Backyards

(Small warning: Boys being gross!)

~*~

He didn’t know how many yards he’d run through by now; countless at this point, really, as he hopped over a jagged wooden fence. One of the boards scraped his bare belly, making tears well in his eyes from the pain. This was the worst; worse than anything else he’d dealt with for the last six months.

Casey shot across the backyard of another suburban household, thankful that yet again, he didn’t run into anyone. He’d only come across one person, a woman in her garden, planting away. She’d jumped and gasped when Casey, muddied, scraped and frantic, barreled through her yard. Her surprise was even louder when Casey’s pursuers went through, moments after he’d gotten into the next yard.

The only reason he hadn’t gotten three miles ahead of them was the usual; a fence higher than he could hop over, taking a left or right when they’d come across open streets--Casey needed the ‘backyard cover’--or bushes and brambles that slowed him down. He thought he was done for at one point, when he couldn’t wrench his shirt free from the giant pricker bush he’d blundered into. After miles of scratches were put on his body, he gave up and tore the shirt off. Even if he was wearing shorts, thus making his calves a wreck with all the activity, they were denim; they’d last, anyway.

“We’re gonna catch up and kick your ASS, Connor!”

Whoever had yelled that--Gabe, Brandon or the mystery guy that Casey didn’t even know--said it like they’d meant it. ‘Of course they mean it…’ Casey thought. He caught his breath after the next fence-hop, which landed him into a small, enclosed backyard. Looking past the large house ahead, he saw a street; it made him turn left to run through the path between house and garage. In his trying to look over his shoulder to see if the three bullies were close, he didn’t notice the giant toolbox in his path.

The fall he took knocked the wind clear out of him; gravel scraped against his arms, chest and belly as he slid over the driveway. His eyes scrunched closed from the pain and fear, his mouth opening and closing, yet no breath or sound came.

“What the…”

Whoever had spoken, Casey didn’t know; he knew it wasn’t one of the bullies, but he wouldn’t open his eyes to see. The boy finally choked out a gasping breath, then inhaled. His fists curled and he waited…

“HEY… Tyler.”

Gabe… close by and ready to turn the corner and find him. Casey waited…

“What the hell are you doing in my yard?”

“Did you see Casey fuckin’ Connor come through here? We uh… have a score to settle.”

Didn’t they see him already? Casey finally dared to turn his head and look past his shoulder towards where he’d come from; his sight was blurry from shock and tears, but he realized that he’d landed just past the garage, and was hidden by its wall. Still, he waited…

“I haven’t seen shit. Get outta here--take your fuck-buddies with you.”

“Excuse me… what?”

Casey finally focused enough on the person he could see, then cringed. Even though he hadn’t ever taken a swing at Casey, Zeke Tyler managed to scare the living shit out of the boy. He was dark, moody, and vicious… at least he emoted such, but that was all it took. Casey tried to move, to get onto his feet, but he couldn’t.

“You heard.”

“Think you’re tough, huh, Tyler? Nothing says we can’t switch plans and take YOUR ass out,” Brandon growled out.

If Casey hadn’t felt fear before, he felt it now; he had no idea where the gun Zeke now held out came from, but he was pointing it towards where the guys had to have stood. “Yea? What?”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy! Put that shit away!” Gabe practically squealed.

“Get… out,” Zeke said, with nothing but absolute warning in his voice. He waved the gun towards them. “THAT way.”

It went silent, except for the sound of sneakers on gravel, sounding off the bullies’ exit. Casey shuddered out a breath, though of relief or pain, he didn’t know. Perhaps it was both… then again, what relief? He’d somehow managed to land himself into ANOTHER problem, namely Zeke, who was now backing off and putting the gun back past the waist of his jeans. Perhaps Casey didn’t feel safe, but he figured it was safe enough to start coughing… a lot… loudly.

“Jesus Christ,” Zeke grumbled his way over. He knelt down to his toolbox and picked it up, along with the many items scattered around. “How big and black does something have to be before you fucking miss it, Connor?”

“Didn’t…” Casey wheezed out. He furrowed his brow and rested it on his arm.

“You hurt?”

Zeke wasn’t stupid--Casey knew this. He pretended to be stupid, in school, which pissed Casey off. However, the question was mindless. Casey tried moving himself up on his arms, needing a full minute to get on his knees. “Everything.”

“Hmm?”

“Everything… hurts.”

Zeke sighed and gave Casey a long look. “Judging by how you look, I’m surprised you didn’t take a beating. You’d probably look better.”

“Then why ask if I’m hurt??” Casey snapped. “You can see it, r-right?”

Raising an eyebrow, Zeke brought the toolbox over to the car, which sat only a few feet away. Casey realized then that he’d just missed slamming his head into it when he’d fallen. “I’m halfway through an oil change, but if you wait, I can give you a ride home,” Zeke told him.

Casey blinked; he looked towards the young man, who was settling down to get under his car, using a long piece of cardboard to lay on. Suddenly, Zeke didn’t feel as dangerous as he usually did. “Yea… okay.”

“Wanna shower first? You‘re a fuckin’ train wreck,” Zeke asked.

“Um…” Casey murmured. He ignored the ‘train wreck’ comment to ask, “Why… why are you being so nice to me?”

Zeke looked past one of the wheels to set his eyes on Casey again. “I could be mean, if you want,” he replied. Casey couldn’t say anything back, it seemed. If Zeke was going to be nice, he was going to be nice--and Casey was going to have to take the kindness offered. Seeming to take Casey’s silence as an answer, Zeke sighed and returned to his work. “Through the house to the front, upstairs, first door on the left.”


~*~


It couldn’t be helped; Casey had never really enjoyed a bath before. The bathroom at his parents house only had a shower stall, even though Casey’s mother had begged for a real bathtub for years now. Here in Zeke’s bathroom, there was a large, glorious looking tub. With the way Casey’s body ached and pleaded for relief, he had no choice but to fill the thing and settle into hot, soothing water. The tub was so deep, his whole body up to his chin was encased in heat. He figured he could allow himself such, as he’d most likely finish before Zeke was done with the--

“I offer a shower, and you go on and use up my hot water.”

Zeke’s sudden presence in the bathroom startled Casey something fierce. He sat up quickly and grabbed the sides of the tub. Once again, he was vulnerable and nervous--naked even, this time. It couldn’t have been more tense if he tried. Still, defiance reared its head. “Showers take up more hot water, y’know,” he answered. “That’s the truth.”

“Just givin’ you shit, take a bath--I don’t care,” Zeke grumbled as he made his way over to the sink.

Casey watched the young man wash his hands, seeing the water turn gray from where he sat. He then realized… “Um… I’m kinda in the tub, here,” he said, curling his knees in a little. He was thankful for the clouded state of the tub water, but still…

“Correction; you’re in MY tub, and I needed to wash my hands. No dish-soap at the kitchen sink, and… fuck, I ain’t gonna justify myself,” Zeke answered. “Plus, I gotta take a shit.”

“Wha…?” Casey irked out. Sure enough, Zeke turned off the tap, took the two steps to the toilet and began undoing his jeans. “Wait a fuckin’ second! I--”

“What? It’s my goddamned bathroom, I can do what I want,” Zeke said.

This was madness; Casey went to move, hoping he could get out before--but not only did his body scream in protest when he tried lifting himself up, he couldn’t find a towel anywhere nearby. “Can you… wait, can you grab me a towel first so I can get out?” he asked, his muscles seeming to weep at the prospect of leaving the cocoon of warmth.

“Just get out and get one… there’re a couple in the closet there,” Zeke said with a nod towards the small, latticed doorway.

“But--”

“Too late,” Zeke said. Sure enough, his pants were dropped to his ankles and he sat. He grabbed up a car magazine and sighed. “Yea, that’s what I’m talking about.”

Casey couldn’t believe what was happening. He sank down into the tub, hoping to escape somehow. At the first ‘bathroom noise’, he cringed. “Jesus…” he muttered. He put his head even lower to dip his ears past the surface of the water. It took another loud, rumbling sound to remind him that noise traveled better through liquids and solids than air. “Zeke, couldn’t this have waited?” he asked in a desperate tone.

“Um… no,” Zeke said.

“Fuck,” Casey murmured. He took a deep breath--then regretted it. “Zeke! What the fuck did you EAT today??”

“Oh, deal with it. Like you’ve never taken a shit before,” Zeke said. He even chuckled at the next small noise he made.

“You’re mature.”

“And you’ve got boobs.”

Casey shot his eyes over to look at the reading, bathroom-ing young man. “What?” he hissed.

“Yea. Lil’ ‘baby-fat-boobs’,” Zeke replied. “They’re cute.”

This was unreal. Casey looked down on himself and stared at his b--chest, for a full ten seconds. They weren’t THAT bad… were they? “I’m not fat, though.”

“I said ‘baby fat’. You’ve barely hit puberty, that’s all.”

“I have, shut up,” Casey defensively replied.

“Maybe, but not by…” Zeke said, but drifted off a moment. Casey frowned and watched him, wondering why he looked so pensive. He realized what an idiot he was when he heard a distinctive splash and saw the smile Zeke wore. “Ah… much.”

“You’re fucking gross,” Casey snapped. Zeke cocked an eyebrow at him, but he shook his head and kept scowling. “Yea, I said it. You offer me a bath--”

“Shower,” Zeke corrected.

“Whatever. You offered me a shower, then come in here unannounced to take this wild shit, acting PROUD about it, and… yea,” Casey rambled.

“Eh, it gets lonely around here.”

“What, you can’t take a crap around your parents?” Casey asked.

“Nope,” Zeke said. He then reached into his jeans’ pocket, took out his cigarettes and lit one up. “There, that help?”

“Yes, actually. It does,” Casey answered. He almost smiled, though why, he wasn’t sure. “Where ARE your parents?”

“Eh, Europe somewhere. Maybe South America, I haven’t gotten a call in a while,” Zeke said.

Casey blinked a few times. “Y’mean, they just leave you here?”

“Left, Casey, past tense. Past-tense-permanent, really. It’s no big deal,” Zeke said through a cloud of smoke. He didn’t sound affected, but it still left Casey feeling doubtful--even sad.

“Do ya miss ‘em?”

Zeke snorted. “No,” he chuckled out. “It gets lonely, but no.”

“Oh.”

“So, you say you’ve hit puberty…”

Casey rolled his eyes and put his head back. “Yes, Zeke.”

“And you have boobs.”

“Whatever.”

“So… you’re a girl.”

Casey’s teeth clenched; gone was the sympathy for the permanent latch-key kid. “Okay, look--if you wanna push me around, wait ‘til I get out of the tub so that maybe I can push you BACK,” he sternly said.

“Man, can’t just mess around with you, huh?” Zeke asked.

“Everyone does. You said you’d be nice, okay? So be nice.”

The statement Casey made seemed to make the look on Zeke’s face soften. He glanced over the magazine to the boy and smirked. “Yea, I said that. I say a lot of shit, though.”

“You make a lot of it, too,” Casey retorted.

“That I do. Done now, though.”

“Thank god.”

“Uh huh. Look at the wall, will ya?”

Confused, Casey frowned. “Huh?” he said, causing Zeke to roll HIS eyes.

“The wall. Look at it,” he said, pointing to the wall to Casey’s right.

“Uh…”

“I need to wipe, look at the wall, damn it.”

It was Casey’s turn to snort. “So you come in here, drop trou’, then get all self-conscious when it comes to this?” he said, but turned away anyway. He hummed to himself, not wanting to hear anything… else. It wasn’t long before he heard the toilet being flushed, and he looked back. He immediately dropped his eyes, however, as Zeke was now standing, his pants still hanging WAY too low and he urinated. “Couldn’t do that while shitting, huh?”

“A man never sits to pee.”

He had to say that. Casey never used the urinals at school, choosing the stalls instead. Even then, he’d sit, feeling safer about it. He hoped Zeke had never been clued in to that…

Now fully through his bathroom routine, Zeke washed his hands again. At least he was clean about it. Once the water was turned off, Casey watched him go over to the small closet, open it and take a large, fluffy towel out. He slapped it down on the toilet lid and turned back to look at Casey. “Do you, uh…” he started, but he just stood there staring a moment. Casey blinked hard and brought his arms inwards.

“What? Staring at my baby-fat?” he spat.

Zeke corner-smiled. “Do you have any clothes? Those shorts looked pretty beat up.”

Damn it… never mind the shorts. “I don’t have a shirt,” Casey mumbled.

“Yea,” Zeke said. He rubbed his lips a moment then nodded to himself. “I might have something. Just… get out and go across the hall to my room, I might have some stuff leftover from like… fourth grade.”

“Uh huh,” Casey said. He rolled his eyes and waited until Zeke had left to try and move. With a few gentle but firm movements, he was standing and stepping out of the tub. The scratches and cuts along his legs still stung, but the skin had softened enough to offer ease of movement. Casey grabbed up the towel and wrapped it around himself, finding it quite soft and comfortable. ‘He probably washed it himself,’ he thought, half-fond, half-sad. He dried up, rubbed-down and wrapped the cloth around himself, then left the bathroom.

Zeke stood at his closet in his room, rooting through it. He glanced over to Casey and raised his eyebrows. “Found a few,” he said, tossing two shirts and pairs of shorts Casey’s way. If these clothes were, in fact, from Zeke’s fourth grade wardrobe, he’d been six-feet tall at age ten. Still, it’d do. Casey managed to find shorts that wouldn't fall off of his slight frame--it wasn't as if Zeke himself was fat, just fucking tall--then moved on to the shirts. He chose a plain black one, thinned out from years of use and being stuck in the closet untouched for years, more than likely. He fluffed it out then looked up to find Zeke staring at him again, wearing a big grin. “What?” Casey muttered in question.

“Nothing. They’re just cute.”

“What’s cute?”

Zeke pointed to Casey’s chest. “They just are.”

“Fucking…” Casey scowled out. He threw the shirt over himself quickly, though it took a moment to put on completely. It was a giant maze of cloth, this thing… “Why are you checking out my BOOBS, for god’s--”

Before the shirt could fully cover him and let his head go free, he felt a sudden poke at his right nipple. He jumped back and emerged; Zeke stood a foot away, grinning like a cat who’d had the cream. “Sorry. Had to,” he said.

“Just… t-take me home now,” Casey stammered. He didn’t wait for Zeke to show them out, choosing to brush past him and head downstairs.


~*~


“Oh… g-god…”

Casey’s legs twisted and curled up; he splayed them wide open, allowing more room for his hand to work. The low light of the streetlamps came through his window, making an art-deco kind of pattern on his ceiling. He stared at the slats of light, then looked down to his shuddering knees.

There’d been many faces he’d put in his mind since he first discovered self-pleasure, but most of them were nameless… anonymous and safe. Tonight, he allowed himself a bit more than that. He pumped his cock harder and faster, every muscle clenching and tightening like a bowstring. It wasn’t hard to imagine the scenario…

He left out the uncomfortable things, and instead of Zeke doing… what he’d done, he’d come into the bathroom and climbed into the tub. Casey figured that his body was small enough to be enveloped in Zeke’s, Casey’s legs and arms going around the firm waist and hips of the brooding young man. He could sit in Zeke’s lap easily… he knew that. They’d send water splashing and sploshing out of that tub, but they’d barely notice. Zeke would bite--Casey knew he would.

Throughout the fantasizing, Casey’s free hand fisted over his chest, grabbing onto the small swell of his breast past the cloth of Zeke’s shirt. Christ… he did have fucking boobs. He almost scowled, until he thought back to how Zeke had looked at him… how he’d touched that one nipple, then imagined Zeke biting and licking at it instead. Oh, yes… he’d take the role of a girl, if he could just have that…

His cock seemed to jolt in his hand at the first string of cum escaping; Casey clenched his hand tighter over his chest as he emptied. With his parents asleep just two rooms away, he couldn’t scream and howl as he wanted. He bit down on his lip so hard, he tasted blood.

Casey turned into gelatin now, spent and sated… sort of. He brought his soaked hand up and looked at it, hypnotized at the shimmering wet he’d made. Without thinking, he took up the hem of the shirt and ran a finger over it, wetting it--marking it.

He wouldn’t be giving it back, anyway.