Crane - Chapter 7 Posted

So, so, so. Here’s another chapter of Crane, and I’m working on the next chapter of JCHM, which, sadly, might not be quite as long as I’d planned… but then again, I’d never planned on it being THAT long to begin with. Although I sat down and had a crazy brainstorm session with a friend of mine, and I’ve got some awesome ideas for other avenues to take with the Travellers, and all these multiple Johns I’ve got going, and a bunch of other fun, fun stuff. So pretty much, what it looks like, is JCHM is probably going to wrap up in 3 to 4 chapters, and then I’ve got half of a one-shot written as a gift for my friend Remy (Lonnie is actually his epic lovechild, and I hope to one day convince him to post the original story that features our favorite feline) and there’s also the Deacon backstory, and a sort of-not really continuation we’re looking at doing. So yea, finished but not saying goodbye. We’ll see what happens. In other news, said Remy and me were hanging out, rocking to this totally awesome band, and one of their songs got me thinking about a good ubersmutty story I’d like to write, so that’s probably going to show up sometime soon. Anyone like good rock music? You go to you tube and look up ‘Monty Are I - Dublin Waltz’… makes me feel all weird inside, and the basic thrust of that song, hurr hurr no pun intended, is what’s got my brain sparking. It’s a good song, and a good band… especially their old stuff, if you like ska. Which I do. Ska is civilization. I found out about them like five years ago while they were on the Warped Tour, but they were just Monty at the time… anyway, they’re up there in my epic music list, so since they inspired me to start writing you guys some off the wall smutty goodness, you’d like to see where the idea came from. Give them a shot, if that’s your kind of music.

About emails… my NEW email, at least until I fix the old one, is crowe.flies@yahoo.com you can all send me notices if you want to be added to the mailing list, and if you want me to reply to your reviews, send them there so I can!

On a more direct topic, not to worry, children; this particular story will in fact run for a while. I’ve got lots and lots and lots of plans for our can’t-keep-their-hands-to-themselves cousins. So read on, enjoy it, and leave me lots of reviews, pl0x!

Oh, by the way, anyone know where I can pick up a good beta that’s not totally SWAMPED with other work? I write erratically, and often really, really late at night, and I’m looking for someone who can beta for me without a three day wait… >.<

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zeke’s back arched as he panted loudly, his entire body shaking. Above and behind him, Crane pressed wet, trailing kisses along his shoulder blades, his long, cool fingers working their way slowly but steadily into Zeke’s body. It hurt, way more than Zeke expected it to, those slick fingers pushing and stroking his insides, stretching him. He bit his lip, hard, and whimpered.

Crane’s mouth pressed against his ear, his teeth nipping the lobe gently, and he hushed him. “It’s okay.” he said softly. “Relax, Zeke.” his finger pressed deeper, and Zeke winced. “Breathe, it’ll get better. Let me in.”

Zeke took a huge, shuddering breath and tried to calm down, and while he was searching for some way to calm down, those fingers in him found something, and with the gentlest of brushes, Zeke saw stars. It wasn’t enough to block out all of the pain, but it was enough to make him gasp in pleasure and press backwards in an attempt to put more pressure on that spot.

“There?” Crane asked, and Zeke moaned in response as those torturous fingers exploited that place. He heard Crane chuckle over his own loud, erratic breathing. Crane was merciless; Zeke was soon thrusting against his hand, trying desperately to overcome the pain in favor of the pleasure. “Look at you.” Crane whispered hoarsely. “God, you’re so hot, Zeke.” he groaned, and Zeke felt Crane’s mouth against the side of his neck. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

Zeke closed his eyes, the shudder of want that went through him so intense he felt like he was going to faint. It was all getting to be a little too much; he’d never gone this far, never done these things, and it’d all happened so fast. It seemed like so much, so soon, and it was Crane… and then Crane’s fingers were gone and he whimpered at the loss.

He felt one of Crane’s hands on the small of his back, and a moment later the read of Crane’s cock against his entrance. It felt… huge. Zeke swallowed back a yelp of panic and tensed up. “Relax.” Crane told him, the hand on his back rubbing in small, slow circles. “This is going to hurt you, Zeke.”

“And you…” Zeke panted. “tell me to… relax?”

Crane chuckled. “It won’t hurt for long. Is that better?”

“No.” Zeke said, and shot a look over his shoulder. “Crane are you-” Crane apparently had no interest in what Zeke was going to say, because he started pushing in right then. The pain was immediate, and intense. Zeke head snapped back and his mouth opened in a soundless scream, tears springing to his eyes. Crane made a hushing, soothing sound and didn’t stop; it was like being torn in half. Zeke’s fingers scrabbled for purchase on the too-tight fabric of the arm of the couch, and a loud, desperate sob tore out of his throat.

“I know.” Crane said, and Zeke’s felt his fingers in his back at the back of his head, petting, then slide down to the back of his neck. “I know, just relax.” Crane made a growling, moaning sound. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” And then he stopped moving, his hips pressed flush against Zeke’s ass, and bent to wrap his arms around Zeke’s waist. “You okay?” Crane asked him.

Had Zeke been capable of speech, he would’ve explained exactly why that was the stupidest question he’d ever been asked. He dropped his head down, onto his forearms, and let out another sob, although this one was more like a whimper. Without the movement, he felt… uncomfortable, too full, achy, but not exactly in pain. He was terrified, though, of what would happen next. Even if it was just to pull out, Crane would have to move again, and he-

Crane brushed over his left nipple, then pinched lightly, rolling the tiny nub between his fingertips, and Zeke gasped at the bolt of pleasure that simply touch sent through him. His other hand wrapped around Zeke’s cock, stroking slowly, and Zeke moaned. “You still want me.” Crane told him. “When you’re ready, Zeke.”

Zeke didn’t know what he meant by this, but at the moment he didn’t think it mattered. Crane’s talented hands worked him perfectly; he almost forgot about the cock buried painfully inside of him in favor of the feelings Crane was supplying him. Unthinkingly he rocked his hips, hoping to get a better friction against Crane’s hand, and in the process Crane slid out of him, perhaps an inch, then back in again. They both moaned, and Zeke felt Crane’s cock scrape against that spot inside of him.

“Fuck.” he groaned, and did it again. There was pain, plenty of it, but Crane’s hands and that place in him almost eclipsed it. It felt so strange, so good, that he did it again. He shuddered.

“That’s it.” Crane whispered, nipping at Zeke’s neck and shoulder with his teeth. “God, you feel so good.” when Zeke rocked against him again, he met the movement with a light thrust of his own, and Zeke gasped and arched against him. “Zeke, I-” he broke off, groaning, and then he was gone, pulling out entirely and breaking all contact.

Zeke hissed in shock, and then let out a startled yelp as he was bodily flipped over. Crane hooked his arms under Zeke’s knees, pushing up and spreading his legs, making Zeke flush. “What- oh fuck!” Crane pushed back into him, bending to catch Zeke’s mouth, and he moaned against Crane’s lips, parting his own to let Crane’s tongue in. Crane mimicked the thrust of his hips with the thrust of his tongue, and Zeke grabbed onto his shoulders, letting out an undignified squeal against Crane’s mouth.

Crane broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together, snapping his hips forward. They both groaned, and Zeke’s eyes closed; his brain overloaded with warring feelings. The pain was still there, still sharp, but somehow, incredibly, his brain had confused it with something else, and all it managed to do was change the flavor of the intense, blinding pleasure he felt.

Crane opened his eyes and looked down at Zeke; he looked like he was in agony. “I don’t want to hurt you.” he whispered, and licked at Zeke’s mouth. “But I need to move, you feel so good, and I can’t-” he broke off, his hips rocking forward, and Zeke’s grip tightened on his shoulders. “I don’t want to hurt you.” he said again.

“Move.” Zeke told him, astounded at how hoarse he sounded, how breathless he was. “Please, Crane, just…” he swallowed, his throat aching. “Fuck me.” he whispered, almost silent, and met Crane’s eyes. “Please.” he shifted, and Crane bit down on his own lip. Zeke could feel him shaking.

“I don’t want to-”

“Yes you do.” Zeke said, and Crane shuddered. Zeke shifted his hips again, and felt Crane’s fingers dig into his sides. He half smiled; part of him was startled at how he felt. How was it that having Crane inside of him, quaking with need and unable to move for fear of hurting him, would make him feel… powerful? “You do, a little bit.” he leaned up, slipping his tongue into Crane’s mouth, and felt Crane’s teeth nip there. “I don’t mind it.” he assured Crane. “Do it. Fuck me, Crane. Hurt me a little. I want you to.”

Crane groaned, and thrust into Zeke; hard. Zeke let out a half painful moan and arched into the thrust. He did want it, it turned out, and part of him was scared of that. Of the fact that the pain had somehow, somewhere, become a good thing, a thing he wanted just as must as the pleasure. When had that happened? He didn’t know, and soon he didn’t care. Crane slammed into him again, his hands sliding up Zeke’s sides, wrapping around him when he arched off the couch, pulling him against his movements, pushing deeper into Zeke’s body.

Zeke closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the arm of the couch, and felt Crane’s mouth against his throat a moment before his teeth clamped down. He let out a wordless shout, dragging his nails along the line of Crane’s shoulder, and pushed down that awful feeling welling up in him that completely balked at the idea of getting off to this. He was though, and most of him loved it; what was left of the pain was so good it scared him. Crane’s tongue swiped along the spot he’d bitten as he rocked into Zeke again, almost completely supporting his weight, using it to pull Zeke more firmly into the thrust.

“Like that?” Crane asked, practically growled, and did it again. Zeke wrapped his arms more tightly around Crane’s shoulders and rocked his hips in time with Crane’s thrust. Crane teeth left a trail of painful, wonderful bites along Zeke’s neck. “Fuck, Zeke.” he groaned, and shifted backwards, pulling Zeke up as he did, until Zeke was in his lap. He pushed up at the same time Zeke shifted his weight down, and the new position made Zeke’s vision blur. He whimpered loudly, and the sound of Crane’s erratic, growling breaths sent a shiver down his back.

Crane’s hands on his hips, the dig of his fingers there, the brutal, almost too fast pace he set as he slammed into Zeke’s body; Zeke was writhing and moaning loudly, his hands scrabbling down Crane’s back, letting Crane move him. “Oh, God.” he heard Crane hiss. “So good, so tight, oh Zeke, fuck, you feel so… oh.” that last sound was almost a whisper, barely a breath, and then Crane slammed into him so hard Zeke screamed, his orgasm tearing through him, so strong it hurt, and he heard Crane’s shout, felt Crane’s hands spasm on his hips as he climaxed a split second after Zeke.

Zeke shuddered, feeling the sticky warmth against his stomach of his own release, and slumped, his whole body feeling loose and too warm. “Oh my God.” he whispered, letting his forehead drop against Crane’s shoulder.

Crane was panting, and slowly lowered Zeke back down on the couch, sliding out of him with a wince. He trailed his hand down Zeke’s thigh as he pulled away, leaning back. He pressed his hand to his forehead, sounding like he was trying to catch his breath.

“Crane?” Zeke said softly, and watched Crane’s head turn slowly to look at him. “You okay?”

Crane licked his lips and was quiet for a moment. “That,” he said finally, “was fucking awesome.”

Zeke flushed, pleased with himself. He was sore, and tired, and fantastic. He felt great, even considering the ache in his nether parts. He sat up and leaned towards Crane, who mimicked him, leaning forward. He winced, and Zeke frowned. “You okay?” he asked again.

“Yea.” Crane said, nodding. “I didn’t think your nails were that sharp. They’re not long.”

“What-” Zeke realized what he was talking about and turned red. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Crane said, and kissed him. “I’m not.” he brushed Zeke’s hair back from his eyes and smiled. “I say you go shower, and I’ll find snacks. We go lay in bed and watch a movie.”

“Aren’t you tired?” Zeke asked. Crane shook his head. “You’re inhuman.”

“Go shower.” Crane said. “Trust me.” he got off the couch and helped Zeke to his feet. “Come on.”

Zeke showered, and when he came out, Crane was sprawled out on his bed, munching on a bag of pretzels and looking smug. “What?” Zeke asked him, climbing into bed and reaching for the pretzels. He didn’t think he’d be so hungry after something like that, but it had hit him in the shower; he was starving.

Crane shook his head, smirking a little. “I didn’t think you’d be into pain is all.” he said with a shrug. “Being a virgin.”

Zeke flushed. He felt weird about the whole thing, if he was being honest with himself. What had gotten into him? The angry red places where Crane’s hands and dug into him hadn’t helped; seeing them in the mirror while he’d been undressing had sent conflicting waves of emotions through him; something almost like shame, as though it hadn’t been bad enough it was his cousin, a twinge of fear at the idea that someone might see, that there was proof on his body of what they’d done, and a wave of lust, a want to do it all over again.

“I don’t know what that was.” Zeke said honestly, and Crane chuckled. “What?”

“It was great it what it was.” he said. “You were right, too, but I didn’t want to admit.” When Zeke just stared at him. “I did want to hurt you a little. I don’t know why. I just…” he looked thoughtful, and then he leaned forward and placed his hand where it had left those marks on Zeke’s body. He fit his hand against those marks and grinned. “I needed to leave these. Needed to leave evidence.” he sighed and laid back. “This way, you can’t deny it later, when you freak out.”

“I’m not going to freak out.” Zeke told him, and Crane gave him a skeptical look. “I left marks, too.”

Crane chuckled. “Yea, I think I’m going to be wearing mine longer than you’re going to be wearing yours.” he tilted his head. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sore.” Zeke said immediately.

“I meant up here.” Crane said, and tapped Zeke’s forehead with the tip of one finger.

“Oh.” Zeke considered. “I don’t know.” he said honestly, and Crane nodded. When Crane didn’t say anything, Zeke looked away. “What about you?”

Crane was silent for a while. Then, very softly, he said, “I know I’ve wanted you from the moment we saw each other, and that want grew into a need faster than I was ready for.” Zeke bit his lip, enjoying those words more than he wanted to admit. “I know that I want you still, maybe even more now.” Zeke felt Crane’s hand slide along his thigh, barely there, and half smiled to himself. “I know you’re like a drug. The taste of you, the feel of you.” his hand found that mark he’d left again, and tightened there, just enough to remind Zeke of the pain without inflicting it again. It made him a little dizzy. “I know you’re mine.” he said finally, and Zeke turned to look at him. His features were calm, but his eyes were oddly bright. “So long as you know that too, does anything else matter?”

“It’s more than sex.” Zeke said, guessed, and Crane nodded. “Crane, I-”

“Don’t.” Crane shook his head. “You’ll say you don’t know again, I don’t want to hear that.” his tone was not unkind. “Until you know, one way or the other, don’t. Let’s just enjoy this, okay? We’ll talk to each other and fuck like rabbits and just… be. Until you know.”

“Okay, Crane.” Zeke nodded, and bent to kiss Crane softly. “It’s late.”

They curled up together, Crane’s chest to Zeke’s back. Zeke closed his eyes and tried to sleep, tried not to think, to not second guess this. It had happened, there was no denying it, and part of him didn’t even want to bother. Part of him had heard Crane’s words and rejoiced. The rest of him? He wasn’t sure. For now, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to look to closely at any of his motives, any of his feelings other than the ones Crane awoke in him with his lips and hands. It seemed safer that way.

He slept.

When he awoke, it was nearly two in the afternoon and he was alone in bed. He sat up, stretching, hearing his back crack, and looked around. There was a white slip of paper on his bedside table. He picked up and read Crane’s small, perfect handwriting.

It’s noon and you’re showing no signs of waking, so the dogs and I went for walk. When I get home I’ll make lunch and wake you up, and when we’re done eating I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk. -C-

Zeke smiled to himself and climbed out of bed. His legs buckled and he caught the bedside table before he went crashing to the floor. Jesus Christ, he was sore! Wincing, he got himself into a pair of loose shorts and a tee shirt and went upstairs. As he was shutting the basement door the back door opened, and Crane walked in, the dogs following behind him.

“Zeke.” Crane said, and they stared at each other across the kitchen. Crane had a paper bag in his arms. His head tilted slightly to one side, and Zeke saw the look in his eyes; want and affection and wariness. Zeke watched him lick his lips, the movement almost self-conscious. The bolt of lust that slammed through Zeke was so unexpected, so strong, that he gasped.

And then Crane was across the kitchen, dumping the bag onto the table as he went by, his hands wrapping around Zeke’s biceps. He shoved Zeke against the basement door and kissed him hard. Zeke moaned and reached up, yanking the rubber band out of Crane’s hair, ignoring the sound of pain Crane made against his mouth as he buried his fingers into Crane’s hair and pulled him closer, kissing back just as hard. Their tongues twined together, and Crane somehow got them turned around, pushing Zeke back until he hit the kitchen table. Crane’s hands went to his hips, and he whimpered as his fingers dug into the bruised spots there to lift him up.

Somehow he ended up sprawled out on the kitchen table, moaning, as Crane’s mouth attacked his chest, his shirt shoved up under his arms. His hands were still buried Crane’s hair, pulling and urging him downwards, while Crane’s hands slid under the waistband of his shorts.

The front door slammed, and they both froze for a second. Then Crane was gone, halfway across the kitchen, and Zeke launched himself off the table, his face beet red, as Pearl called out, “You guys home?”

“Oh, what a bitch.” Crane whispered, and Zeke bent down to pick up the toppled bag he’d unknowingly knocked off the table. “I’m going to kill her.”

Zeke set the bag half full of vegetables on the counter and started giggling abruptly. Crane shot him a dirty look, and Zeke looked away, snorting laughter. Pearl came swishing into the kitchen.

“Hey, guys.” she said, smiling. She gave her brother a curious look. “You okay, Crane? Look a little flushed.” Zeke clapped his hand over his mouth, still laughing, and Pearl half smiled, looking confused. “What did I miss?” she asked. “What happened to your hair?”

Zeke hunched over, hands against his stomach, roaring laughter. He couldn’t help it. He dealt with anxiety in weird ways, and almost getting caught had scared the hell out of him.

“You are such a spaz.” Crane told him, then turned to his sister. “I thought you were going to Seth’s cabin.”

“He got a call.” she said with a shrug. “Something about his mom. Had to come back.” Pearl turned and smiled at Zeke. “So there’s a party tonight…”

How the hell he got himself into these situations, he’d never know. They’d agreed to go to the party, more to save face than anything else. Seth had picked them up at eight, and the tension in the car was so thick Zeke felt like he couldn’t breathe. When they’d gotten to the party, Pearl and Seth had promptly disappeared. Crane stuck to his side, not speaking. Zeke started drinking, thinking it would calm him down a little; it didn’t. If anything, it made the whole situation worse. He felt like everyone was staring at him, like everyone could somehow see what he and Crane had done. It didn’t make him feel ashamed, it made him angry.

Zeke was on his… he’d lost count… drink when Crane caught his elbow, put his mouth to his ear, and said, “Let’s go find Pearl.” Zeke followed along behind Crane, glaring at anyone who made eye contact. They found Pearl in the kitchen, watching Seth play beer pong. She looked annoyed.

“Crane!” she said happily, smiling and catching his arm. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Looks like it.” Crane said, establishing Zeke by the counter and standing beside him. “What’s up?”

“There’s someone here I want you to meet.” she said, and then turned and waved towards the fridge. “Victor!” she shouted, and a moment later, a tall, skinny, black haired kid was standing next to her. He had a smug, pretty face and eyed Crane carefully, openly leering. Zeke felt his stomach roll, and took a big gulp of his drink. Pearl beamed. “Crane, this is Victor. Victor, my brother Crane.”

Crane shook his hand, looking a little uncomfortable. Victor slid up beside Crane, grinning, and leaned up to say something into Crane’s ear. Zeke watched his cousin’s face carefully, disgusted and furious to see the wariness melt away, to be replaced with a little smile as he nodded along to whatever Victor was saying.

Zeke turned his attention to the game; or at least, he tried to. He kept glancing out of the corner of his eye at his cousins; Pearl, who watched Crane and Victor, looking pleased with herself, and Crane, who was laughing and joking with Victor. Zeke felt like punching him. What. A. Jerk.

“Well, well, well!” a loud, booming voice called out, causing Zeke to choke on his drink. He turned and glared at Mike, who had just strolled in, grinning like an idiot. “If there were any more faggots in this room, it’d look like a gay bar.”

One of the guys Seth was playing with laughed and clapped Mike on the back, and the fat little bastard shot Zeke a sneering look before turning to join the game. Zeke scowled and looked away, wishing he’d stayed home. This was stupid. How could it get any worse?

“You look like you’re having fun.” Pearl said sarcastically, and he shot her a dirty look. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Zeke muttered, and finished off his drink. He turned to set it on the counter, and what he saw sent his entire brain into blind rage mode.

Victor’s hand was on the small of Crane’s back.

Such a simple gesture, a small thing, but it felt like Zeke had been punched in the stomach. He dropped the cup carelessly onto the counter and then slid into the spot beside Crane. “Hey.” he said, surprised that he hadn’t snapped it, simply said it. Crane turned his head to look at him. His eyes were dark, almost angry, but when met Zeke’s eyes, they softened.

Crane bent and pressed his mouth against Zeke’s ear. “If I kick this guy’s ass, will we have to leave?” he asked, and caught Zeke’s earlobe between his teeth before pulling away. Zeke felt way too hot suddenly, and that rage subsided. Crane was just as annoyed as he was. He beckoned, and Crane bent again, half smiling.

“Want to go outside?” he asked, astounded at how slurred his speech was.

Crane moved, putting his mouth to Zeke’s ear one more time. “Do I get to fuck your drunk ass if we go outside?” he asked, and Zeke bit back the urge to simply grab him right then and there.

“I’m not drunk.” Zeke said, loud enough for Pearl to look over at them. “And yes.”

Crane laughed, then nodded and slipped past him. He spoke to Pearl, pointing a finger at Zeke. Pearl nodded, looking annoyed but understanding, then went and spoke to Seth. He handed her his car keys, and she gave them to Crane.

“Come on.” Crane said, taking his elbow and leading him through the kitchen. “I told them you were feeling off, and wanted to get some air and sit down.”

“You want to molest me in Seth’s car.” Zeke said, poking Crane in the ribs. “Admit it.”

“Well, he’d deserve it.” Crane replied, and Zeke laughed. “Now shut up and come with me.”

“Crane!” They both stopped and turned, and Victor caught up with them, smiling. He put his arm around Crane’s waist. “Why not ditch him, then we can go somewhere a little more-”

“No.” Crane said firmly. “Go away.”

Victor looked startled, and Crane turned away and pulled Zeke along with him.

When they got outside, Zeke took a deep breath, feeling better. “I’m drunk.” he said, and Crane shot him a ‘no-shit-Sherlock’ look that made Zeke giggle. “God, you’re so cute.” he said, and reached up to tug Crane’s ponytail.

“In the car.” Crane said, pulling him down the stairs and across the lawn. “Now.”

“Forceful.” Zeke quipped, and leaned against the side of the car to watch Crane unlock the door. He reached out and slid his fingers under Crane’s shirt, hooking them into his belt. “Come here.”

“If someone sees us-” Crane muttered, but stepped towards Zeke anyway. “We shouldn’t.”

Zeke rolled his eyes. “Put it on the list.” he said dismissively. “Kiss me.”

Crane bent his head, brushing his lips softly against Zeke’s. “Get in the car.” he said, and opened the door to the backseat. Zeke snorted and did so, crawling into the car.

“We can’t have sex.” Zeke slurred as he got himself sitting the right way in the backseat. “It’s too small in here, and besides that I’m still sore, so you’ll have to-”

The car rocked, and the door shut, and Zeke turned his head. Crane grabbed a handful of Zeke’s hair and pulled him forward by it, crushing their mouths together. Zeke opened his mouth when he felt Crane’s tongue against his lips, his hands bunching in the front of Crane’s shirt. Crane held his head steady with the handful of hair he had, his other hand dropping to his own belt and pulling it open. He broke the kiss, leaving Zeke gasping.

“You let him touch you.” Zeke said abruptly, and Crane stopped. “Why?”

“Who?” Crane asked, then rolled his eyes. “One, he touched my back, for a split second before you turned and saw.” he arched his eyebrows and tugged gently on the hair he had Zeke by. “Two, I thought you said you didn’t-”

“Mine.” Zeke said firmly, and Crane closed his mouth. Zeke leaned forward and brushed their lips together. “I was being stupid. Ignore that. You’re mine. I want you, and I don’t want people touching my stuff.”

“Jealous much?” Crane asked, and smiled. He pulled Zeke into his lap. “Say it again.”

“You’re mine.” Zeke said softly, and slipped his hand down Crane’s stomach to the already open front of his jeans. “I want you.” he leaned forward and placed a nipping kiss over Crane’s pulse, making him gasp softly. “All mine.” he said again, and his fingers found their way into Crane’s jeans, brushing against his erection. “Mine, mine, mine.” he couldn’t seem to stop saying it now, and wondered vaguely why it’d been so hard to say before. He wrapped his fingers around Crane’s cock and stroked, loving the sound Crane made, the way his head fell back against the seat, his eyes closing. He found it so easy to set the right pace, to move his hand the right way, and Crane grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him forward to kiss him.

He squeezed gently, and Crane moaned into his mouth, his other hand going to Zeke’s hip, tracing the line of his jeans with one finger before sliding down and cupping his ass. Zeke rocked back into his hand a little, liking the way it made his own cock grind against Crane’s thigh, and soon he was rocking in Crane’s lap, his hand moving quickly in Crane’s jeans, and they were both panting against each other. Crane came first, letting out a half strangled, “Oh, fuck, Zeke.” before exploding into Zeke’s hand. He grabbed Zeke by the hips, and the little thrill of pain from those fingers digging into the bruises made Zeke moan and drop his forehead against Crane’s chest. He rocked his hips, grinding almost painfully against Crane’s leg, and without really thinking about it, lifted his hand and licked his fingers.

The taste of Crane sent him over the edge, and he made a muffled whimpering sound as he came. Crane kissed the top of his head as he sat there, letting his breath return to normal. He sat up slowly, sliding off of Crane’s lap, wincing at the sticky feeling at the front of his jeans. “Well… damnit.” he muttered, and Crane chuckled. “Can we go home now?” he asked.

“Yes.” Crane nodded. “I can call a cab.”

“Okay.”

“Stay here.” Crane said, and kissed him before getting out of the car and going back up to the house. Zeke leaned his head back, closing his eyes, and absently wiped his hand on the carpet beneath the front passenger seat. It wasn’t until he had finished doing it and gone back to being annoyed at himself for the wet spot on his jeans that he realized what he’d done. He snorted laughter, his face red, and shook his head.

“Oh, that’s messed up.” he whispered to himself, and got out of the car. The air was so much cooler outside than in, and it felt nice on his flushed skin. He sat on the trunk of the car until Crane came outside. He said he’d let Pearl know that Zeke wasn’t feeling good, and that they were going home.

It wasn’t until they were in the cab that Zeke thought to tell Crane about what he’d done. Crane laughed all the way home.

Once there, Crane put him in bed. All the drinking was really catching up with him, and he felt dizzy and a little sick. Crane made him drink two big glasses of water and take aspirin before he’d let Zeke lay down. Then he locked the basement door, got into bed with Zeke, and put on a movie. Zeke had no interest in the movie; he just wanted to sleep. So he put his arm around Crane’s waist, pressing his face against his side, and closed his eyes.

All in all, it wasn’t too bad of a party.

When he woke up the next morning, he wasn’t half as hung over as he thought he’d be. Crane was asleep beside him, his hair spread out on the pillow, that stern, cool look he always wore gone. Zeke propped himself up on his elbows and studied his cousin, smiling to himself. Eventually, Crane woke up, turning his head slowly to regard Zeke with slightly unfocused eyes.

“Hey.” Zeke said, twining a strand of Crane’s hair around his fingers.

“Hey.” Crane replied, yawning. “How’re you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“Hungry?”

“Maybe.” he thought about it. “Coffee sounds good.”

“Mmhmm.” Crane said, wrapping his arms around Zeke’s neck and pulling him into a loose, comfortable hug. “Give me a minute.” he said, making Zeke smile. “You feel nice.” Crane told him, trialing his hand down Zeke’s back. “When’s your mother due home?” he asked.

Zeke thought about it. “Later tonight.” he said.

Crane sighed. “So no more sleeping together?” he asked, and Zeke opened his mouth. “I mean really sleeping together, not having sex. We can have sex still. I just…” he stopped, scowling. “I don’t want to run the risk of getting caught.”

“The basement door locks.” Zeke reminded him. “We just have to be careful.”

“You sure?”

Zeke sat up. “Crane, if I could spend all day in bed with you, and not have to think about school or a job or eating or bed sores, I would. Having a house full of prejudiced family members isn’t going to stop me from this. I like sleeping with you. It’s comforting. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Fair enough.” Crane smiled. “Come here.”

“Go brush your teeth first.” Zeke suggested, and got out of bed. “I’ll go make coffee.”

Upstairs, he got the coffee pot going and sat down at the table, yawning. He was surprised at how good he felt, after all that drinking. He wondered if Pearl had come home.

He sat there, waiting for coffee, waiting for Crane, and went over the last couple of days in his head. The whole thing seemed surreal, so completely off the regular, then when he really stopped and took a step back, he couldn’t really believe it without forcibly reminding himself of what had happened. He stood up and went into the hallway bathroom, not bothering to shut the door or turn on the light. The window was light enough.

He hesitated, then pulled his shirt off. His breath caught in his throat. The hand shaped bruises on his hips were purple and yellow, the bites and hickies that went from the collar of his shirt all the way down to his chest were numerous, and most of them were huge. He ran his hand along one of the bruises on his hip, astounded at the little rush of lust he felt at the sight of them. What had happened to him? He barely felt like himself anymore.

Unsettled, he pulled his shirt back on over his head and went back into the kitchen. Pearl was standing at the counter, glaring at the coffee pot. He hadn’t heard her come down. “Hey.” he said, and she turned, looking pale. “How’d the party go?”

“Ugh.” she said, and he smiled. “My head hurts.”

“Aspirin’s in the last cupboard by the sink.” Seth said from behind Zeke, making him jump. He turned his head and saw the look on Seth’s face; it confused him. Why did he look so angry? “Can I talk to you, Zeke?” he asked, and Zeke, a little dumbstruck, followed him into the living room. Seth stood there, just staring at him, for a long time.

Zeke, fidgeting, finally, sighed and gestured his hand. “What, Seth?” he asked. “We’re here, so talk.”

Seth folded his arms. “You want to tell me who left all those bruises on you?” Seth asked.