Casey and Eli

“You bastard!” the smaller boy screamed as he slammed shut the bathroom door. He was crying yet again due to another snide comment courtesy of Casey. Casey was quietly sipping his coffee and walking down the hallway toward the bathroom in the direction that Eli had run. He leaned up against the wall next to the door and buried one hand in his pocket. Eli’s soft sobs could be heard through the door but Casey calmly took another sip and waited for the worst to pass.

When the door opened ten minutes later Casey’s coffee was gone but he was still waiting. He didn’t say a word; he simply took the shorter boy by the waist, slung him over his shoulder and headed toward the bedroom. Eli screamed at the top of his lungs for Casey to stop and put him down but there was nothing Eli could say to make him stop.

“Stop it Casey, stop! I don’t want to! STOP!” he cried but Casey shut and locked the door with his free hand and threw him on the bed. “Casey let me out, I don’t want to, I want to leave!” These were the same words he had said many times before, so Casey didn’t care.

“Shut up Eli,” he grumbled and he tore the boy’s briefs off him and started to rape him. He grunted with his pleasure as the smaller one screamed obscenities at him—Casey wondered if Eli had a mother and if he ever kissed her with that dirty mouth. He always had quite the mouth on him so Casey was used to the casual “motherfucker”, or “cocksucker” at the dinner table and a mumbled “shithead” or “fagface” over breakfast.

Now the boy had taken to his usual moaning—that stage where he’s not sure if he’s still mad at Casey or if he wants to indulge in his hormones and delve into the full pleasure of what Casey is doing to him. He was a masochistic little prick; that Casey knew, and he took joy in bringing him just what he wanted. Finally Casey climaxed, he took a few seconds to collect himself before pulling out of the boy and jerking his jeans on.

He left the room but heard the soft sound of skin against carpet as Eli shuffled to the doorframe. Casey stopped at the edge of the stairs and turned his head to gaze at the boy. He was dressed in nothing but a long T shirt that reached the middle of his thighs; it looked like one of the cotton shirts that Casey kept in his drawers that Eli said made him feel safe and warm. Did he feel safe and warm now? Tear tracks streaked Eli’s face but his eyes were clear and wide, staring up at Casey pleadingly.

Casey knew Eli didn’t know what to say, so he turned away and headed down the stairs. Even though Casey knew exactly what Eli had wanted, then and so many times before, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Eli had simply wanted Casey to stay. His fantasy was that Casey would love him tenderly, gently, and touch his hair with soft finger strokes and when it was over—this was the most important part—Casey would stay and wrap them both in the sheets and cuddle. He never did it. He didn’t know why he never did either, he was a bastard, that was for sure, and he took no greater pleasure than knowing that each and every day…Eli needed him.

So what if he took advantage of him? That was what the condition was for him to stay, so why should Casey feel obligated to stay with him and grow attached? Yet, he thought as he walked into his kitchen, wasn’t he attached already? Did he need Eli? He brushed the thought away as he poured himself another cup of coffee, reminding himself to pick up the mug that was still upstairs.

When he turned from the counter Eli was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with the empty mug in his hands. He placed it on the counter and made his way over to the table where the newspaper was and he bent over to read it, resting his arms on the table and leaning in. Casey set down his new cup of coffee and stared at Eli’s tight rear end, covered just barely by the T shirt. He was so entranced in the way the sight made him feel he couldn’t help himself when the young boy started to sway. Casey mounted him right there in the kitchen, pounding into him over the Sunday comics. Eli was pleased.

When the taller man was finished he sat heavily in a chair, zipping up his jeans and sighing, content. Eli could barely stand, holding himself up with the table.

“You just can’t resist me can you?” asked the fourteen-year-old. He was grinning at Casey like they had some terrible secret—yet as Casey thought about it, they sort of did. All of a sudden he had an irresistible urge and he acted on it, quick as a dart Casey was out of his seat and Eli was on the floor with a welt growing clear on his cheek. The older man stormed from the room out the back door and into the back yard.

Casey had only hit Eli on five other occasions but this time was the first he’d hit his face. He couldn’t say why but tears were gathering in his eyes and he took in a deep breath that came out ragged. “I can’t do this,” Casey whispered to himself as he walked through his back yard toward the woods. “He’s gotta go.”

Eli stayed on the floor for just about two minutes, holding his stinging cheek in his hand. He was shocked that Casey would slap him so hard as to floor him but he was also not sure what he said to deserve it. He got up, too shocked for tears.

“Casey,” he said to the empty kitchen. He wondered if this was the final straw, if Casey would throw him out on the street like he’d found him. He had threatened to do it only twice before but you know what they say, “the third time’s a charm”. Tears began to leak down Eli’s reddened cheek as he rubbed it and he realized he didn’t want to go. At first it was a deal of convenience, Casey got what he wanted and Eli got to stay. They had grown together over the past year and Eli didn’t want to go. There was a time before all this madness that he would have gladly taken his stuff and left the house on a whim but now…now he wanted to stay. He wanted Casey.

Casey, to him, was not someone who could be taken advantage of, he was not someone who you could step on like Eli had stepped on others before. He was strong, protective; he was the one person Eli saw as a best friend if not a lover. To Casey he was nothing but a quick romp every once and awhile, yet lately Eli had noticed a tenderness in his touch, and a sparkle in his eyes. Perhaps he had misinterpreted it to be love? He wondered why he was so stupid when it came to Casey.

“What can I do?” he asked, “What can I do to make you love me Casey?”

When Casey came back it was about ten after noon and Eli was still dressed in the same T shirt but he had progressed in his dressing and had put on a pair of jeans, neglecting any underwear. He was eating a hotdog he’d nuked into submission when Casey came through the back door and slammed it shut.

“Casey?” Eli asked but he was ignored. The elder simply walked past him and left the room, going through the hall and climbing up the stairs. Eli was rather put out so he decided to follow him, putting his lunch down and jogging up the stairs. When Eli reached the top of the stairs he entered the bedroom cautiously to find Casey stripping himself of his shirt and plopping down on the bed. “Casey, what’s wrong?”

“You!” He yelled rather loudly and Eli flinched. “You’re what’s wrong you little shit! You’re what’s wrong!”

“What’s wrong with me? Why?” Eli asked, approaching the bed. His shirt was roughly grasped and he was flung over Casey and slammed onto the bed. Casey rolled on top of him and pinned him to the mattress. “Casey!” he cried as the older man’s rough hands stripped him of his shirt. He was assaulted by the elder in the form of biting and bruising as his pants were shoved down off his hips and down his lean thighs to just under his knees. There Casey seemed to stop, panting and watching the blood from bite marks on the younger boy’s collar bone come to beads and start to slide across pale skin.

Casey’s fingers twisted in Eli’s blond hair, jerking his head back so he could bite at Eli’s neck. His other hand had found its way down the boy’s belly to twist in the hair between his long legs—a gasp escaped his throat as Casey’s fingers viciously tangled themselves in it. Soon his fingers had found something else and the brown haired man removed himself from Eli’s neck, letting the blood from the wounds run back into his soft blond hair as the younger boy arched his neck and moaned in pleasure and pain.

“Casey!” he almost screamed as he was taken into a warm hand and squeezed painfully. “Casey,” he sighed, breathlessly, “Stop Casey…”

“No…I’m not going to let you go this time Eli,” he told him and Eli’s heart skipped. “Remember when I found you?” he asked as his fingers periodically tightened around Eli’s hardening member, causing hitches in the small boy’s breath. “You were so cold, so alone…so vulnerable. I remember when I first fucked you. You cried so hard I wanted to kill you with my bare hands. You liked being hurt, especially down here,” he said in a matter of fact tone. His fingers stopped their motion and he rubbed his palm down the shaft. Eli let out a moaning sigh. “Do you still like being hurt Eli? Do you still like this?”

Eli wanted to cry out, NO! But he couldn’t, he wanted this, he wanted Casey to be gentle, like the way he was touching him now. He couldn’t answer the questions, all he could do was gurgle his gathering saliva and let it run down his cheeks and chin. He was too preoccupied with Casey’s touching to swallow. He choked on his spit and coughed violently, spraying Casey’s face with moisture, causing him to push away from the younger male in disgust.

As Eli continued his coughing fit Casey got off the bed and moved to the window, staring out of it and holding his head in his hands.

Eli’s half raised penis spurted urine onto the bedspread as he coughed violently, still having quite a bit of spittle stuck in his throat. Casey was still facing he window, if he had seen what Eli was doing he would have recoiled in disgust. The boy cleared his throat and rested his head back on the pillow, his abs aching and his body utterly spent.

“You’re disgusting,” Casey told him without turning around. “I want you out of here by nine o’clock tonight.”

Before Eli could react Casey was out of the room, leaving the panting boy on the soiled bedspread to contemplate his future without a home and without a lover.

Tears gathered in his eyes as the stinging pain in his crotch faded. He was torn between trying to get back the life he’d had and just moving on—he wanted Casey so much. There was nothing else to live for without Casey.

The boy had to go and that was that; he sat in the kitchen gulping down a mug of lukewarm coffee. He grimaced at the taste. Eli had been fun for awhile, but that was the limit of it, or so he thought. He contemplated the existence of a deeper, more subtle relationship and even though he tried to push it from his mind, he couldn’t. Eli had been more than just some quick fuck hadn’t he?

He didn’t want to think about it but it kept popping up in his head like a bad neighbor. He didn’t want to think that he needed anyone, that there was someone he just couldn’t live without. “When he goes, it’ll all go away,” Casey told himself but he still wasn’t convinced.

He filled a pot with water and set it to boil, starting to make his dinner of spaghetti. He left the water and went to sit at the table, but before he could something caught his eye. It was Eli; he was dressed in the cotton shirt and nothing else, just as this morning. Urine stained the hem of the shirt over his crotch and dripped down his slender thighs, causing Casey’s eyes to narrow.

“Couldn’t change? You have three hours, I’d start packing if I were you,” he said rather coldly, turning his attention away. He didn’t turn back, even when Eli let loose a few soft sobs.

“You’re an ass,” Eli told him but he dismissed it. “What would you do without me?”

He didn’t know.

“What would you do if I died? What would you do if I just stepped in front of a bus?”

He couldn’t answer, but the thought gave him chills.

“Fine Casey, that’s just fine,” he almost whispered and his footsteps padded through the kitchen. Casey turned himself around toward Eli. He was standing next to the stove—the handle of the pot of boiling water in his hand. His heart nearly stopped. He thought for a second that Eli was going to pour it at him but his breath stopped when he realized what he was really doing.

Before he could stop it Eli had tipped the pot and flung it upon himself, the scalding water splashing over his neck and the entire right half of his body. Casey watched as the boy’s face changed and he collapsed. Casey caught him as he fell and held him to his body, still in shock of what the young boy had done to himself. The water burned Casey’s skin and he tore the shirt off of Eli as to stop it from burning him even more.

“Oh God!” he cried as he held the boy tight to his chest. “Oh God Eli, it wasn’t worth it!”

Eli didn’t respond; his eyelids fluttered erratically and Casey looked around vehemently for where he left the cordless phone to see if he could reach it. It was hopeless; all he could do was sit there with the boy and hope for the best. He would call for help as soon as he thought Eli could be on his own for at least a minute.

“…sey,” Eli tried, “Casey,” he rasped and Casey turned his now tear-streaked face toward him. “You…you’re holding me,” he whispered.

More tears streamed down the elder’s face and he pressed his forehead to Eli’s, hoping and praying he wouldn’t leave him, not like this.

Epilogue

He stared back at his reflection, dressed in a dark green sweater and tight jeans. The window in the background of the mirror image was caked with ice and the snow falling on the other side was distorted as it flew through the air. He ran his fingers through his soft hair and sighed, his eyes drifting to the scars that ran down his neck and disappeared under the collar.

Warm arms came around his middle and he smiled. The older man dipped his head down and kissed the scars, making the boy giggle and forget his nostalgia.

“Come on Eli,” Casey said quietly, his warm breath tickling Eli’s neck. “They’ll be here any minute, and you know you can’t keep Christmas guests waiting—they get cranky when they’re up to their knees in snow.”

Eli smiled when he realized Casey wasn’t going to let him go unless he moved. He turned in Casey’s embrace and kissed him tenderly. The doorbell rang at that precise moment but they didn’t move, not until the third ring of that Goddamn doorbell.

Fin

Author's Note for Casey and Eli: This one’s for Tanin, HEY BABE!!! I redid it and I don’t like the redo but I think it has more of a moral if you can find it. It has more of a…dramatic prose to it. Anyways, I rewrote it even though I seriously had a case of writer’s block and I was stalling from trying to “shovel shit” okay?! I did, this is the shit I shoveled…and I was listening to Journey, and Billy Joel…and one Elton John song while I was writing it.

This was originally written on Tanin’s laptop…but that was so much better ‘cause I was seriously in need of sleep then and it was like…two sleepovers I had to work on that and it was at least 4:00 A.M. when I finished that one night…God that was so freakin’ amazing. Anyways, I reminded myself to write it and now I have to call Tanin so she knows it’s on here…she’ll want it.

You do want it right Tanin? Review you butt.