Title: Swinging Henrys (1/?)
Fandom: The Faculty
Characters: Casey / Zeke
Disclaimer: not mine, of course
A big, big 'Thank you' toaliensouldream for organizing this again. You are a real gem for our Fandom.
Zeke smiled at the pretty guy who put the tacos and his beer onto the bar counter. He felt as relaxed as it was possible on a day like today. Maybe visiting this club hadn't been the worst idea. While just everyone in Columbus seemed to get crazy with Halloween this place was like a sanctuary for silence and relaxation. Here he wouldn't run into some stupid freaks nor a familiar face from work. No one he knew would expect to meet him at one of the most favorite gay clubs in town.
He had been seventeen and always looking for a new kick when he ended at a gay bar for the first time. Though he was not what one could call 'gay'. He was a wild boy who gave a shit about parents, teachers, rules. No party, no club was safe from him. No weekend without a pretty girl in his bed - sometimes even two. Being together with another guy was new and exciting. But soon enough he realized that visiting the cheap gay bars near Herrington was not what he wanted. These bars were too loud and crowded, he didn't like it when guys in tight leather outfits or dressed up as the worlds next drag queen tried to hit on him. So he had stopped visiting them ...
... until now.
Everyone in town was talking about this new club, an exclusive one and no one seemed to know what exactly was going on behind its dark, almost invisible entrance. Not everyone got permission to get in ... and the few lucky ones never talked about it. What had lad him here today was beyond Zeke. All he had wanted was to relax after a much too long, annoying workday. One beer or two. Nothing more.
Nowadays he liked things slower. He had left his wild times behind. After his dissertation he had found a job in the research, well-paid and secure. He had a relationship with a nice girl which lasted for almost a year now. Sometimes he even started to think about marriage and children. They had planed to spend this weekend together, with a good DVD and some wine, but when you share you life with a popular TV-reporter you had to learn soon enough to cut back your own interests. Usually he could handle it but not today, after this stupid almost-fight with this smart ass of junior manager who had no clue about the whole material but acted as if he were Mr. Knowitall.
It had left him worn out and questioning his job ... even his whole life ... like he often did lately when he was alone. Where were all his dreams gone? He had been a rebel, wildly resolved to subdue the world. Nowadays? Was he really on the best way to change into someone he had always despised ... his father?
Zeke took the first sip from his Heineken and looked around. Not what you would expect in an extraordinary club. He was sitting at the long wooden bar counter. It was almost dark inside here. Real candles on the tables and the counter, faked ones at the walls. Big, red leather couches in the booths. Sparkling luster at the ceiling. No mirrors, no flickering lights, no loud club music. A band was playing modern jazz. At the small dance floor only a few couples, moving to the slow music, oblivious about everything around.
Suddenly Zeke felt a sense of delight rushing through him. Yes, this was the place he had been looking for for such a long time. He had already felt it in the moment he had entered the lobby. Though the paper full of rules he had to sign before he was allowed to enter should have been deterring. He had always hated rules ... and rules in club like this? Have fun, but stay decent. No open shirts or cut off t-shirts. Stay dressed all the time while you are in the open area. Flirting is okay, but no touching without permission. No hard drugs. No cameras.
The last sentence had made him smile: No yelling and loud crying, no vulgar language as if you were at a monster truck rally ... though we love those, this is just not our club's style!!!
A lot of rules for a club but at least the owners had a good sense of humor.
The low voice made him almost jump. Only a second before he had been the only one at the bar counter, he hadn't noticed him taking place at the bar stool beside him.
"You are new here, aren't you?"
Almost against his will Zeke turned around and there he was. One of the most fascinating guys he had ever met. His breath slowed down almost into nothing. It was hard to avert his gaze from him.
He was not sure if he had said it loud or just thought it. His mouth felt dry. This was ridiculous. What was wrong with him? The guy smiled ... a smile which made him even more dizzy.
"I'm Henry," he said.
"The owner of this club. You like?"
"No! I need to go!"
Wait ... that was wrong, wasn't it? He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay here. He belonged to Henry ...
Zeke coughed surprised. What the fuck ... All he wanted was a beer. He wasn't looking for a quick one night stand. Even if Henry looked good ... with his shoulder-length dark hair and deep-brown eyes, his red, soft shirt that hid an obviously shapely body he wasn't even his type. He preferred them smaller, not so perfect ... had preferred them. This was history. He had a girl friend ... a new life ... couldn't hardly remember the last time he had been with a guy ... ages ago ...
Henry was still talking to him, this lips were moving. Zeke felt as if he was in a haze but forced a smile onto his face. Henry didn't seem to notice his uneasiness.
"C'mon, I'm gonna show you around. You will like what you see. Everything here is made just for you!"
Though the voice deep inside still warned him Zeke slipped from the bar stool to follow him.
The second room of the club. It was a modern one, with a long bar counter and a great dance floor. A DJ was playing the newest club music. Loud, but not that loud that it made your ears ring and you needed to read lips when you wanted to have a conversation. And the guys who were already on the dance floor or sitting at the bar with a Whiskey or a Cocktail in front of them ... It was not a big surprise that the audience was not so young than in others clubs. A college student could not afford the fee you had to pay to get in here. But it was worth it. Everywhere you could feel the great ambiance of the club, special and full of erotic, but in a discreet way.
The tour of the club went on. At the end they reached the more private area. For those who wanted a bit more than just dancing and flirting. Two stages. Slow music. A few guys who were dancing for the audience. Pretty boys. Perfect bodies. Alluring movements. Zeke watched for a while, unable to look away. Again, his whole body was buzzing with excitement.
"We have separees."
Henry's voice was warm and soft.
"You can book them for a dance. And they will show you things you've never seen before!"
To Zeke's own surprise he felt the heat rushing into his groin. He groaned with desire. But this was not what he wanted. He never paid for a guy, neither a girl, seducing body or not. Never did, never would!
"Maybe later," he murmured.
And he forced his eyes away from the dancers, from Henry. He was trembling, unable to move. His mind tried hard to catch a clear idea. Something was going terribly wrong here. Had he ever felt that vulnerable and weak before? He turned to the lobby ... ready to leave this place, to leave Henry behind ... before it was too late. Too late for what?
"The next drink is on the house," Henry said and smiled. Against his will Zeke followed him.
"Our special tonight, 'Bloody shot.' Enjoy yourself."
Half an hour later he was still sitting at the bar, alone, the empty glass in front of him.
"One more, please."
Bloody shot. Usually he didn't drink cocktails but this one was unexpected good. Deep red, a bitter taste, viscid. The name fit.
Eagerly Zeke grabbed for the drink. He couldn't get it any more what had been wrong with him. He felt better than ever before. His eyes wandered back to the dance floor. He had never been a great dancer but there was this guy who made him smile. He was small and slender, his hair a bit too long. But with his tight, black jeans which hugged his ass provokingly and this white shirt - it was almost see-through and showed off more than it hid - he was a real eye-catcher.
But this was not that what had drawn his attention to him. He looked somehow familiar. Though the boy he remembered had been an awkward little nerd who tried to hide behind much too wide jeans and stupid, checked shirts. Not that it had helped him in the slightest. He had been an easy target for the jock's cruelties. No one had taken him serious, especially not after this one autumn day.
Zeke would always remember how much the whole school, even the teachers, had laughed about him, when he showed up after lunch and told them, that he had found a larva of an alien. Of course, no one had believed him ... except of this one girl, the lesbian ... what was her name again? He could barely remember her. But he would always remember ... Casey. How incredible great his eyes had been when their teacher, Mr. Furlong, had told him that his alien was only a exceptionally large exemplar of an earthworm. It had been the first time that he had noticed them.
Lost in his thoughts Zeke watched the guy on the dance floor, how he moved with the music, alone, not always with the rhythm, but oblivious to everyone who was watching him. Zeke was quite sure that he had closed his eyes to block out the world around him.
His eyes. Would they be blue, bluer than blue? Like Casey's eyes? He could remember them as if it would have been yesterday. They had nothing in common but a few classes they shared. But after that autumn day Zeke had started to keep an eye on him ... secretly, of course. He had a rep to loose and what he felt for Casey could never be.
Zeke felt almost disappointed when the guy finally left the dance floor. But then he came over to the bar counter and slid on a stool near Zeke's.
"Hello, John," he said.
"Good evening, Casey," the barkeeper answered, a wide smile on his face. He put a great bottle of mineral water and a glass onto the counter in front of him.
"The same as usual, I guess?!"
Zeke stared at them, feeling numb. The guy, Casey, stretched and smiled. Zeke saw his lips moving, but he didn't hear a word coming out. Casey?! This voice. This smile. But Casey had left Herrington, Ohio even, years ago. After graduation he went to an Art College somewhere in California and Zeke had never seen him again. It was all his imagination. Herrington's greatest geek couldn't be here in one of the most popular gay clubs of Columbus.
In this moment the young man turned his head, their eyes met. He paled in an instant, his eyes wide open and full of horror. Zeke couldn't hold back a grin. Welcome back, history. No matter how much he had changed, he still acted like the good old geek from Herrington High.
"Hey," he said.
"So you're back in Ohio, huh?"
Casey gasped for air.
"What ... what are you doing here?"
"The same as you, I guess," laughed Zeke.
"There are not much places in Columbus tonight where you can escape this stupid Halloween stuff."
Casey's face darkened even more.
"You don't know what you're doing," he snapped.
"You mean because 'Swinging Henry's' is one of the most popular gay club's in Columbus at the moment? I've done worse, believe me!"
"You can't stay!"
Casey narrowed his eyes.
"You are not gay! You never was!"
"Half of the female population of Herrington. You had your fun with almost every girl from school."
Zeke turned back to the bar counter for another sip of his cocktail. He chuckled inwardly. Now this was fun.
Quick as a flash Casey bent forward and grabbed for Zeke's glass.
"You shouldn't drink this," he hissed.
Zeke stared at him confused while the barkeeper suddenly looked up.
"Something wrong here," he asked.
His voice was calm as before but the dark undertone was unmistakable. A chill was running down Zeke's spine ... and he knew, Casey could feel it to. He stiffened but forced a smile onto his face.
"Nothing serious," Casey reassured the barkeeper.
"But I guess Mr. Turner here needs a taxi to go home."
The barkeeper nodded.
"Sure. Just a moment, I will make the call."
When he turned to the phone, Casey put his hand onto Zeke's arm.
"Please! Don't ask. Just leave this club!"
Before Zeke could respond, he felt it. The strange, almost scaring feeling and he was not able just to shook it off. Slowly he turned his head and there he was. He was standing in the darkness near the entrance. It was nearly impossible to notice the almost invisible figure but Zeke knew it was him. Henry. And he was watching him. With eyes dark and sparkling and with a knowing smile on his lips. Zeke's breath quickened.
"But he don't want me to leave," he murmured.
Casey's head jerked around.
"Oh god. Don't tell me that you've already talked with him?!"
Zeke slid from his bar stool before he could think about it.
"I need to go."
"No! Zeke! Talk to me."
He knew, someone was talking to him. Who was it? What did he say? It didn't matter anyway. Henry was calling him. He couldn't stay.
Suddenly a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Annoyed he jerked around. Could barely remember who this slender, young man beside him actually was. But these eyes ... Casey's eyes. He hesitated. He wanted to stay with him. He wanted to fuck him. He wanted to make him cry ...
He felt a stabbing pain behind his eyes and cringed, searched for hold onto the bar counter.
"You can't fuck around with my mind. I know what you are doing. Let him go!"
Casey's voice. Wildly resolved like he had never heard him before. Zeke smiled. Good. The boy had finally learned to stand up for himself. Then the voice was back in his head.
"He can't give you what I'm offering you, Zeke. You know that!"
And he started to lose control again. His mind was buzzing. He wanted to stay, he needed to go. Casey. Henry. Henry. Casey. 'Stay here!' 'No! Come with me!' 'I'm gonna give you ...' 'You don't want to ...' 'Relax, Zeke, and everything will be okay.' 'Run, Zeke, run!' His head was about to burst. He started to sway and knew he would pass out in the next moment. It was too much ...
The next he did realise were two arms around his hips, holding him. Fingers stroking over his back, up to his neck. A hand grabbed him, pulled him forward. A small body crashed into him. Hot lips met his. A tongue found it's way into his mouth.
Henry's voice in his head. Demanding, almost angry. Casey's lips. Hot, rough, greedy. Casey Connor was kissing him. The world was turned around. He was caught in a dream ... a nightmare ...
"You can't change it any more, Zeke. Don't fight me!"
He sighed and wanted to free himself out of Casey's arms. He hold him even more tight, not willing to let him go. The kiss deepened ... as if this was possible. He was drowning. He would die. He didn't mind. This was what he always had been looking for. Casey Connor ...
He stumbled and groaned. Kill him! Kill Casey Connor! He tried hard to fight down the urge to put his hands around Casey's throat, to squeeze all the breath out of him him ... no ... nooo ... his hands were moving as if on its own will ... with the last bit of remaining strange he pushed him away.
"Run, Casey," he whispered.
But he didn't. He stared at him with wide opened eyes, his voice slightly trembling.
"Come with me, please. I'm gonna give you the best night of your life!"
Zeke coughed surprised. What was going on here? He needed a moment to remember. Halloween. The club. Henry. Music. Dancing. Casey. Henry wanted him to stay. But Casey had kissed him and promised him the best night of his life.
"That's an interesting way to ask someone for a date," he chuckled, still feeling weak and confused.
"Good! You're still with me!"
Casey breathed out slowly, looking relieved. He grabbed for his hand, his grip so hard that it almost hurt.
"Let's split! Don't ask. Just trust me!"
Zeke tried to protest, when Casey pushed him toward the entrance without even giving him a chance to grab his coat. It was a new one with cashmere, he had bought it just a few weeks ago and the price had been immodestly high. But then he felt two dark, piercing eyes. Seething with rage. It was a relief when the door closed behind them.