High Society

A sudden snowstorm had interrupted the odd warm weather, chilling the house. It was predicted that it wouldn’t be a busy night; Casey was secretly glad for it, both for himself and Zeke. The young man had barely slept, tossing and turning all night long, which meant that Casey had stayed concerned and had also missed out on a good night’s rest. It was nice to sit with Noah by the fireplace in the parlor, the usual quiet conversation letting Casey relax. Loud noises were not appreciated, so he avoided the pool table where almost everyone had decided to play.



At this point, Casey was not only fluent in signing the alphabet, but had learned many words. He was able to actually ‘talk’ without needing to sign many things out at once. It was even better when it came to following Noah, not needing him to go slow so Casey could keep up.



It was then that Jamie arrived with Zeke in tow. They each held a book and talked in low tones. James looked up from the ball he’d missed and asked, “Where’s Stephen?”



“Napping. He has a few sniffles, so he’s resting up,” Jamie replied.



“Ooh! The things we could do…” Danny said. He then brightened. “I have an idea!”



“Wonderful,” Henry sarcastically said.



“Let’s play a game. One of the Johns told me about it.” Danny scooted over to the desk on the other side of the room and drew out a pad and pencils. “It’s kind of like spin-the-bottle, only with names.”



“Names?” Jamie inquired.



Casey became confused. “What’s spin-the-bottle?” he asked. Everyone paused to stare at him a moment, then burst out into laughter. Once again, Casey was made to feel self-conscious. “What now?”



“Silly boy. Spin-the-bottle is when everyone sits around in a circle, and a bottle is spun in the middle. So if you spin it and it lands on me, we plant a kiss on each other,” James explained.



“Oh,” was all Casey could say. “Can’t we get in trouble for that?”



“What, kissing? Pfft. That’s not a big deal to Steve. Anyway, he’s out like a light,” Danny said. “No, listen; what we do is write our middle name on a piece of paper. We put it in a hat, shake ‘em around, then each one of us picks one. We have to guess who it is; if you get it right…” He nodded to one of the closets across the room. “Five minutes in the closet.”



“Ooh, that IS interesting,” James said. “I’m game!”



Danny clapped. “Excellent! Who else?”



Casey looked around the room, watching others nod in agreement. Jose and Noah, of course, had no clue as to what they were talking about, while Zeke looked completely disinterested. That would leave Jamie, James, Danny, Henry and Casey.



“Casey?” Danny said, waving a hat towards him.



“All right,” Casey replied.



“Good! We have five… Zeke? C’mon,” James said.



Zeke rolled his eyes. “It’s stupid.”



“Is not! What are you, scared?” Danny teased.



Casey smiled then turned to Noah. It wouldn’t be fair to leave him out, so he signed, ‘Danny wants to play a sort of kissing game.’ Noah quirked an eyebrow and shook his head; Casey pouted a little, making him chuckle.



‘No thanks. They wouldn’t want me anyway,’ he replied. ‘In spin-the-bottle, I’m the wild card. They land on me, they can pick someone else.’



This made Casey frown and continue signing with a vehemence. ‘That’s so rude!’



‘I don’t mind. Why men pay to sleep with these dopes is beyond me.’ Noah said; now Casey laughed.



‘OK, OK.’



“FINE, Jesus, just shut up,” Zeke practically yelled as he sauntered over to the group getting ready to play. Casey followed, sadly leaving Noah behind. He’d bet the boy was a good kisser… he was glad to see him go over to the chessboard with Jose for a game.



Everyone passed the paper and pencils around; Casey jotted Daniel on a slip, folded it then tossed it into the hat. With everyone finished, Danny began mixing the papers around. “We’ll go clockwise, and I’m first,” he said.



“Of course you are. Brat.” Henry said.



Danny stuck his tongue out at him, then pulled out a paper. He peered at the name and clucked his tongue. “Andrew. Hmm…” he looked around the circle, then stopped on Henry. “You?”



“Nope.”



“Damn!” Danny said, throwing the paper back. “Well, at least we can narrow it down. Here you go, Zekie-boy.”



With a bored expression on his face, Zeke took the hat and dipped his fingers in. It was brought up, read… “Daniel.”



“Hey! That’s me!”



“Your full name is ‘Daniel Daniel Preston’?” Henry asked.



“No…”



Casey went stiff; he hoped it wasn’t noticeable. Before he could start sweating, Zeke tossed it back. “Jose.”



“Que?” Jose called.



Everyone groaned. “Oh, COME on,” Danny said.



“What? I guess Jose.”



“Que?”



“We’re not talking to you,” Henry shouted. Jose rolled his eyes and continued playing with Noah.



“Whatever, you party-pooper. Henry? Your turn,” Danny said.



Henry’s guess (“Uh… Victor… Danny?”) ended up being wrong as well; Casey became nervous as the hat was handed to him. “C’mon, Casey, be the first to guess right!” Jamie said.



Casey grinned and picked out a paper.



Patrick



“What is it?” James asked.



“Patrick,” Casey said. He scanned each face looking for clues. Everyone looked blank, not giving anything away. There really wasn’t any way to guess… but when he looked at Zeke, he was brought back to their bedroom. The painting, its initials: EPT. “Umm… Zeke?”



Zeke’s eyes widened; everyone noticed. Danny was first to whoop with delight, of course. “OOH! Lookit that!”



“Oh, fuck this,” Zeke said with distaste.



“What? You’re not gonna hurt lil’ Casey’s feelings, are ya?” Henry asked.



“C’mon--up, up, up,” James said. “Closet time!”



Zeke looked at Casey, pursing his lips tight. “Fine. C’mon.”



A closet had never looked so foreboding before. Casey wished he’d said, “Noah,” now. His skin prickled as he and Zeke went to the closet, opened the door and stepped inside. The chorus of laughter from the others was blocked out when Zeke shut them in, along with the light.



“Good guess. How’d you know?” Zeke asked.



“Um… I saw your initials on the painting upstairs. The ‘P’… figured it was you.”



“So you wanted us to get in here. You could’ve faked a wrong guess, y’know.”



Casey sniffed in hard and shrugged. He stared at Zeke’s silhouette, wondering what would come next. “Maybe I wanted to be the one to break the ice when it came to this silly game,” he replied.



“Riiight,” Zeke drawled. “Well, c’mere.”



“No. You first.”



There was a smack of lips, and the shadow of Zeke moved in closer. Both of his hands went over Casey’s shoulders to brace against the wall. “You’re gonna tell everyone I was great, even if I ain’t,” he said just before he put their lips together.



Dennis had been rough. Cal was sweet. The other johns? Casey could care less. Zeke… definitely different. He was spiced, the cigarettes more than likely; Casey could smell his freshly-washed hair as strands of it tickled his nose. With his head craned upwards, he began to feel sore. He rectified this by pulling Zeke down, easing his position. That was when the kiss became deeper, and their mouths opened together.



‘Dear god in… oh, fuck,’ Casey thought. He felt like he was filled with air, ready to float off to another world. Zeke dropped his hands to Casey’s waist; Casey gasped as their lips came apart and he was pulled up and braced against the wall by Zeke’s stomach and hips. Their faces were even now… Casey’s lips shook when Zeke returned, brushing their mouths together. That soon changed into the hungriest, deepest kiss Casey had ever experienced. He mewled and bucked forward, his shoulders being the only support he had against the wall. To keep from falling, he put his hands to Zeke’s back and dug his fingertips in; Zeke hissed quick, hot breaths through his nose and broke away.



“Don’t… do that.”



“Do wh-what?”



“I’m still sore.”



Casey realized where his hands were. He swallowed and brought them down to Zeke’s sides, fisting his t-shirt. “S… Sorry,” he said.



“S’okay,” Zeke replied. “You ain’t half-bad.”



“Yea… yea, neither are you,” Casey said with a nervous chuckle. He bent forward to take another kiss, which Zeke allowed. They went slower and softer this time, relishing the contact between them.



“HEY! Danny guessed right, hurry up!!” James yelled from the other side.



Both boys stopped everything; Casey could see Zeke’s glare as he turned to yell, “Our five minutes aren’t up yet, idiot!”



“Ooh… hear that?”



“Zeke and Casey, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S--”



“Christ,” Zeke said. “Mood’s gone.”



“No… c’mon,” Casey said before he could stop himself. Zeke sighed, took one more kiss then let Casey back on his feet.



“This is dumb. Let’s get back out there, let Danny have his fun with… whatever poor sap he picked.”



Disappointment filled Casey as he had to narrow his eyes when the light of the room returned with Zeke’s opening the door. Danny stood just past it, holding James’ hand. “C’mon, loverboy,” he said, climbed past Casey and shoved him out. Casey stumbled into the room, feeling dizzy and incomplete.



“How was he?” Henry asked.



“F… F-fine.” Casey answered. Zeke was back with his book on the couch, looking completely unaffected. “It was good.”



“I’ll say,” Jamie said. He nodded to Casey’s groin and snorted. “Should you two head up to the bedroom?”



Casey knocked his knees together, embarrassed beyond belief. Instead of rejoining the others, he sneaked over to Noah and Jose. Even if he spent the next hour watching them play in complete silence, he didn’t feel like playing the closet-game anymore.



Every now and then, he’d glance over to Zeke--still reading, and probably would be for a while. Casey couldn’t help the strange want that had built up within him. Being with a client was his job, but being with Zeke in that closet was different; much different. It was for fun, where he hadn’t been paid to be with a stranger. Would it continue to be awkward, especially when they shared a room? Casey tried stuffing his feelings down, knowing that it would do him no good to keep thinking about it.



Stephen now entered the room; thankfully, no one was in the closet. The remaining players still moved away from each other, making them look suspicious. Stephen didn’t pay it any mind, as he was concentrating on blowing his nose. “Hello, boys. Having fun?”



“Yea… but you’re not, eh?” James said.



“Ugh, just a cold. I’m going to make tea,” Stephen replied. He looked to Zeke and raised his eyebrows. “First, if I could talk to you for a moment in the office, Zeke?”



Zeke closed his book, shooting glances around the room to everyone there. Casey began to worry; did Stephen somehow know what had gone on? He continued to stare at the chessboard, hoping he wouldn’t be called into the office next.



Some time passed. Jamie had decided to turn on the radio, putting it on a news station. As they all listened to depressing, down-and-out stories involving the crisis going on, Casey lit a cigarette and stood up from his seat. He passed by the door on his way to the couch, allowing him to hear a door close down the hall. When he looked out, he saw Zeke walking down with brisk steps. Instead of returning to the parlor, he sped up the stairs. If Casey was right, the young man was upset about something.



It had to be the closet--it had to be. Casey chose not to stick around and wait for Stephen to call him to the office. If the man wanted to speak with him, he could do so in their bedroom. Casey made his exit, went up the flights of stairs and walked into the bedroom. Zeke was there, fussing over his books. “Hey. Everything all right?” Casey asked.



“No.”



“Oh. Why? We aren’t in trouble, are we?”



Zeke gave him a confused look. “‘We’?”



“Yea. The closet… thing,” Casey said. Zeke rolled his eyes.



“No, you dolt. Stephen’s switched a few things around, that’s all,” he said.



“What do you mean?”



“Stop being so fucking nosy. Jesus Christ,” Zeke spat back.



Casey parted his lips and blinked fast. “What’s your problem? You don’t have to keep shutting me out and treating me like dirt.”



“I don’t… ugh,” Zeke slammed a book onto his shelf and lit a cigarette. “My role here’s changed. I’m gonna be doing the fucking, instead of being a switch-hitter. No more getting fucked for me.”



“Oh. Well…” Casey sighed. “Maybe that’s a good thing, after what happened last night.”



“Yea? What do YOU know?” Zeke angrily replied. “Do you even know how much cash I make from the ones wanting a butch-boy to fuck?”



“I’m sure of it; I’ll bet they pay more to bite and bruise, and tip well for it,” Casey retorted. Zeke wore a vicious expression, but Casey didn’t care. “It’s damaged you, Zeke. Stephen’s right to be concerned--”



“I am not ‘damaged’. I’m fine.”



“After what I saw last night…?”



Zeke sniffed hard and went over to the boy. His mean look and posture made Casey back up against the closed door. Now wearing a wicked grin, Zeke slapped a hand onto the door over Casey’s shoulder and leaned in. “You saw nothing. So I had a bit of a bad time, so what?” Zeke said. “Who knows… maybe your time as an angel has run out. Plenty of guys would pay to mark you, would LOVE to make you cry. Wanna take my place?”



“No.”



“Of course not. As well you shouldn’t. You’re not made for that. I am,” Zeke said. He backed away, his smiling disappearing. “So get off my back.”



“I’m not on it--don’t wanna hurt you, remember?” Casey said.



Zeke scowled and turned away to his bookshelf again. “Yea, good one.”



Casey looked down at his feet; he slid one over the floor, scuffing it absently. He didnt want to talk about unpleasant subjects anymore, so he switched gears. “You kiss well,” he said.



“So I’ve been told.”



“Like… really, really good. You got me going,” Casey said. Now wearing a coy grin, he walked over to his bed and flopped down upon it. “Did you have any real relationships before all of this?”



“One. I dunno if you could call it a relationship, we just fucked a lot. I’m not one to be tied down. Well…” he chuckled a little, and it was good to hear. “Not in a steady relationship way.”



“I get it,” Casey said.



“Has anyone done anything like that with you before?”



“Y’mean a steady?”



“No. Like… tied down. Any clients do that yet?”



Casey swallowed and stared at his outstretched legs. “No. Think someone will?”



“Oh, yea. I’m surprised no one’s done it yet. Stephen would allow it, as long as it didn’t get too rough,” Zeke said. He gazed at Casey for a moment, wearing a soft, pensive expression. He turned away and snuffed his cigarette out in the ashtray. “You’d be good for it.”



“Might be fun…” Casey drifted off, now smiling wide.



“Yea, it is. I won’t be getting that anymore, so… yea.”



Casey yawned, hard. “I think… I’m gonna take a nap.”



“Hmm--not a half-bad idea.”



Without anything else to say, Casey closed his eyes and settled into the mattress. He pulled his sheet over him, leaving it tangled around his waist; he began drifting off. The light was shut off and Zeke followed suit. “’Night,” Zeke said. Casey smiled and melted into sleep.





~*~





The prediction of a slow night had come true; it had passed quickly, with only two men showing up. Both of them had been new customers, who hadn’t had the money for the fuck-parlor, never mind private rooms. They’d been given a great time, having all the boys to themselves. Plenty of rub-downs, sneaky grabs and kisses had been given to them, and they’d promised to return at payday.



By Thursday, most of the snow had been cleared from the streets and sidewalks, allowing many men to walk through the doors. Casey watched everyone from the corner of the parlor; it had been an hour, and he’d remained untouched thus far. He didn’t mind it, but once again, he wanted to see Cal walk in as he’d said he would. And once again, he was late.



It was then that a distinct looking man walked in, wearing a long coat. All-black clothing was underneath, the collar of his shirt tight around his neck. He had a thin frame, dark hair--very attractive, though he looked unsure. Seeing as Casey was bored out of his mind, he went to leave his corner to approach the man. He’d only taken three steps when suddenly, Jose was at his side. It made Casey jump. “Jose, what--”



“¡Por favor, no haga! ¡Es padre Micheal!” Jose interrupted. His panic-stricken face concerned Casey; it made him want to be fluent in Spanish so he could understand what the boy was trying to tell him.



“I don’t… understand…?”



“Engendre a Michael, mi sacerdote… de mi iglesia… oh, mi dios…” Jose’s eyes filled with tears. “¿Qué él está haciendo aquí?”



Casey’s eyes darted from side-to-side, desperate to know what was going on. He spotted Zeke at the bar, sipping a drink while talking to Abe. “C’mon,” Casey said, taking Jose’s hand and leading him over to them. Once there, Casey shook his head. “Zeke--he’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t understand.”



Abe looked between them all, confused. Zeke blinked and turned to Jose. “¿Cuál es incorrecto?”



“Mi sacerdote está aquí… no, éste no puede ser…”



“Ohh… shit,” Zeke said with realization.



“What’s HE so worked up about?” Henry came over and asked, with James tagging along. Jose looked bereft, holding his forehead and breathing hard.



“¿Cuál es él?” Zeke asked the boy.



James frowned. “Wait, you know Spanish? Since when?”



Ignoring him, Zeke looked over to where Jose was pointing. Zeke then shook his head and lit a cigarette. “Jose’s priest, Father Michael just showed up--the guy in black talking to Danny.”



“¡No, no ese Danny híbrido!” Jose said in a hiss. “Debo decir a Stephen sobre esto…”



“Now he wants to tell on him to Stephen. Christ,” Zeke said.



“Oh, god,” Casey said. Henry was chuckling however; James joined him.



“He doesn’t recognize Jose? Blimey, how attentive he is to his parishioners,” James remarked.



Casey looked back to the scene and swallowed; if Jose was this upset with just this man’s entrance, he was probably ready for a coronary with the way Father Michael’s hand was sliding around Danny’s waist. After a few moments, the man led Danny over to Stephen, obviously asking for a room or the fuck-parlor. It ended up being the latter; Jose shook his head with a vehemence.



“¿Cómo podría él… cómo PODRÍA él?” he nearly yelled before he scurried off towards the door leading out to the hallway then up the stairs. Everyone watched him go with shocked expressions.



“He can’t just… leave, can he?” Casey asked.



“Nope. Ah, there goes Stephen,” Henry said; sure enough, the man followed the boy upstairs. Henry then punched Zeke in the arm. “What the hell--you know Spanish?”



“Um, yea… just a little.”



“A little my arse. Sneaky bastard,” James said, chuckling through the words.



“So now we have Casey all buddy-buddy with Noah, and you and Jose have probably been talking behind our backs. Great,” Henry said.



“Oh, shut it. We have not,” Zeke said.



Casey had to grin at Zeke’s lying, as he’d divulged the secrets of his and Jose’s ‘communication’ when it came to the others here. While the others began chuckling about Jose’s predicament, Casey tried being the voice of reason. “C’mon, guys. Jose’s… really upset.”



“It’s funny, and you know it,” Zeke said.



“Maybe, but…” Casey did have to chuckle, but he recovered with a shake of his head. “I hope Stephen’s calming him down--maybe Father Boy-Lover won’t come back after tonight--”



Whatever else Casey was going to say slipped away when a hand came from behind, sliding to his stomach. He turned, expecting Cal to be standing there, but blinked in confusion when he found Brandon, the man who’d enjoyed Casey’s weepy eyes and expressions. Casey looked next to him to see another man--not the other one from the threesome, Wally. His hair was messy and looked to be in need of a washing, his stomach paunchy and he had a lecherous gaze, just as bad as Wally’s. “Oh… hello,” Casey said.



“Hello, pretty-eyes. We’re here,” Brandon said. “Wally couldn’t come… I hope that’s all right. I brought another friend of mine, Robert.”



“That’s… okay,” Casey replied. He tried giving a small smile to Robert, who was licking his lower lip and looking hungry. “Hello.”



“Hello,” he said.



“We’re waiting for Stephen to come back, then we’re taking you upstairs. We’ll need a private room this time,” Brandon said in a foreboding tone.



“Oh, that’s just fine. Yes,” Casey said. He wondered why there was a ‘need’ to be private--he knew Brandon was rough, and was sure that Robert was as well. Before he could ask about it, Brandon leaned in, took a nip of his ear and chuckled lightly.



“You’re going to cry again, you know,” he whispered.





~*~





When the paid-bedroom door shut behind them, Robert tossed his jacket on a nearby chair. “This is nice,” he said. He immediately ventured over to the wine sitting on ice in the corner; he didn’t bother with the glasses, choosing to uncork it and take a swig straight from the bottle. “Ah… that’s even nicer.”



Casey took tentative steps to the bed and sat upon the edge. He watched as the men shared the bottle with each other, muttering things he couldn’t hear. With his arms crossed over his chest, apprehension began filling his every pore. Their derisive chuckling and sly glances they gave Casey weren’t very reassuring. He became impatient, wanting to know what their plans were. “What… are we going to do?”



“Shut up,” Brandon said. Casey stilled and stared at the man, who took the bottle from Robert and held it out to Casey. “Have some. We want you loosened up.”



“All… right…” Casey took the bottle and lifted it to his lips. He could smell the men’s breath, the taste of their mouths as he drank. At least one of them left a foul odor to it, and it was easy to guess who; Robert was in dire need of a dental visit. Casey creased his brow, took one last gulp and went to hand the bottle back.



“No. More.”



“I’m… not sure if I’m supposed to get tipsy--”



“Stephen said it was okay. If you don’t fucking believe me, you can go downstairs and ask him yourself,” Brandon said, his voice cold and snide.



Figuring that the man was telling the truth, Casey nodded and began drinking again. His belly grew warm with the alcohol, and his head was already starting to spin. He wished that he’d partaken of the buffet to get something in him, but he hadn’t eaten for hours now; the wine he’d already drank would most certainly make him more drunk than he’d ever been.



After three large, successive gulps, Brandon took the bottle from him. He gave it to Robert, who took one last swig then replaced it in the ice. “Now then… let’s get our money’s worth, shall we,” Robert said.



“Yes, let’s,” Brandon said. Without warning he grabbed Casey’s wrist and pulled him from the bed. The boy was shoved towards Robert; the man’s ham-sized hands gripped his arms, turned Casey’s back to him and pressed forward. Casey’s chest pushed out, showing off his heaving breaths.



“What… are you going to--” he went to ask, but Brandon grabbed his chin and cheeks in one hand; he squeezed hard and leaned in to give Casey a glare.



“Shut up, lil’ bitch. A whore like you doesn’t get to have any say in this. Understood?” he said. Casey nodded quickly, not wanting to anger the man further. Brandon let him go with a small shove to the right. It made Casey’s face turn to Robert’s armpit; the smell coming from it made him swallow and want to gag. Brandon smiled. “Whores like you… aren’t you ashamed of yourself? You’re actually going to let us do whatever we want to you, for anyone willing to pay for that lil’ peach of an ass you’ve got.”



“It’s a right-fine one, too,” Robert added. He then let one of Casey’s arms go to grab the front of Casey’s trousers and undo the buttons. Casey went shock-still as he pulled the cloth from his waist to dig his hand from behind. His fingers gripped one side of Casey’s ass and kneaded it roughly. Casey couldn’t help the squirming and gasps, especially when one of the fingers went to his cleft. The tip of the digit rubbed in an awkward circle, leaving no room for Casey’s pleasure. “He’s so hot and tight.”



“We’ve caught you in an alley… you don’t like us at all, because we want to do many, many things to you,” Brandon said.



Rape role-play… Casey wasn’t sure he could do it. “I… I-I can’t be marked…”



“We KNOW that, stupid. Stephen’s already disappointed us,” Brandon said.



“Stupid bitch,” Robert said. He began gnawing at Casey’s ear, filling Casey’s nostrils with a terrible scent. “Beg for me to stop fingering you. Go on.”



“Pl-Please…” Casey mustered up his best sad, pleading voice. “Please, I don’t like it!”



“Louder. Let everyone in the building hear you--Stephen’s already told them all to ignore it,” Brandon ordered, just as he grabbed the front of Casey’s fine shirt and tore it open. Casey jumped and gasped, over and over again.



“STOP! Please, leave me alone!” he said in a scream. When Brandon began molesting his front, grazing calloused fingers on his nipples, it started feeling all too real. ‘It’s just a game, it’s just a game,’ Casey tried thinking. Still, tears began welling in his eyes. “You’re hurting me…”



“Aw, so whiny. You’ve gotta do what we want, pretty-boy, or we’re gonna cut you,” Robert said. He brought out a jackknife and flicked it open then ran the flat edge over Casey’s chest. It stopped at his nipple; the tip was brought to it and swirled around the dark pink edges, giving extreme stimulation to Casey’s skin. Again, Casey could rationalize that he wasn’t actually going to cut him, but it scared him enough anyway.



Even more scary was how his cock was reacting; it filled and stiffened hard. Brandon grinned and put his hand against the swollen shaft to molest it through the loosened cloth of Casey’s pants. “Oh, lookie here. He likes it,” he said.



“No… no, I don’t…” Casey continued the ruse.



“Doesn’t matter if you do or don’t, sweetheart,” Brandon said. He pulled the shirt from Casey, making Robert let him go. With the man’s hand gone from his backside, the pants lowered further, exposing the boy all the way to the middle of his thighs. “Get on your knees,” Brandon ordered.



Casey complied; his lower lip shook as he spoke. “Please… don’t do this to me. Please,” he said. He accentuated the play by putting his hands on Brandon’s legs as he shook his head. “L-Let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”



“He’s gooood,” Robert drawled.



“Oh no, Robby. He’s very, very bad. He lets men fuck his ass for mere pennies.”



“Does he now?”



“Aw… look at this weepy thing,” Brandon said. He ran his finger over one of the trails a tear had left behind. After wiping it down, the man brought the digit to his lips and sucked the moisture from it. “Saltwater. Tastes so good.”



Casey’s head was suddenly jerked back by the hair; Robert crouched down and began lapping hungrily at Casey’s cheeks. “I like you. You’re so pretty when you cry,” he said in between sucks and licks. Casey cringed, his stomach turning--yet he still hardened further. He didn’t know how he could actually enjoy something like this, but he was.



“Put him on the bed. I want my turn first,” Brandon said, now whipping his belt off of his waist.



“Only if he sucks me while y’do,” Robert said. “Gonna shove that pretty face on me.”



“Of course.”



Casey was then grabbed under his arms, lifted then tossed on the bed. He landed in a haphazard manner but was soon straightened with Brandon grabbing his pants to pull them off and grabbing his ankles, opening his legs wide. “Bet you can’t get away from me, you slutty thing.”



Taking this cue, Casey tried pulling his legs away. “No, let me go!” he yelled. Brandon pulled his shoulders up; Casey gripped the coverlet with his hands, balling them into fists as his arms threatened to give way and let him fall back down.



“Get on the bed, Robby.”



The man did so, kneeling by Casey’s face. He undid his slacks and pulled his cock out. It was large, engorged with blood; Casey doubted that he could swallow it down, especially with the stench that came from it. “Pl-Please…”



“Give my balls a good sucking,” Robert said, but didn’t wait for Casey to comply. He grabbed the back of his head and pushed him upon himself, smothering his nose and mouth with acrid-tasting, loose skin. Casey had to hold his breath, but just moments after taking an intake of breath, Brandon began shoving his cock into his ass. This caused muffled squeals and gasps, which seemed to pleasure Robert to no end. “Y-Yea. Oh, that hit’s the spot, it does…”



“Gonna pound you raw, whore,” Brandon told him as he began thrusting with fervor. “Anyone else that has you is gonna wonder why your hole’s so red.”



“Wonder? They’ll know. He’s a slut,” Robert said. Brandon laughed then moaned.



“He is, y-yes.”



Forcing himself to keep licking at Robert, Casey rolled his hips to keep time with Brandon. As disgusting as this was, Casey surprised himself when he couldn’t hold back anymore. His cock began spurting onto the bed; Robert noticed and laughed out loud. “The lil’ bitch just came--an you believe it?”



“For real? He really LIKES us, doesn’t he? Ugh, hurry up--I don’t want to go just yet, but he’s too good,” Robert said.



“Mmm…” Brandon hummed just before his thrusting became quicker. He groaned out loud, one after the other, until Casey felt searing heat filling him. “Bitch!” Brandon yelled, then finally stilled. Casey could feel him shaking with the after effects of his orgasm.



“Are… we done… please…”



“I’ll clean him up before my turn,” Robert said. He moved off the bed, rounded around it and knelt down where Brandon had been. Casey didn’t have time to enjoy the open air; he became even more lightheaded when he felt a tongue slather over what Brandon had left behind. The trails of wet that ran down his thighs were lapped up by Robert’s eager mouth until he returned to start a good, solid suck over Casey’s hole.



“That’s right… suck me out of him,” Brandon told Robert as he lit a cigarette.



It was worse than before. Casey was starting to feel over-stimulated, high, even blissful… “Oh g-god,” Casey said. He heard a swallow and smack of lips from behind.



“You want me to pluck your ass, bitch?” Robert asked, his words an obvious taunt.



‘Yes, yes, yesss…’ Casey thought. “No… no, leave me alone!”



“Aw…” Robert cooed. He then began pushing his cock into Casey’s body; the boy stiffened straight and yelped.



“NO! Stop, please!!”



“Yea, keep begging,” Brandon said.



“Stop it! Get OFF of me, I don’t want this!” Just as he was about to groan and come all over again, he heard the sound of the door getting thrown open, hitting the wall next to it.



“You heard him--GET OFF of him!”





~*~





After vomiting twice and taking a long, hot shower, Casey still didn’t feel any better. It hadn’t been the men; he’d actually enjoyed the rough play. Perhaps THAT made him feel a little ill… perhaps it was the wine… no. The idea that there was an intense meeting going on in Stephen’s office made everything else fade away, leaving Casey to dress in slow, sad movements. He couldn’t face going down to the parlor again, where everyone would be buzzing about Cal’s uncalled-for interruption, and how loud the bellowing, yelling and smashing glass had been.



Casey sat on his bed, depressed and listless. He was fully prepared to find himself back on the streets, being seen as a liability to the house. All he could do was stare ahead at Zeke’s paintings--there was no one left in Ohio. No mother, no father; he’d been an only child. He couldn’t go back there… perhaps Stephen would be kind enough to loan him some money to find a place, then he could get a job to sustain himself.



No. It wouldn’t work. His stomach rolled when a knock came on the door. “Yes?” he feebly called. The door opened and Zeke stepped inside. Casey almost growled with contempt. “Don’t you dare lecture me. Don’t… you… dare.”



Zeke raised his eyebrows and leaned on the doorframe. “Are you all right?” he asked.



Casey blinked a few times before hanging his head. “No. So go away. I’ll pack my things soon, let you have your room back.”



“It’s not your fault, what happened. Stephen isn’t going to let you go. All right?” Zeke said. “I sneaked around and listened in on the little ‘meeting’ going on. Stephen’s going to want you to come downstairs so Cal can apologize to you, but don’t tell him I told you that.”



“He…” Casey started. “He doesn’t need to do that--Cal apologizing, meaning. He thought I was being hurt.”



“Oscar was right down the hall, reading a newspaper. Cal should’ve known that if something WAS going wrong, he would’ve done something about it. Do you think you’re the first one around here that’s catered to a rape fantasy?” Zeke explained. “That shit goes on here all the time. Cal knew better, but he got stupid and did something he shouldn’t have.”



“He was just… oh, never mind.” Casey sighed and looked back to Zeke with inquiring eyes. “So I’m not going to get kicked out?”



Zeke smiled warmly. “I once punched a customer back. Stephen didn’t let me have dessert for a week… torture enough. But I’m still here.”



This made Casey smile, just a little. “Okay.”



“So… you’re really all right? I mean…” Zeke stopped to take a deep breath. “Those guys didn’t really hurt you, or anything?”



“No,” Casey said. He felt himself blush as he admitted, “I kinda… liked it.”



“Aha,” Zeke said, then winked. “Weird, ain’t it?”



Casey grinned wider. “I’ll say.”





~*~





“I’m so sorry… that is to say… I…”



Casey felt terribly for the man; he’d only thought he was in trouble, after all. He put a hand on Cal’s arm and gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I know. You don’t need to say anything more.”



“I just--heard you screaming, and I panicked,” Cal said.



“Well, understand that it is my job to cater to such things.”



“Oh, I understand. But I don’t like it… hate it, even,” Cal said. He then sighed and shook his head. “What I hate more, however, is not being able to come here for a whole week. I suppose I should be grateful that I get to come back at all, but… I’m so used to seeing you now. God in heaven, an entire week…”



“I know. But I suppose that by the time next Friday arrives, we’ll be ready for anything,” Casey replied in a coy voice.



“Still…” Cal went to say; he then leaned forward to look down the hall. He eyed Stephen a moment, who was busy talking with Robert and Brandon. Snapping his head back quick, Cal’s smile returned. “You have Sundays as free days, correct?”



“Um… yes.”



Cal bit his mischievous grin. “Come see me. I have an apartment, right on Columbus Avenue. Number nine-sixty-six, apartment nine-C. It overlooks Central Park and everything,” he hastily explained. “It’s a place I’d acquired for weekend ‘business trips’; that’s what I’d told my wife, anyway. I go there each and every Saturday and Sunday. She doesn’t know where it is, no one does. We can do as we please.”



Casey blinked furiously at the man. “I… think that may be against the rules.”



“Yes--so is Stephen’s running this place,” Cal said. “Please tell me you’ll consider it. I’ll be there, waiting for you. If you don’t show, I’ll understand, but it’d break my heart. Please?”



This daring and dangerous idea made something hot and pleasant flutter in Casey’s stomach. “All right. I’ll think about it.”



“Oh, good, good… just remember nine-six-six-nine, then my name, C.” Cal glanced to the side again; he straightened and his face went more businesslike. “So I guess I’ll be seeing you next weekend, perhaps. I may be busy, however.”



Stephen was soon next to them, raised eyebrows and all. “All right, Calvin. You’ve said your goodbyes; it’s time to go.”



“Yes, Stephen. I’ll be sending you a check for the damages, don’t you worry. I’m very, very sorry for my actions,” Cal replied.



“I understand. We’ll see you next weekend,” Stephen said.



“Thank you. Good night, Stephen, Casey,” Cal said, and with a tip of his hat he made his exit. Stephen watched him go, while Casey fought to look as casual and unbothered as possible. Once the front door shut behind Cal, Stephen turned to Casey.



“I’d like to talk to you for a few moments, if I may. No, I’m not angry,” he said quickly when Casey’s expression shifted to one of worry. “Nothing was your fault. But we do need to chat.”



“All ri--” Casey said, but stopped short when there was a sudden pull at his sleeve. He looked to find Noah, his eyes wider than usual and his lips thin. ‘What? What’s going on?’



Noah pointed to Casey, then to Stephen. He began signing in quick jerks, confusing Casey for a moment. But a few words came through; he swallowed hard and turned to the confused-looking man standing beside them. “Noah… he says that Jose’s not in their room, and--and all of his things are gone.”



“Oh… no,” Stephen said with a hearty groan, then shuffled quickly to the stairs.



~*~



Translations:



“¡Por favor, no haga! ¡Es padre Micheal!” ... "Please, do not! It is Father Michael!"



“Engendre a Michael, mi sacerdote… de mi iglesia… oh, mi dios…” ... "Father Michael, my priest, from my church... oh my god..."



“¿Qué él está haciendo aquí?” ... "What is he doing here?"



“¿Cuál es incorrecto?” ... "What is wrong?"



“Mi sacerdote está aquí… no, éste no puede ser…” ... "My priest is here... no, this cannot be..."



“¿Cuál es él?” ... "Which one is he?"



“¡No, no ese Danny híbrido!” ... "No, not that bastard Danny!"



“Debo decir a Stephen sobre esto…” ... "I must tell Stephen about this..."



“¿Cómo podría él… cómo PODRÍA él?” ... "How could he? How COULD he?"





~*~