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rainbowfic2016-05-22 07:18 pm
auguris) wrote in rainbowfic2016-05-22 07:18 pm
Blood Red 10, Dirt Brown 18, Summertime Blues 14
Name: auguris
'verse: The Underground
Story: June 2002
Colors: Blood Red 10. defenestration, Dirt Brown 18. Plough, Summertime Blues 14. Day just like the last.
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Seed Beads, Graffiti: Intense Cuddling
Word Count: 3390
Rating: R for sexual content
Summary: Zeke makes a new friend and learns of a problem.
June 2002
Zeke let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting inside Kurt's Cafe. Black and white photos adorned well-aged wood paneling above blue-cushioned booths. A number of smaller tables filled the space between the wall and the bar. The menu listed an impressive assortment of coffee liqueurs, including a few one normally didn't see this side of the Divide. The barkeep eyed him before attending to a couple at the bar; the woman dressed in attire more appropriate for high-end dining, while her male companion likely hadn't even showered after a full day at the ranch.
A young man, barely a man at all, sat alone on the far end of the bar. Zeke tilted his head; an intense nervousness radiated from him, almost fear. Zeke sat near him, leaving one empty stool between them. He ordered Kona Gold, not out of preference but because it had gold in the name, and waited. His soon-to-be companion sported a blue plaid button up shirt and jeans; his sandy-blond hair swept back. Peach skin sun-kissed to a light brown and blue-green eyes like the shallows off the Bahamas. Zeke took a deep, slow breath.
"You look nervous, son," Zeke said, corner of his mouth twitching upwards.
Sandy-hair jumped, staring at Zeke a moment before he offered a response. "I'm supposed to meet someone. She's. Uh. Late." He glanced down at his half-empty glass. His nervous aura smoothed into a plea: Save me. From Zeke? Or from the young lady he was to meet?
"Your lady usually late?"
"She's not my lady, uh, my girlfriend." The kid swallowed. "We're on a date. A blind date. Sort of. I mean we went to school together, but we didn't know each other or anything."
Zeke took a risk: "I have a hard time believin' a young, strapping lad like you needs help finding a date."
Said strapping lad blushed to his ear-tips. Bingo. "I uh, haha. Thanks. I guess I just. Have trouble with women." He downed the rest of his glass in one go. Zeke watched him swallow, pushing down the urge to run his fingers down the lad's throat. Not yet.
He tapped the bar. "Two whiskeys, on the rocks." He smiled at his new friend. "You look like you could use something stronger. I'm Zeke."
"Cole." His blue-green eyes sparkled when he turned to Zeke. "Thanks."
When the drinks arrived Zeke dipped his finger into Cole's glass; it wasn't a compulsion, that was cheating. He used to do that, blunder his way through sex and romance like the Minotaur in a china shop, but that grew boring a long time ago. This was just a little nudge, to get the kid to open up.
"My folks say I'm too old to be unhitched," Cole told his sipped whiskey. A sip was enough. "My sister set me up with this chick. Mona. But I'm not. I can't." He shook his head and took another sip. "I don't want to get married to..."
Zeke moved over while Cole was staring into his drink. Their thighs brushed together and Cole swallowed again. "What about school? You're the right age to head off to university."
Cole shook his head. "There's no money for it. Besides, my folks, they want me to stay home, work on the ranch. Take over the family business, you know? I can't even go to Dallas. I can't go anywhere. Ever."
Anger overrode the nervousness; instead of thumping the table or shouting or whatnot, Cole's eyes watered. Zeke touched his knee with a fingertip, careful. "You want to get some air?" Cole nodded, and Zeke left a handful of bills on the counter. More than the drinks were worth; the first twenty told the barkeep to forget the both of them, and the second twenty reinforced the notion. It didn't always work, that sort of trickery sat outside his wheelhouse, but the money itself might be enough to keep the man quiet. If not, well, they wouldn't be in town long regardless.
They ended up in Zeke's car, windows cracked and radio tuned to a local alt-rock station. Zeke preferred operas, always would, but it put Cole at ease.
"Tell me why you're so set on planning your life around your parents." His hand squeezed Cole's knee; another nudge, stronger than the drink. Easier, with all that drink in the lad.
"They're my parents," Cole whispered. "They raised me. They gave me life. How can I go against what they want? How can they be wrong?"
Zeke sighed. Cole was so, so young. One night wasn't going to fix this. "It's your life, Cole. You get to decide how to live it. If they can't be proud of you for succeeding, not matter how you find that success, then they're in the wrong. You can't let them hold you back from the life you want to live." He leaned in. "The desires you deserve to indulge in."
Cole hiccuped and crossed his arms. "But you're supposed to honor your parents."
"Says who?"
Cole wrapped his arms tighter. "Jesus."
Zeke couldn't help it: he laughed. "How do you know that? Because it's in some old book, right? Has Jesus ever come down and told you to your face to retard your own damn life because your parents are afraid of change?"
Cole cried in earnest, now. But he didn't leave. "No."
"And has Jesus told you," Zeke said slowly, moving his hand back to Cole's knee, "that man shouldn't lie with man? Or just your old book?"
Cole started, glistening eyes wide. "How did you-- you can't tell anyone, please, you can't--"
"Oh sweetheart," Zeke murmured. He stroked Cole's hair. "I'm the last person to out anyone. I know how dangerous the truth can be, in the wrong hands."
Cole closed his eyes, tears forced down his cheeks. Zeke caught them. "How did you know?"
"You don't get upset when I flirt with you. It's all right, it's all right. Hush. Listen. I have a room at a half-way decent hotel down the road. To hell with Mona, come with me."
Cole swallowed, and this time Zeke indulged himself and kissed the lad's neck. Cole made a deep, desperate noise. "Okay. Okay. Let's go."
*
Cole lay curled next to Zeke, his head over Zeke's heart. Zeke caressed Cole's hair absently, his other arm behind his head. Cole pulled the sheets up to his shoulder.
"Cold?"
"No, it's just... we're naked," Cole murmured.
Zeke chuckled. "I was inside of you a few minutes ago." Cole's ears went pink. "You're adorable."
"Hey," Cole said, but he didn't sound upset. "I don't... do this... much."
That had been obvious, but Zeke had never been put off by inexperience. At his age, there were very few who could match his experience in much of anything. "Your family doesn't approve."
"They don't know. They can't." Cole pressed his face into Zeke's chest. "They would never speak to me again."
Zeke pulled Cole up so they lay face to face and wrapped his arms around the young man. "I'm sorry."
"They're going to be so pissed when Mona tells them I wasn't there." Cole sighed against Zeke's neck.
"If Mona ever showed," Zeke pointed out.
"I shouldn't have done this," Cole murmured. "I mean, I, I liked it. A lot. But I have to go back, and I have to lie to them, and I have to apologize to Mona and take her out somewhere nice and get married and have three or four kids. I have to."
"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?" Cole didn't answer. Zeke reached under the sheets and cupped Cole's bottom. Cole shivered, but didn't pull away.
Zeke had been on his own for... hell, he couldn't remember how long. After awhile years lost meaning. He'd spent a few decades sailing with his brother, finding a port in every harbor; eventually he craved land and set off on his own, traveling across six continents and countless countries. He had toyed with the idea of finding more of his people, but it was getting harder to gather close, with so much of the world populated. Mostly he moved on, collected post cards for his first wife, and found warmth with those who needed a little warmth themselves.
He could settle down, for awhile. Cole was young, and if taken care of he could live a long life. Zeke didn't know enough about the lad to figure whether he could but up with him for five or six decades, but even a few years with Zeke would give Cole a better chance and happiness than staying here, in some tiny town that Zeke wouldn't remember the name of, doing the same thing every damn day. Pushing through a sham marriage to make his parents happy.
"I have to go," Cole said, but he didn't move. Zeke didn't encourage him. They lay in silence, Cole crying on Zeke's neck.
"Cole," Zeke said. "Earlier you told me you wished to honor your parents. I respect that. Family is important - sometimes they're all you have. But I want you to consider something. You are not a straight man. That's not something you can control. You can stifle your desires and live unhappily married to a woman your parents approve of, but frankly that's a waste of a life, and unfair to both yourself and the lady in question. You won't be happy, you won't love her, you won't desire her. You will grow old with someone you dislike, and die unfulfilled. You don't deserve to live like that. No one does." He took a moment to think through his next line. Cole said nothing, but he had tilted his head to watch Zeke speak. "If your parents don't support your happiness, no matter what form it comes in, they do not deserve to be honored."
He nudged. Just a little, and so easy with the lad skin to skin, their legs entwined. Cole breathed heavy, as if he couldn't catch his breath. Zeke pushed sand-colored hair behind Cole's ear. Perhaps he missed the sea a bit after all. "I don't know what to do," Cole said.
Zeke kissed Cole, easy and slow, tongue massaging the inside of Cole's mouth. He breathed into Cole, his influence settling into the lad's skin from the inside out. It wasn't a trick -- it wouldn't work, in the long term, if he made Cole lie to himself. He simply pushed Cole to accept his own desires over his sense of duty to his family.
"Stay with me," Zeke whispered against Cole's cheek. "Live a better life."
Cole pulled back, his eyes clouded. "I don't know anything about you. I don't even know your last name."
"You'll get to know me," Zeke said. "You'll learn as much of me and the world as I can show you. You don't have to stay here shoveling shit for the rest of your life."
"I hate ranching," Cole whispered. "Are you a serial killer?"
"Not in this century." Nor ever, but the world used to have different ideas about murder. "I don't want to hurt you. I want to enlighten you."
"Okay," Cole said, and he crawled over Zeke, rock hard. The lad straddled him, guiding Zeke's dick up and inside and rocking against the older man, head tossed back.
Zeke has nudged a little harder than intended. Or maybe Cole hadn't needed quite as much convincing as anticipated. Either way, Zeke was more than happy with this response, and let himself stop thinking.
*
Zeke waited in his parked car with the lights off. Cole had rather vigorously and enthusiastically exhausted himself, napped for several hours, and woke them both up at three in the morning. He need to grab a few things, he said. Zeke could buy Cole anything -- several smart investments over the years had made Zeke sick with wealth -- but everyone had keepsakes. Zeke couldn't deny the lad that; he had a few trinkets hidden away, gifts and mementos he hadn't been able to give up. People had pictures nowadays, too, although this would go better if Cole didn't take too many memories with him.
Cole opened the door carefully and slid into the passenger's seat, setting his backpack on the floor between his feet. "Sorry. Lucy waited up for me. My cat. I had to say goodbye. This ain't her fault. Didn't want her to think I don't love her no more."
"Go get her."
"What? Are you sure?"
"Yup. Grab the cat. We'll buy her food first thing in the morning."
Cole pulled Zeke into a kiss, grinning. "Thank you!"
*
Zeke found them a hotel as the sun rose. He had Cole write down Lucy's favorite brand of cat food before putting him to bed. The cat herself, a sleek black monster larger than some dogs, eyed Zeke with disdain as she curled up next to her master. Well, that was cats for you.
He purchased enough kitty food to last an apocalypse and enough bottled and dried food to last him and Cole a week or so, not accounting for fast food. Cole was 19, but if his family acted quickly he could be a missing person on the local TV by midday. Zeke wanted to be a few states away before looking for a more permanent residence. Preferably in or near a city - both to give Cole a wide variety of new experiences to choose from, and to keep Cole hidden. The cops couldn't force and adult back home, but if they found him Cole might feel guilty enough to return. Zeke fully believed that, given a few years away and enough experience among the LGBT community, Cole would find himself. Maybe, eventually, he would see his family again, but not until he was strong enough to walk away on his own.
His cell phone rang as he got back into the car, three bags of groceries in hand. He squinted at the little square screen: Arte, it read.
Well.
He shut himself inside the car before answering. "I am both happy and surprised to hear from you, daughter mine."
"Are we not attempting to put the past in the past?"
"Sure, but I think that's a little easier for me than for you."
She sighed. "This is true. I hope I haven't interrupted anything important."
"No, no, just picking up seeds for a recent ploughing. I have time." He popped open a Pepsi. Soda was the least healthy 'food' product invented by modern man, but damn if it wasn't sweet.
"You've taken up farming?" He almost wanted to confirm, in order to continue her amusement.
"Ha, just a metaphor."
"...I see." She took a long, deep breath. "I have been travelling the Divide. Looking for answers. Someone is killing my Hunters. Only the men. Taking their hearts. These hearts are being consumed. I know not by who or what, but I do know who is stealing their hearts. Your brother."
Zeke went still. "I assume you don't mean the sailor."
"I do not. I have attempted to contact him, but no one seems to have his number anymore. Not even the sailor."
"What about your sister-slash-mother-in-law?"
Arte snorted. "No. Even Demi is no longer in contact. She was rather upset to learn she could no longer call her daughter."
Zeke sighed. "Your Hunters, they've kept their promise?"
"Of course, otherwise they would not be mine. Oh, only those who have bred are taken," she said quickly, as if she'd just thought of it. "Or those too old to do so. No children."
Zeke shook his head. Not enough information. "I'll try to get in touch with him. Or with someone who can get in touch with him." No one knew everyone, not even among his kind. "Keep me informed in the meantime, please. In case this is beyond simple rudeness."
"Thank you, father."
They hung up and he stared into his soda can, swirling the liquid and listening to it fizzle. He texted Mo, just in case his younger brother felt like changing his stance on "oops I lost his number." He sighed, dialed a number from memory, and put the phone to his ear.
"Ask," she laughed before the first ring. He wasn't sure she even used a phone. Communication across the Divide didn't always translate coherently.
"Do I need to worry about this?"
She cackled, a true witch's laugh. It echoed inside the car. The rear view mirror cracked and he looked into it; she stared back at him, skin black as night and eyes bright as the sun.
"Yes," she said, and when he turned around she wasn't there. His phone screeched at him and he tossed it across the car.
"Fuck," he snarled, searching the back seat for her, in case she hadn't actually vanished. His phone rang and he swore again, twisting back around, his spine bending in ways it really shouldn't in public.
"Are you okay?" Mo asked as soon as Zeke picked up.
"Fantastic. He's collecting hearts, Mo. That's not nothing. Do you remember what we were doing the last time we collected hearts?"
"That doesn't mean it's related, Z. It's, ah, he said it's nothing any of us need to worry about."
"And you believed him. Just because he still likes you doesn't mean he's not going to lie to you. He's not feeding his fucking dogs Mo. I called her."
"...Mētēr? How the fuck did you manage--
"No, are you out of your mind? No, I meant her."
"Well, shit. You really think he's going to pull something nasty. What did she say?"
"She said yes when I asked her if I needed to worry about this. And laughed her ass off."
"Nothing new on that last part." Mo quieted a moment. Zeke could just about see him on deck, leaning over the railing. Shirt off, wind at his back. "You shouldn't have asked such a selfish question."
Zeke blinked the vision away. "What?"
"You asked if you had to worry about this. That just might mean you and my niece have a huge fight over it. For all we know he really is just feeding his creepy dogs."
"That... is a good point. Shit." Zeke closed his eyes. "I need to talk to him."
"Yeah, good luck with that one. Don't even ask me."
"It's an emergency, Moana."
"It might be an emergency, based entirely on your completely biased opinion of him. Should I tell him how to find you if he decides it's an emergency? I love you, brother, but I don't trust you not to Divine your way to him and throw him through the nearest window."
Zeke snorted. It was a nice thought. "You know me too well." He had one more trick, although calling it that was unfair. Sometimes the truth was tricky. "Mo."
"Yeah."
"What if I'm right?"
Mo shrugged. Zeke blinked; he could almost see his brother in front of him, without meaning to. Maybe Mo was projecting. "Then we deal with it. With him."
"What if we're too late?"
Mo's face went stone cold. Zeke nearly took it back. "Then we deal with her."
"If we fail," Zeke said slowly, "our family won't be the only ones to suffer."
"I know that," Mo snapped. "And you're talking about a thin possibility because, what? To scare me into doing what you want?"
"No," Zeke said honestly, "because I'm fucking terrified and I don't understand why I'm the only one."
"Han wouldn't dare. He would suffer as much as the rest of us. You are being paranoid because you don't trust him." Mo let out a rush of breath. "And just in case I'm wrong, I will keep closer tabs on him. But I'm not telling you anything that isn't relevant to... this fear of yours."
"That's fine," Zeke muttered to dead air. "I wouldn't want to know anyway."
He glared at his phone for several minutes before starting the car up. He still had Cole to take care of. Hell, if things worked out the way he hoped -- the way he felt they could -- this was just extra incentive. Keep Cole safe. Keep his family safe. That was all that mattered.
auguris'verse: The Underground
Story: June 2002
Colors: Blood Red 10. defenestration, Dirt Brown 18. Plough, Summertime Blues 14. Day just like the last.
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Seed Beads, Graffiti: Intense Cuddling
Word Count: 3390
Rating: R for sexual content
Summary: Zeke makes a new friend and learns of a problem.
June 2002
Zeke let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting inside Kurt's Cafe. Black and white photos adorned well-aged wood paneling above blue-cushioned booths. A number of smaller tables filled the space between the wall and the bar. The menu listed an impressive assortment of coffee liqueurs, including a few one normally didn't see this side of the Divide. The barkeep eyed him before attending to a couple at the bar; the woman dressed in attire more appropriate for high-end dining, while her male companion likely hadn't even showered after a full day at the ranch.
A young man, barely a man at all, sat alone on the far end of the bar. Zeke tilted his head; an intense nervousness radiated from him, almost fear. Zeke sat near him, leaving one empty stool between them. He ordered Kona Gold, not out of preference but because it had gold in the name, and waited. His soon-to-be companion sported a blue plaid button up shirt and jeans; his sandy-blond hair swept back. Peach skin sun-kissed to a light brown and blue-green eyes like the shallows off the Bahamas. Zeke took a deep, slow breath.
"You look nervous, son," Zeke said, corner of his mouth twitching upwards.
Sandy-hair jumped, staring at Zeke a moment before he offered a response. "I'm supposed to meet someone. She's. Uh. Late." He glanced down at his half-empty glass. His nervous aura smoothed into a plea: Save me. From Zeke? Or from the young lady he was to meet?
"Your lady usually late?"
"She's not my lady, uh, my girlfriend." The kid swallowed. "We're on a date. A blind date. Sort of. I mean we went to school together, but we didn't know each other or anything."
Zeke took a risk: "I have a hard time believin' a young, strapping lad like you needs help finding a date."
Said strapping lad blushed to his ear-tips. Bingo. "I uh, haha. Thanks. I guess I just. Have trouble with women." He downed the rest of his glass in one go. Zeke watched him swallow, pushing down the urge to run his fingers down the lad's throat. Not yet.
He tapped the bar. "Two whiskeys, on the rocks." He smiled at his new friend. "You look like you could use something stronger. I'm Zeke."
"Cole." His blue-green eyes sparkled when he turned to Zeke. "Thanks."
When the drinks arrived Zeke dipped his finger into Cole's glass; it wasn't a compulsion, that was cheating. He used to do that, blunder his way through sex and romance like the Minotaur in a china shop, but that grew boring a long time ago. This was just a little nudge, to get the kid to open up.
"My folks say I'm too old to be unhitched," Cole told his sipped whiskey. A sip was enough. "My sister set me up with this chick. Mona. But I'm not. I can't." He shook his head and took another sip. "I don't want to get married to..."
Zeke moved over while Cole was staring into his drink. Their thighs brushed together and Cole swallowed again. "What about school? You're the right age to head off to university."
Cole shook his head. "There's no money for it. Besides, my folks, they want me to stay home, work on the ranch. Take over the family business, you know? I can't even go to Dallas. I can't go anywhere. Ever."
Anger overrode the nervousness; instead of thumping the table or shouting or whatnot, Cole's eyes watered. Zeke touched his knee with a fingertip, careful. "You want to get some air?" Cole nodded, and Zeke left a handful of bills on the counter. More than the drinks were worth; the first twenty told the barkeep to forget the both of them, and the second twenty reinforced the notion. It didn't always work, that sort of trickery sat outside his wheelhouse, but the money itself might be enough to keep the man quiet. If not, well, they wouldn't be in town long regardless.
They ended up in Zeke's car, windows cracked and radio tuned to a local alt-rock station. Zeke preferred operas, always would, but it put Cole at ease.
"Tell me why you're so set on planning your life around your parents." His hand squeezed Cole's knee; another nudge, stronger than the drink. Easier, with all that drink in the lad.
"They're my parents," Cole whispered. "They raised me. They gave me life. How can I go against what they want? How can they be wrong?"
Zeke sighed. Cole was so, so young. One night wasn't going to fix this. "It's your life, Cole. You get to decide how to live it. If they can't be proud of you for succeeding, not matter how you find that success, then they're in the wrong. You can't let them hold you back from the life you want to live." He leaned in. "The desires you deserve to indulge in."
Cole hiccuped and crossed his arms. "But you're supposed to honor your parents."
"Says who?"
Cole wrapped his arms tighter. "Jesus."
Zeke couldn't help it: he laughed. "How do you know that? Because it's in some old book, right? Has Jesus ever come down and told you to your face to retard your own damn life because your parents are afraid of change?"
Cole cried in earnest, now. But he didn't leave. "No."
"And has Jesus told you," Zeke said slowly, moving his hand back to Cole's knee, "that man shouldn't lie with man? Or just your old book?"
Cole started, glistening eyes wide. "How did you-- you can't tell anyone, please, you can't--"
"Oh sweetheart," Zeke murmured. He stroked Cole's hair. "I'm the last person to out anyone. I know how dangerous the truth can be, in the wrong hands."
Cole closed his eyes, tears forced down his cheeks. Zeke caught them. "How did you know?"
"You don't get upset when I flirt with you. It's all right, it's all right. Hush. Listen. I have a room at a half-way decent hotel down the road. To hell with Mona, come with me."
Cole swallowed, and this time Zeke indulged himself and kissed the lad's neck. Cole made a deep, desperate noise. "Okay. Okay. Let's go."
*
Cole lay curled next to Zeke, his head over Zeke's heart. Zeke caressed Cole's hair absently, his other arm behind his head. Cole pulled the sheets up to his shoulder.
"Cold?"
"No, it's just... we're naked," Cole murmured.
Zeke chuckled. "I was inside of you a few minutes ago." Cole's ears went pink. "You're adorable."
"Hey," Cole said, but he didn't sound upset. "I don't... do this... much."
That had been obvious, but Zeke had never been put off by inexperience. At his age, there were very few who could match his experience in much of anything. "Your family doesn't approve."
"They don't know. They can't." Cole pressed his face into Zeke's chest. "They would never speak to me again."
Zeke pulled Cole up so they lay face to face and wrapped his arms around the young man. "I'm sorry."
"They're going to be so pissed when Mona tells them I wasn't there." Cole sighed against Zeke's neck.
"If Mona ever showed," Zeke pointed out.
"I shouldn't have done this," Cole murmured. "I mean, I, I liked it. A lot. But I have to go back, and I have to lie to them, and I have to apologize to Mona and take her out somewhere nice and get married and have three or four kids. I have to."
"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?" Cole didn't answer. Zeke reached under the sheets and cupped Cole's bottom. Cole shivered, but didn't pull away.
Zeke had been on his own for... hell, he couldn't remember how long. After awhile years lost meaning. He'd spent a few decades sailing with his brother, finding a port in every harbor; eventually he craved land and set off on his own, traveling across six continents and countless countries. He had toyed with the idea of finding more of his people, but it was getting harder to gather close, with so much of the world populated. Mostly he moved on, collected post cards for his first wife, and found warmth with those who needed a little warmth themselves.
He could settle down, for awhile. Cole was young, and if taken care of he could live a long life. Zeke didn't know enough about the lad to figure whether he could but up with him for five or six decades, but even a few years with Zeke would give Cole a better chance and happiness than staying here, in some tiny town that Zeke wouldn't remember the name of, doing the same thing every damn day. Pushing through a sham marriage to make his parents happy.
"I have to go," Cole said, but he didn't move. Zeke didn't encourage him. They lay in silence, Cole crying on Zeke's neck.
"Cole," Zeke said. "Earlier you told me you wished to honor your parents. I respect that. Family is important - sometimes they're all you have. But I want you to consider something. You are not a straight man. That's not something you can control. You can stifle your desires and live unhappily married to a woman your parents approve of, but frankly that's a waste of a life, and unfair to both yourself and the lady in question. You won't be happy, you won't love her, you won't desire her. You will grow old with someone you dislike, and die unfulfilled. You don't deserve to live like that. No one does." He took a moment to think through his next line. Cole said nothing, but he had tilted his head to watch Zeke speak. "If your parents don't support your happiness, no matter what form it comes in, they do not deserve to be honored."
He nudged. Just a little, and so easy with the lad skin to skin, their legs entwined. Cole breathed heavy, as if he couldn't catch his breath. Zeke pushed sand-colored hair behind Cole's ear. Perhaps he missed the sea a bit after all. "I don't know what to do," Cole said.
Zeke kissed Cole, easy and slow, tongue massaging the inside of Cole's mouth. He breathed into Cole, his influence settling into the lad's skin from the inside out. It wasn't a trick -- it wouldn't work, in the long term, if he made Cole lie to himself. He simply pushed Cole to accept his own desires over his sense of duty to his family.
"Stay with me," Zeke whispered against Cole's cheek. "Live a better life."
Cole pulled back, his eyes clouded. "I don't know anything about you. I don't even know your last name."
"You'll get to know me," Zeke said. "You'll learn as much of me and the world as I can show you. You don't have to stay here shoveling shit for the rest of your life."
"I hate ranching," Cole whispered. "Are you a serial killer?"
"Not in this century." Nor ever, but the world used to have different ideas about murder. "I don't want to hurt you. I want to enlighten you."
"Okay," Cole said, and he crawled over Zeke, rock hard. The lad straddled him, guiding Zeke's dick up and inside and rocking against the older man, head tossed back.
Zeke has nudged a little harder than intended. Or maybe Cole hadn't needed quite as much convincing as anticipated. Either way, Zeke was more than happy with this response, and let himself stop thinking.
*
Zeke waited in his parked car with the lights off. Cole had rather vigorously and enthusiastically exhausted himself, napped for several hours, and woke them both up at three in the morning. He need to grab a few things, he said. Zeke could buy Cole anything -- several smart investments over the years had made Zeke sick with wealth -- but everyone had keepsakes. Zeke couldn't deny the lad that; he had a few trinkets hidden away, gifts and mementos he hadn't been able to give up. People had pictures nowadays, too, although this would go better if Cole didn't take too many memories with him.
Cole opened the door carefully and slid into the passenger's seat, setting his backpack on the floor between his feet. "Sorry. Lucy waited up for me. My cat. I had to say goodbye. This ain't her fault. Didn't want her to think I don't love her no more."
"Go get her."
"What? Are you sure?"
"Yup. Grab the cat. We'll buy her food first thing in the morning."
Cole pulled Zeke into a kiss, grinning. "Thank you!"
*
Zeke found them a hotel as the sun rose. He had Cole write down Lucy's favorite brand of cat food before putting him to bed. The cat herself, a sleek black monster larger than some dogs, eyed Zeke with disdain as she curled up next to her master. Well, that was cats for you.
He purchased enough kitty food to last an apocalypse and enough bottled and dried food to last him and Cole a week or so, not accounting for fast food. Cole was 19, but if his family acted quickly he could be a missing person on the local TV by midday. Zeke wanted to be a few states away before looking for a more permanent residence. Preferably in or near a city - both to give Cole a wide variety of new experiences to choose from, and to keep Cole hidden. The cops couldn't force and adult back home, but if they found him Cole might feel guilty enough to return. Zeke fully believed that, given a few years away and enough experience among the LGBT community, Cole would find himself. Maybe, eventually, he would see his family again, but not until he was strong enough to walk away on his own.
His cell phone rang as he got back into the car, three bags of groceries in hand. He squinted at the little square screen: Arte, it read.
Well.
He shut himself inside the car before answering. "I am both happy and surprised to hear from you, daughter mine."
"Are we not attempting to put the past in the past?"
"Sure, but I think that's a little easier for me than for you."
She sighed. "This is true. I hope I haven't interrupted anything important."
"No, no, just picking up seeds for a recent ploughing. I have time." He popped open a Pepsi. Soda was the least healthy 'food' product invented by modern man, but damn if it wasn't sweet.
"You've taken up farming?" He almost wanted to confirm, in order to continue her amusement.
"Ha, just a metaphor."
"...I see." She took a long, deep breath. "I have been travelling the Divide. Looking for answers. Someone is killing my Hunters. Only the men. Taking their hearts. These hearts are being consumed. I know not by who or what, but I do know who is stealing their hearts. Your brother."
Zeke went still. "I assume you don't mean the sailor."
"I do not. I have attempted to contact him, but no one seems to have his number anymore. Not even the sailor."
"What about your sister-slash-mother-in-law?"
Arte snorted. "No. Even Demi is no longer in contact. She was rather upset to learn she could no longer call her daughter."
Zeke sighed. "Your Hunters, they've kept their promise?"
"Of course, otherwise they would not be mine. Oh, only those who have bred are taken," she said quickly, as if she'd just thought of it. "Or those too old to do so. No children."
Zeke shook his head. Not enough information. "I'll try to get in touch with him. Or with someone who can get in touch with him." No one knew everyone, not even among his kind. "Keep me informed in the meantime, please. In case this is beyond simple rudeness."
"Thank you, father."
They hung up and he stared into his soda can, swirling the liquid and listening to it fizzle. He texted Mo, just in case his younger brother felt like changing his stance on "oops I lost his number." He sighed, dialed a number from memory, and put the phone to his ear.
"Ask," she laughed before the first ring. He wasn't sure she even used a phone. Communication across the Divide didn't always translate coherently.
"Do I need to worry about this?"
She cackled, a true witch's laugh. It echoed inside the car. The rear view mirror cracked and he looked into it; she stared back at him, skin black as night and eyes bright as the sun.
"Yes," she said, and when he turned around she wasn't there. His phone screeched at him and he tossed it across the car.
"Fuck," he snarled, searching the back seat for her, in case she hadn't actually vanished. His phone rang and he swore again, twisting back around, his spine bending in ways it really shouldn't in public.
"Are you okay?" Mo asked as soon as Zeke picked up.
"Fantastic. He's collecting hearts, Mo. That's not nothing. Do you remember what we were doing the last time we collected hearts?"
"That doesn't mean it's related, Z. It's, ah, he said it's nothing any of us need to worry about."
"And you believed him. Just because he still likes you doesn't mean he's not going to lie to you. He's not feeding his fucking dogs Mo. I called her."
"...Mētēr? How the fuck did you manage--
"No, are you out of your mind? No, I meant her."
"Well, shit. You really think he's going to pull something nasty. What did she say?"
"She said yes when I asked her if I needed to worry about this. And laughed her ass off."
"Nothing new on that last part." Mo quieted a moment. Zeke could just about see him on deck, leaning over the railing. Shirt off, wind at his back. "You shouldn't have asked such a selfish question."
Zeke blinked the vision away. "What?"
"You asked if you had to worry about this. That just might mean you and my niece have a huge fight over it. For all we know he really is just feeding his creepy dogs."
"That... is a good point. Shit." Zeke closed his eyes. "I need to talk to him."
"Yeah, good luck with that one. Don't even ask me."
"It's an emergency, Moana."
"It might be an emergency, based entirely on your completely biased opinion of him. Should I tell him how to find you if he decides it's an emergency? I love you, brother, but I don't trust you not to Divine your way to him and throw him through the nearest window."
Zeke snorted. It was a nice thought. "You know me too well." He had one more trick, although calling it that was unfair. Sometimes the truth was tricky. "Mo."
"Yeah."
"What if I'm right?"
Mo shrugged. Zeke blinked; he could almost see his brother in front of him, without meaning to. Maybe Mo was projecting. "Then we deal with it. With him."
"What if we're too late?"
Mo's face went stone cold. Zeke nearly took it back. "Then we deal with her."
"If we fail," Zeke said slowly, "our family won't be the only ones to suffer."
"I know that," Mo snapped. "And you're talking about a thin possibility because, what? To scare me into doing what you want?"
"No," Zeke said honestly, "because I'm fucking terrified and I don't understand why I'm the only one."
"Han wouldn't dare. He would suffer as much as the rest of us. You are being paranoid because you don't trust him." Mo let out a rush of breath. "And just in case I'm wrong, I will keep closer tabs on him. But I'm not telling you anything that isn't relevant to... this fear of yours."
"That's fine," Zeke muttered to dead air. "I wouldn't want to know anyway."
He glared at his phone for several minutes before starting the car up. He still had Cole to take care of. Hell, if things worked out the way he hoped -- the way he felt they could -- this was just extra incentive. Keep Cole safe. Keep his family safe. That was all that mattered.
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I love this character so much, the way he seems well-meaning but has this slightly twisted view on morality, how he makes seduction seem almost effortless. And the way that the action and the creepiness ramps up in the end is really great. It's such a beautifully written scene; hopefully I can catch up with the rest of the story at some point in the future!
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