Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

wrapped his arm around him carefully. He didn't say anything, knowing that everything coming to mind would either really piss Zane off or be a lie.
    Zane lay just breathing for a while, and finally he smiled. “Sit in a corner and watch me jerk off?” he drawled. “My, my."
    Ty blushed slightly, though in the early morning light it wasn't entirely noticeable. “Sounds fun,” he explained shortly.
    "Mmmm. I agree,” Zane murmured as he turned his lips to Ty's skin and stretched out against him. He sighed, the sound muffled against Ty's shoulder. “What is it about you that makes me want to chuck everything and just fuck you again?” he asked seriously.
    Ty blinked in surprise and turned his head slightly. “Must be the Old Spice,” he joked weakly. Zane snorted and shook his head, though he did turn his head to inhale the scent of Ty's sweaty skin. “I don't know, then,” Ty murmured more seriously with a tilt to his chin.
    Zane went quiet for a long moment, but there wasn't anything he felt like he could say without sounding like an absolute fool. The nerves were creeping back, and he could feel the shakes threatening. He rolled to his back, lifting both hands to rub at his face before having to curl them into fists because they were shaking visibly. Damn damn damn. He'd hoped he'd have a little longer before the cravings hit. And he couldn't drink when it was time to get to work. “We need to get going,” he murmured faintly. He winced as it came out sounding totally weak.
    Ty lay still for a moment, nonplussed by the sudden change in subject. “Yeah,” he finally agreed with a grunt as he rolled and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He hefted himself up and shuffled to the bathroom to clean up.
    Zane watched Ty walk away with a swirling of confusing emotions. Fuck, he needed a hit. Flipping his legs out of the bed, Zane headed downstairs, first to the little bathroom under the steps, then to his jacket. He had to get rid of the damn pills or he'd be popping them like crazy—and that would make it so much harder to control himself around Ty. Not to mention royally pissing Ty off.
    Ty heard the rustle of the sheets as Zane slipped out, and he stood in front of the bathroom mirror with the damp cloth and waited a few moments before giving into the suspicion and following silently. He took his time getting into his briefs and jeans, hoping he wouldn't find Zane doing what he thought he was doing. The fact that he was already jonesing was pretty obvious, and Ty knew enough addicts to know that Zane's stash would be close.
    Zane rifled through the jacket and found the tin he carried the pills in. He didn't open it, just tapped the tin nervously on the leather sleeve, again trying to make himself get rid of them. He was still there when Ty came up behind him and leaned quietly against the kitchen counter. Zane was so wrapped up in his internal struggle that he didn't hear Ty, and the tin kept tapping nervously, speeding up, slowing down, speeding up.
    Ty watched him silently, frown deepening as Zane continued to visibly struggle with himself.
    Zane's hand shook as it curled around the tin, and he closed his eyes. He could give it up. He could. It wasn't his body that wanted the drug. It was his head. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and turned, freezing in place when he saw Ty there. Ty met his eyes emotionlessly and then slowly looked down at the tin in his hands.
    "Mints?” he asked flatly.
    "No."
    Ty's jaw clenched and then relaxed again. “Bit early for those, hmm?"
    Zane debated explaining—for about two seconds. Instead, he reached out and grabbed Ty's hand. He set the tin in his palm, curled his fingers over it, and then brushed past him, heading upstairs to the bathroom. Ty watched him go, then looked back down at the tin and pursed his lips. With a sigh, he slid it into his back pocket and headed back up to the bedroom to start getting packed.
    Zane turned on the cold water in the shower and sank down to sit on the edge of the bathtub, cursing himself. It should be easier than this. He'd quit before, and it had been much more hard-core shit. These poppers were no big deal.
    He climbed into the shower. So why did he feel like he had so much more to lose? The craving for the drugs echoed through his head, the urge to find a drink curled in his gut, and the wish for a cigarette set his fingers to twitching. God, he'd fucked himself up. At the time he hadn't cared anymore. He'd