Date: Fri, 24 Jul 2015 13:33:51 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101 <a4f101@yahoo.com>
Subject: Eli Comes Home

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*****

Eli was different when he came back from Iraq. Physically, he was pretty
much fine, beyond some scarring on his back from that thing he never wanted
to talk about, the explosion that had killed a half-dozen of his tightest
buddies in Anbar. Besides that, he looked amazing, bigger, more powerfully
muscled than when he'd shipped out, up a whole size in his uniform. I felt
guilty for checking him out that way, always had, but especially now that
he was home and had changed inside. I wanted to help him, not perv out over
him, but like any teenager, it was always hard to keep the two in balance.

My parents didn't know what to say to him, beyond the standard platitudes,
which only seemed to make him withdraw even more. I knew he and Christina
had been having trouble last time he was home, and when he broke up with
her in a furious, screaming rage, it wasn't exactly a shock to any of us. I
went and found him that night, after she'd peeled out of our driveway,
found the big Marine hunched on the ground, looking up at the moon, tears
streaking down his unshaven face as he wrapped his thick arms around his
knees and shook. He startled when my hand touched the big, steely mound of
his shoulder, then eased slightly as I slid my arm around his bull neck,
squeezing lightly. He didn't need any more words, just needed somebody
there for him in his corner. We'd always had each other's backs growing up,
and I wanted to show him that I'd learned from him. Was becoming a man like
him. Would always be here for him.

We started spending a lot of time together after that, and in doing things
together, reestablishing the easy, comfortable brother bond, he started to
open up to me gradually. Shooting hoops down at the park until dark,
running together in the early morning, washing and waxing his sweet
GTO. That one in particular stood out to me, for the way his bod had bulked
up so much since last time, the newer tattoos highlighting his power, his
presence, shiny with sweat and overspray from the hose. One day, he caught
me checking him out, and he just stared at me with an unreadable
expression. I was scared, scared I'd fucked it up, scared of what this big,
powerful, slightly unpredictable Marine could or would do to me for my
weakness. But he didn't say a word, just finished the car, and before
dinner hit the table that night, he'd gone for a long drive. I hoped like
hell he'd come back, if only so I could apologize, make it the way it had
been again.

I woke up around midnight, and almost jumped out of my skin when I saw him
sitting on the side of my bed, looking down at me, watching me sleep. His
expression was unreadable still, but as I sat up, the sheet slipping down
my bare teenage torso, the moonlight showing how much I'd grown since last
time he'd seen me, how much of a man I was becoming, I saw him giving me a
slow once-over. Then he looked at me, and finally spoke.

"Let's talk, Jake," he whispered, then motioned me to follow him through
the bathroom connecting our rooms, into his.

The room hadn't changed a bit since he'd left for basic at 18. Still the
same bikini babe posters on the wall, pictures of muscle cars, his football
and wrestling trophies, all the artifacts of a young man he no longer was,
one he'd left behind in a burning MRAP in the sandy wastelands of the
Middle East. Even he looked around at it all like he didn't recognize it,
but when he turned back to me, a slow smile spread over his handsome,
tanned face, and my heart leapt. He opened those big, steely arms, corded
with muscle and crawling with ink, and after some hesitation, I stepped
in. And felt the instant warmth of our brother bond, the way we'd been
before the war, tight and close and loving.

When it happened, the kiss was a surprise, but completely natural. I just
went with it, as his big hands began to roam over my bare torso, exploring
the fast-growing young muscle I'd packed on, the smooth, unmarked skin
stretched over my frame. I'd started using his old weights in the garage
with him before he left, and kept it up while he was gone, and he was
impressed with the results, telling me so, his voice low and deep in my
ear, big hands squeezing, exploring, loving my young body. We kissed again,
and again, and I was so fucking hard for him.

He was hard for me too, and when he sat me down on his bed and stripped for
me, slow and easy, his eyes intent on mine, that big, thick cock of his
showed me I wasn't alone in my secret desire for my own brother. My boxer
briefs came off easily in his hands, and as he pressed me back into his big
bed and our bodies came together, fitting perfectly, our mouths found each
other again. I let my big brother come to me, come for me, become himself
in my arms, as we sweated, quietly moaned, thrust together, made love. He
breached my tight teenage hole with surprising tenderness, breaking me in
first with his thick, warm tongue, then his big bare Marine cock, with a
gentleness at complete odds with his jacked body and badass tattoos, the
rough texture of the scarred skin stretched across the thick muscles of his
back. He rode me slow and deep, long and thick, making me come twice before
he unleashed his own brother load deep inside me.

It was getting towards dawn as we lay together, bodies intertwined, sweat
cooling as we traded kisses back and forth, touched each other, and finally
talked. Really talked. About Anbar, about the best friend he'd loved like
this, and watched die. The buddy who reminded him of me.

"You're home, Eli," I whispered against his lips as I kissed him. "Home
with me, bro. Be with me, now."

He smiled at me now, as I kissed away the tears he'd spilled talking about
Hank, and squeezed me tight to his big muscled chest. That was when Eli
started to get better again.