervert, you deserve this.

The car skidded to a halt, and before Casey could say a word Zeke opened his door and got out.

He watched from behind the windshield as Zeke wandered around the hood, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. He opened the off-side door and beckoned for Casey to get out.

"Um, listen, Zeke..." he began, as he climbed out of the car. "I didn't mean to see... what I did - I was just taking some books back to the library and I heard..."

"What did you hear?" Zeke said smoothly, eyeing him. He sucked in a slither of smoke, inhaled, then blew it out again.

"A... noise. Like a cry." Casey squirmed. "I thought someone was in trouble."

"Really letting that hero complex get to you, huh?" It was hard to tell if Zeke was genuinely joking or not. His face remained serious.

Casey let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah. So, um, I wanted to say sorry. I didn't mean to see... you know."

"S' okay, man. Confirmed a couple of things that'd been bothering me."

Frowning, Casey said, "What d'you mean?"

Zeke took a step forward.

Casey took a step back towards the car. He wasn't sure, but it seemed like Zeke was trying to intimidate him. If he was, it was working. "What's going on, Zeke?"

"Just testing a theory." Another step, then another. Another. The cigarette flipped through the air and landed on the road, still glowing orange and smoking.

Then, with a little pressure, Zeke brushed his knuckles over the erection Casey wasn't even aware of having.

"Oh, God... wait, I can explain-"

"No need," Zeke said, now so close Casey could clearly see flecks of gold in the brown of his eyes. He looked amused.

It was mortifying.

"W-what are you doing?" he ground out; his voice was shaky and a lot weaker than he'd intended. Why'd he always have to sound like a stuttering idiot?

"I never did say thanks," Zeke replied simply. With that, he pressed forward, crushing Casey back against the car door.

Zeke was far taller, all hard planes and muscle. Delilah had been too soft and confusing, when Casey had finally plucked up the courage to venture beneath her hips with his mouth. 'A disaster' pretty much summed up their first few encounters. It definitely hadn't been so easy for Casey to recreate the expressions the women wore in the porn movies he'd downloaded. Delilah had looked more frustrated than anything, though when she'd caught his eyes she'd offered him a huffy little smirk. "You're doing so well," she'd encouraged.

Casey had always wondered if she'd been trying to convince him, or herself.

"What planet are you on?" Zeke's voice had taken on a rough edge. Before Casey could say anything, Zeke gave his cock a squeeze through the denim of his jeans. If the day hadn't been so hot, if the situation hadn't been so fucking weird, it would have felt incredible.

"Ohh... uh, what-?" he tried to ask again, but his breath caught in his throat and his eyelids fluttered. His hips jerked forward against his will as the grip increased. Oh, Christ - he was going to come in his pants if Zeke didn't stop touching him. "Please... I don't know what this is about."

"I told you. Thanks."

"F-for what?"

"What do you think?" Zeke leaned further in, until their mouths were almost touching. Softly, he whispered, "Pervert," and gave Casey another rough squeeze.

With a hoarse moan fueled by his sudden exhale of breath, Casey's cock jumped furiously in his pants and he came, shuddering and clutching the material of Zeke's shirt. "God, stop... I..."

His legs shook, his fingers turning white as he held on to Zeke. Fuck, fuck, fuck - he couldn't think anything else, and he couldn't voice it; everything came out as strangled groans.

Finally, as soon as Casey fell silent, Zeke released him and replaced his hand with his groin. He started to grind himself, slow but hard, his own erection large and solid, digging into Casey's abdomen.

Casey couldn't believe it was happening, and had little choice but to gasp and blink and try to take it in.

Zeke was getting off, against him. Zeke was hard, fucking his cock against him. Tweaking didn't even feel as weird as this, unless he had accepted the offered skat but forgotten, and was currently hallucinating.

Zeke was oddly silent when he came, stilling and breathing out against Casey's forehead. For a moment he just stayed put, chest rising and falling, heat radiating off him.

Then, he stepped back, suddenly. "Don't tell a soul."

Words failed Casey. He shook his head.

"C'mon, I'll take you back."

With that, Zeke straightened his shirt, then walked back around to the driver-side door.

As he shifted, Casey felt the hot dampness in his underwear and winced. What the fuck had that been about? Thanks? Thanks for what, killing Marybeth?

Jesus.

Yeah, Zeke had spotted him in the English classroom, watching him and Miss Burke. But had it been that apparent that Casey'd been more turned on by him than her? Zeke had always said he knew everything. Casey started to wonder if it was true; he was too damn observant.

"Hurry up, Case," Zeke called from inside the car.

With a sense of heaviness in his stomach, and a light-headed feeling lurking behind his eyes, Casey shakily opened the car door and got in.

The CD player clicked, the music blared once more. The car revved, then sped off down the highway, back the way they had come.

~fin~