a The Faculty story

by dirty diana

Zeke/Casey/Delilah, written for Molly in the Yuletide New Years Resolutions Challenge 2004. Beta by the fabulous Inalasahl.

"Fuck, Zeke," Delilah moans into Zeke's mouth, soft and wet.

"Yeah?" His hand slides further underneath her skirt, expensive black panties falling to the floor. "Not so irredeemable after all?"

"Big words, for someone who's failing senior English again." Delilah's words come in between short pants, her hips grinding against him, his fingers digging harder. She slides wet around his fingers.

"I'm just a victim of a neglected and under-funded school system," he tells her. He's practised that one. "What about you, baby? What are you a victim of?"

Casey is taking pictures of the football team from the first row of the bleachers, snapping on long lenses and zooming in on the field.

"Hey, Case. Time for my close up?"

Casey looks over at Zeke, and looks away. "Where's Ms. Burke?"

"We broke up," Zeke says, and that's not weird because nothing is weird, the school got invaded by aliens, he broke up with the English teacher, so what?

"That's what I thought," Casey says, and Zeke doesn't even bother to wonder about that, if Casey's been watching him. Taking pictures, maybe, with his camera. Casey says, "You like Delilah, right?"

"What?" Zeke doesn't know where that came from. But Casey says it calmly, like he's been thinking about it. "Delilah Proffit? The queen of Sweet Valley High? Please. She's not my type."

"Not what I asked," Casey says. Snap, snap, click.

"Seriously, Case, that's not my style. Stealing someone else's girl, that's a little predictable, don't you think? Like a bad movie."

"We broke up," Casey says, and that's news to Zeke. Casey has finished taking pictures, putting his camera away. "You should ask her out."

Zeke smirks, finishing his cigarette and tossing the butt on the ground, about a minute left until the coach catches him slacking off. "So you're not here to tell me to stay away from her?"

Casey shrugs. Then he looks right at Zeke, bright clear eyes too large in his face. It's a surprise, because Casey hardly ever does that, look right at someone. "That would be a little predictable, don't you think?"

Casey's camera sighs and clicks, inside Zeke's parents' messy kitchen that smells like sex now. Zeke doesn't have to see him to be able to feel him, just out of frame. He's got them now, frozen in real time, skin and sweat.

Casey moves. Zeke can see him now, climbing up on the kitchen counter, zoom lens down Delilah's half-open shirt, hard brown nipples peaking inside the fabric. He's half-hard, erection straining in his pants, and he barely seems to notice. He's focused on the camera in his hands, an extension of himself, click.

Delilah simply laughs at him. "What? Why?"

"Because Casey said we should." He takes just a little pleasure in watching her expression fall. 

"Sure he did," she says finally.

"Course he did. You think I would come up with this shit on my own?"

"That's great, Zeke. You need to work on your sweet talk." Now she is walking away from him, loudly in heels. "Pick me up at eight. And don't tell anyone."

It is Zeke's turn to laugh. "You dated Casey for six months. Now you're worried about your rep?"

Delilah just looks at him like he doesn't understand anything. "Casey's just a geek. You're a loser."

"Is that right?" he asks, a shallow smile hitting his eyes.

"Yes. You're completely unsalvageable. Don't be late."

Delilah didn't put her contacts in today, face bare except for the hair that is falling into her face. Zeke knows that he is just a blur to her right now, gasping breath sounds and musky sweat scent.

Her thighs wrap around him, as his fingers move against her. He enters her with one movement, Delilah moaning and bucking against the counter. He fucks her hard, and she returns every thrust, ruthless. His fingers press hard into the curve of her ass, one hand on the counter for balance, rocking as he moves inside her. He can still feel Casey watching them, without looking up.

Delilah lets him fuck her in his car, in the back seat with her skirts pulled up around her waist. Zeke thinks she looks better like that, clothes disheveled and her hair in her face, flushed across her throat.

"Was this really Casey's idea?" she asks as she pulls her nylons up over smooth thighs.

Zeke rolls down the window, and lights a cigarette. "Yeah."

"Fucking Casey," Delilah says, and Zeke can't tell how she means that, if she's pissed off or satisfied.

"Yeah," Zeke says again.

She glances at him, a knowing look. "You should just do him, you know. Get it over with."

"Yeah?" Zeke asks, not crawling away from the thought. Zeke has never been afraid of anything in the theoretical. "He seems like he'd be, I don't know. Shy."

Delilah laughs low. "Yeah, he makes it worth the work though. He likes it..."

"Likes it what?" Zeke asks, but Delilah just shakes her head. 

"It's late," she says. "Take me home."

Zeke and Delilah are both breathless when they come. Their bodies stick together, skin glistening and damp with sweat. Zeke's attention shifts immediately, and he fixes his gaze on Casey, standing not quite close enough to touch. "Casey, he says hoarsely. "Come here."

Casey doesn't react right away, click click.

"Casey, put down the fucking camera and come here." He's still struggling to catch his breath, hands in Delilah's hair.

He does put down the camera then, and looks at him, and it's still such a shock when Casey does that, stares right at him. "You come here," he says slowly.

"Jesus," Zeke says, moves forward and grabs him. Zeke presses his naked body against him, and slides his hands underneath Casey's clothes.

"I took your advice."

Casey stares at him for too long, until Zeke's full meaning falls into place. "Good," he says finally.

"You should have come along," Zeke says, and he doesn't know what the fuck makes him say that, except the desire to see if Casey really is as close to crumbling as he always seems, to see if he'll collapse right there in the cafeteria, little pieces of rain that they'll have to sweep up off the floor. "You could have taken pictures. For posterity."

"Yeah," Casey says, and gets up like he's leaving.

Zeke grabs his wrist, finger digging into skin that's so thin he can almost see through it, not letting go. "Maybe next time."

Casey stares at him, and he stares until Zeke releases his grasp, and then he shrugs. "Whatever."

"How are you doing?" Zeke asks him softly, a whisper on his skin. Casey just shudders, underneath his hands. Zeke leans forward and kisses him, devouring him. "What do you want? Want this?"

His hands slide into Casey's pants, and Casey nods. He's shaking. "Make me...make me come."

"What do you say, Case?"

Casey closes his eyes, breathing in sharply. "Please."

Delilah crawls up behind Casey, pushes against him, breasts pressed into his back. She likes this too, listening to Casey fall apart. Casey is making almost no noise now, just a hitched, sped-up breathing, trembling hard as Zeke jerks him off. 

Zeke's tongue in Casey's mouth almost matches the rhythm of his fingers, closed tight around Casey's swollen cock. Casey is making small gasping breathing sounds, soft, not loud the way that he does when Zeke fucks him. Zeke thinks that maybe he will do that later, undress Casey and fuck him, face down in the mattress.

Suddenly Casey breaks from Zeke's kiss. He gasps, eyes flying wide open in surprise. Zeke knows that Delilah has one finger inside him now, stroking him carefully. He watches her, face intent as she watches Casey. Zeke's strokes speed up, fast and feverish.

"Like this?" Zeke asks him.

"Yes," Casey whispers. When he comes, it's like he's falling, out of Zeke's reach.

"Didn't I tell you not to tell anyone?"

They're in his car again, Delilah reapplying her lipstick in a compact mirror. "I didn't," Zeke says.

"You told Casey."

"That doesn't count."

She shrugs, smudging the violent colour with one finger, getting what he means.

"He's still in love with you," Zeke says.

"You think so?" she asks, but not as if she really cares, both of them talking to each other while staring straight ahead.

"Yeah. Poor sucker."

Delilah laughs. He hates the sound of her laughter, hates it but he's getting used to it. "What about you? Who do you love?"

Zeke shakes his head, he doesn't love anyone. Love is just a chemical reaction, like getting high, and he's too smart for that shit. He doesn't love Casey, Casey and his camera and his scared blue eyes that see every fucking thing. And he certainly doesn't love Delilah, Delilah who knows how to play every bullshit game ever invented. Delilah, who will fuck him in his car every night, as long as he doesn't tell anyone.


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