A TRIAL OF STRENGTH – PART 503 By Rob Williams
Chapter 503 – "THE TRIUMPHANT TRIO"
IN THIS CHAPTER:
It's a three-way love affair – the gypsy boss Randy, the chiseled superman Bob, and the blond Greek-god cop Mark. The trio goes out to the desert to help their buddy Uncle Mike and his boy Larry. On the way they stop for a tailgate party where one gets fucked on the truck by the other two. Later Randy rescues Larry by taking on two thugs in a brutal two-on-one fight that tests all the big gypsy's fighting skills and ___________________________________________________________________
IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER
The two sagas that had been riveting the tribe for some time were now winding together toward a happy resolution.
The new lovers – Doctor Chad and the hunky Aussie Adam – were at last happily living together and ready to explore how far to push the boundaries of their pledge of monogamy.
The rugged construction worker Seth, with the help of his son Will, was slowly overcoming his feeling of inferiority – a swarthy laborer from the wrong side of the tracks – compared with the cultured professionals Chad and Adam.
All came together at a dinner party held at Seth's new house, catered by chef Will and his young buddy Ryan. Seth was nervous about keeping up a conversation with the educated lovers but as the wine flowed Chad and Adam made Seth realize that his paranoia was unfounded and he was every bit as fine a man as the rest of the tribe.
The atmosphere became so loose that the climax was almost inevitable (especially in this tribe) – a wild five-way fuck fest with Seth butt-fucking one of the lovers and getting his ass ploughed by the other, with the boys Will and Ryan joining in. After the explosive chain orgasm, one eruption after another, laughter filled the air and the party finally wound down.
After Ryan left to go back to his master and hero Darius, Chad and Adam took their leave with profuse thanks for a memorable party. "It's me who should thank you guys," Seth smiled. "You did more for me tonight than you know."
"Good," said Chad. "So you can leave all that bullshit paranoia behind you at last. Adam and I learned a few things too. You helped us find our version of monogamy, at least how we define it. Definitely something for us to build on. And Will, that meal was delicious."
With a final round of hugs the lovers left, and a few minutes later Seth and Will were lying in bed re-hashing the party and sharing the latest tribe gossip – looking forward to the next saga in the tribe – one, they hoped, that didn't star them.
"Sir, did you hear about Uncle Mike and Larry?" Will asked wide-eyed.
"Yeah, a bit. Randy was saying the boy has gone off the rails again. Poor Mike is really cut up about it. So Bob, Randy and Mark are gonna take a run out to Palm Springs to see if they can help. Those three are quite the trio. Bob could charm the birds out of the trees ... Mark's the voice of the law ... and Randy's, well, Randy. If anyone can lick a boy into shape he can."
"And did you know, sir, they're all three in love with each other?"
"Common knowledge, kiddo. But when it comes to three-ways, I think we put on a pretty good show ourselves tonight, didn't we? And you and me, kid, we're a great team – best father and son act in the tribe."
Will smiled and closed his eyes. And a minute later he was fast asleep in his dad's arms.
========= CHAPTER 503 =========
<><> THE TORTURED TRIO <><>
Seth and Will were not the only ones wondering about the problems between Uncle Mike and his boy Larry, and speculating how the story would play out with the intervention of Bob, Randy and Mark. That widespread speculation was complicated by the gossip about the trio itself of macho alpha males, which had a history all its own.
Bob and Randy had been lovers for some time when Bob first met the cop Mark. He had been driving his Mercedes home through a remote part of Griffith Park, the worse for wear after a three-martini business lunch. He got lost, made an illegal U-turn and was pulled over by the motorcycle cop. Bob stared up at the stunning muscular blond officer and, desperate to avoid a drunk-driving ticket, tried to talk his way out of it.
Looking into the deep brown eyes of the handsome, squared-jawed young business executive Mark told Bob to follow him to a hidden clearing in the trees where he gave Bob a one-word order – "Strip". Bob obeyed and slowly took off his suit, his shirt and tie. Mark, mesmerized by the sight of the young muscle-god buck naked, had busted a load in his uniform pants, then quickly left in embarrassment – without giving Bob a citation.
But in his haste to leave Mark had neglected to return Bob's driver's license to him, so a day later he came to the address on the license and met Bob in the home he shared with Randy. Mark was hesitant but, although neither man knew it at the time, that was probably the moment they fell in love.
Bob had already told Randy the story and when Randy showed up a confrontation was inevitable between the rugged construction worker and the handsome cop who had humiliated his lover. Randy was fiercely protective of Bob and insecure about the passion he felt for him, always fearful that he would lose Bob – especially to a man like this blond cop. The fight was instant and savage, with both men slugging their way to a draw.
Mark would eventually become a member of the tribe and, as it grew in number, they were dubbed the tortured trio for the tangle of emotions that bound them. Until the day when Randy finally gave in to his passions and he and Mark admitted they too loved each other – a trio of macho alpha males henceforth dubbed `the triumphant trio'. And now the Three Musketeers decided to go out to Palms Springs and try to help Mike with his wayward, troubled boy.
<><> THE TROUBLED HISTORY OF LARRY <><>
The three men regularly took trips together, no boys, no business, just the three of them to reinforce their strong triple friendship – and, of course, to fuck. The idea for this latest trip had come up at a recent big gathering of the whole tribe where they had, inevitably, discussed some of the ripples that seemed to be bubbling up from the otherwise placid waters of this community of men and boys.
Mark had said, "The most worrying thing is that there seems to be some kind of trouble building between Uncle Mike and his boy Larry. Can't quite get a handle on it, but Mike looks kinda down and Larry looks morose. So I was thinking that the three of us might take a trip out to Palm Springs and visit them, see if we can help."
They all three knew the rocky history of the May/September relationship between the older but still in-shape and handsome Mike, pushing sixty, and the good-looking Larry, a young man with a troubled past.
The men had first met Mike on one of their motorcycle trips to Palm Springs where he owned and managed one of the most popular leather/Levi bars. He had been dubbed `Uncle' partly because the group regarded him as a favorite uncle, and partly because he was the real uncle of Brian, a young kid in a wheelchair who had lived a sad, solitary existence in a desert trailer park and had been rescued by the tribe.
Mike had taken a liking to the men, especially Randy whom he recognized as the tribe's rough brawling boss who occasionally needed to be disciplined. After an early episode where the volatile Randy had lost his cool, Mike had given him a tongue lashing that began, "Now listen to me, boy ..." Thereafter Mike had been the only man to call Randy `boy' and the only man, except Bob, who could face him down.
Randy looked up to Mike almost as a substitute for a father he had never known, being raised by a single mother in Texas. And at the slightest hint of pain or sadness in Mike Randy leapt to help him, like a dutiful grown-up son. Which is why he leapt at Mark's idea of paying him a visit.
Mark said, "Mike's being cagey about what's actually happening with Larry. You know Mike, he wants to try and work it out for himself – he finds it demeaning to ask for help."
"Yeah," Bob said. "Mike is crazy in love with Larry but it scares him a bit. He still finds it hard to believe that a good-looking young jock like Larry would fall in love with a guy his age. But some boys are like that – attracted to men old enough to be their father."
Randy frowned, "But that kid's a handful. Had a real bad home life, a dad who abused him and his mother. Hell, remember when he first pitched at our place with Jamie, a couple of skinheads living rough who attacked Pablo?" He grinned proudly. "But my boy could handle both of them. And anyway, you showed up just in time, officer."
"I would have thrown the book at them." Mark said, "but you pleaded for them Bob, typical you, and asked me to release them into Randy's custody. Well, eventually Jamie became my boy and cleaned up his act, while Larry went back home to St. Louis."
"Until years later when his mom died and Larry left his abusive dad for good," Bob said, picking up the story. "Only person he could go to for help was Jamie. Turned out to be a good call, `cos soon after that Mike came to visit, he met Larry and the rest is history. The boy's been wonderful with Mike, who set him up in his own motorbike repair shop. I'm surprised if he's gone off the rails again."
"But it's not the first time," Randy grunted. "He's got a bad seed that boy – a case of `you can take the boy off the streets but you can't take the streets out of the boy'. He's messed up before – drugs the last time as I recall – and caused Mike a ton of grief." Randy stiffened and clenched his fists. "I swear to god, if he's hurt Mike again I'll damn-well teach the kid a lesson he won't forget in a long time."
"Cool it Randy," Bob said, "don't jump to conclusions. We don't know the facts yet as Mike didn't want to unload his troubles on us. Maybe we're all jumping the gun and it's just a temporary problem that Mike's got under control. That's why I think a casual visit from us is the way to play it. Just a social call. We stand ready to help but my guess is Mike will have it all sorted.
"Always the optimist," Mark smiled, wrapping his arm round Bob. "Let's hope you're right."
Unfortunately Bob wasn't – far from it.
<><> "GIVE LARRY OUR LOVE" <><>
The day before the men left for Palm Springs they made sure that the absence of three senior men would not impact the running of the house or construction company. Bob checked in with the twins and Will who assured him, as chefs, that they could cope with feeding the tribe. Young Eddie, the house manager said confidently that he could keep everything in shape.
They all expressed concern about Larry. The boys always enjoyed his company when he and Mike visited, and it was a tradition that when one of the boys was in trouble the others circled the wagons around him no matter what.
Eddie said to Bob, "I like Larry a whole lot, sir. Sure he's got his wild side and you often wonder when he's gonna go off the rails, but he's a real good guy at heart and he's crazy about Uncle Mike. But if anyone can straighten him out you three guys can."
Mark had an even more intense conversation with his boy Jamie who had once been Larry's pal in the bad old days. Mark asked, "Did you talk to Larry much when they were here, Jamie? I know he confides in you – thinks of you as his best friend."
"No I didn't, sir. I tried but he seemed different somehow – kinda distant and ... on edge. I hate to say it but I think he was on something – some kind of speed that made him edgy. Please try to help him, sir. He's had such a tough life and Uncle Mike is the best thing that ever happened to him. At first I suspected he had latched on to Mike for the money, but the more I saw them together the more I knew Larry was in love with him. And when you see him, give him my love."
Mark hugged Jamie. "I will, buddy, and I'll make sure no one hurts him. Even Randy, with his best intentions, can fly into one of his rages if he sees Mike in pain, but Bob and I can usually keep the big gypsy in check."
At that moment Randy was having a short meeting with Zack, Darius and Pablo about the construction company. Zack would be in overall charge in Randy's absence. Zack's boy Darius was the foreman and Randy's assistant, and Randy's boy Pablo was the chief mechanic, in charge of all the heavy machinery. Zack said, "Good luck out there, dude. I know you can help, just don't fuck it up by losing your cool and lashing out with your fists."
"Who me?" Randy grinned. "When did you ever see me lose my cool?"
"Just about every other day," Zack chuckled. "As I recall when you decked one of the rebellious crew and we had to pull you off him, the insurance company had a fit and you had to get anger management from Doc Steve, and get an assistant – my boy Darius here."
"Fuck," Randy said scornfully, "what do those prissy mother-fuckers know about running a construction company? Trouble is we gotta have company insurance so they got us over a barrel. I'd like to get those assholes over a barrel – they wouldn't walk straight for weeks."
Zack laughed. "You just proved my point, Randy ... I rest my case." He pulled Randy into a tight man-hug. "You three just take care of yourselves – and have fun. You usually do."
<><> THREE RIVAL STAGGS <><>
The next morning a small crowd had gathered to see the three men off. Predictably Eddie's voice could be heard above the din. "Sir, say hi to Larry from all us boys and tell him we've got his back. He's really one of the good guys and as I always say about good guys ..."
Bob put his hand gently over Eddie's mouth. "Eddie, fascinating as your thoughts always are we do need to hit the road. We can't do Mike and Larry much good by standing here listening to your riveting suggestions. Beside, you have a house to run in our absence."
Eddie grinned. "I think you're teasing me, sir, but I don't mind `cos I love you. OK guys, you heard what the boss said. Go tidy your rooms, I've only got one pair of hands ..." He skipped off like the Pied Piper, and remarkably the other boys dutifully followed behind.
As they drove off Randy laughed. "Damn, that kid's a riot. Can't imagine the tribe without him."
"Without any of the boys," Mark said. "Gotta hand it to you two, you brought together a real special group of guys."
They were in Randy's truck as it was the largest. He drove and Bob sat between him and Mark on the front bench seat. They drove in companionable silence at first, each one mulling various thoughts about what they had left behind and what they might encounter at Mike's place.
Randy broke the silence by asking, "How did Mike react, Bob, when you asked if we could come and stay at his place?
"Strange, really. He seemed taken aback at first, hesitant. I thought for a minute he was gonna say no. But then his voice changed and I thought I heard a hint of relief. `Course you guys can come' he said. 'I'd love to have your company.' There's obviously something going on, something troubling him. But we gotta give him and Larry space to sort it out for themselves."
"Nah," Randy scoffed. "If the boy's in some kind of trouble I can sort it out. I raised Pablo didn't I, and he's a tough kid."
Mark disagreed. "Randy, if the boy has got into any illegal stuff it needs a lawman like myself. You've got the fists, sure, but I represent the law."
In that little exchange Bob saw a glimpse of the latent rivalry that was woven into the fabric of their relationship. It was inevitable with three alpha males that they would always be somewhat competitive with each other. It was the nature of the beast, rather like three proud stags at the head of the herd.
And it was wasn't only Randy versus Mark. Bob himself had often exerted his supremacy when it came to his expertise of finance. Many times he had firmly nixed an idea mooted by the others as fiscally unwise, and the others retreated in the face of his superior knowledge.
That was one of the things that bound them so closely together, being equals in authority. But three was always an edgy number. Inevitably, even in sex, it played out as two against one. The question was, which two and which one? That formula changed all the time, depending on the circumstances
But it did not overshadow the affection they felt for each other, nor their mutual love and lust. So as they drove east to the desert that friendly rivalry became almost a game as they one-upped each other with stories of how they handled their boys. Mark was on especially firm ground there as he had transformed his boy Jamie from his wild street-punk days to a respected young jock whom Mark treated as an equal.
In fact, Bob gave him an opening when he asked, "Aren't we coming up to that spot where, when you drive out here with Jamie, you turn off the highway, go deep into the sage-scrub and fuck Jamie on the tailboard of your truck?"
"Damn straight," Mark smiled with a hint of boastfulness. "The boy loves it – he's come to expect it. When I suddenly take the turn-off a smile spreads over his face and I know his cock's getting hard in his shorts. I always wear this black tank top I got on now, Jamie's favorite, and when he's sitting naked on the tailgate looking up at me he can't resist – he knows who's boss."
"But don't you ever switch roles?"
"Once we did. Just wanted to give Jamie the experience that I felt every time I fucked him. But like I said, he knows who's boss. Dammit, man, I'm a cop. Guys take orders from me, not the other way round.
Randy glanced secretly at Bob and pressed his knee against his. And suddenly the truck veered off a highway off-ramp and charged through the brush.
<><> THREE ALPHA-MEN & A TRUCK <><>
"Hey what's up?" Mark said. "Where you going, dude?" Randy just grinned as the truck bounced over the rough trail toward a stand of trees Mark knew well. "Oh I get it," Mark smiled. "My story of how I fucked Jamie got you horny, eh? You want a taste of the same treatment I give my boy. OK, dude, brace yourself."
Randy pressed his knee harder against Bob. Over the years the two lovers had developed a wordless way of communicating and Bob now knew exactly what Randy had in mind.
Randy drove into the middle of the clump of trees so the truck was hidden from sight in this deserted landscape of sand and scrub. The three men climbed out of the truck and went round to the back where Mark, through force of habit, unlatched the tailboard and lowered it to a horizontal position.
With his back to the others he was taken by surprise. Randy spun him round and pushed him backwards so he sat on the tailboard and Randy shoved him on his back on the flatbed. Before he could retaliate he felt Bob grab one of his wrists and tie it to a hook in the back corner of the flatbed with one of the ropes lying in the truck.
Reflexively Mark reached up with his free hand to untie the rope but Randy grabbed his wrist, forced his arm up to the other corner and expertly tied it to another hook. "Fuck you, guys, this ain't the way it works."
"It is this time," Randy grinned. "You're always the strong arm of the law, it's about time you got a taste of your own medicine, officer."
Randy and Bob stood side by side behind the tailgate and looked down at the pornographic sight of the handsome blond cop, arms stretched up in a V, his muscles straining under the ribbed black tank stretched over his chest. "Fuck you, guys," he yelled, yanking hard at the ropes binding him, which displayed his ripped struggling body even more graphically.
All three men were wearing cargo shorts and Bob and Randy now slowly pulled off their T-shirts. Holy shit," Mark groaned, staring up at the shirtless muscle-gods – the tall, swarthy gypsy and his handsome, chiseled lover."
"What d'ya think, Bob?" Randy grinned maliciously. "Toss for it?" Bob pulled a coin from his pocket, flipped it high and slapped it down on the back of his hand. "Heads." Randy said.
"Heads it is. OK, stud, you're up."
Randy reached forward, ripped open Mark's shorts and pulled them off over his sneakers. He stared down at Mark, now wearing only his black tank and his sneakers, his ass hanging over the edge of the tailboard. "Damn, you are one sexy son-of-a-bitch, cop. You wanna know how Jamie feels? Brace yourself."
Randy pulled out his cock, spat on it and stroked it. Then he pushed Mark's legs back and planted the tip of his monster shaft against his hole. "I know you can take it rough, man," Randy grinned, and drove his cock in hard and deep. Mark's head flew back and his howls shattered the silence, to be carried away on the desert breeze, unheard by anyone but the three men.
It was one of Randy's trademark ferocious fucks but when the initial pain wore off Mark stared up into the hypnotic pale blue eyes set in the swarthy, stubbled face and knew why he had first fallen in love with the man. Still he struggled against the ropes binding his wrists, but it was now because we wanted desperately to touch the slabs of Randy's chest and then his own cock.
But Randy knew how to play a man and drive him wild with frustration as he varied the angle and speed of his thrust, repeatedly bringing Mark to the edge of orgasm and then backing off. "Damn that's hot," Randy growled, "a macho cop tied to a truck and getting his ass reamed by a tough gypsy construction boss. Let me see you struggle, officer, let me hear you scream."
Again Randy increased the speed and power of the attack on the cop as he ramrodded his ass and his cock pistoned ever deeper inside him. The captive cop yelled and his body writhed under the onslaught of the merciless gypsy. He tugged helplessly at the ropes binding him, his muscles flexed and his pecs bulged under the black sweat-soaked tank that clung to his chest.
"You know you're finished, cop," Randy growled. "Even you can't take much more of my rod pile-driving your ass. I wanna hear you beg, stud. Turns me on when I hear a tough muscle-hunk police officer beg for mercy."
Randy always knew when a man had reached his pain threshold, and the time had come. "OK, man, you win. I'm done, I can't take anymore. Please ... you want me to beg? OK, I'm begging."
"So who's the boss, officer?"
"You are ... you win ... I submit ... fuck me ... cum inside my ass. Please, I beg you ... aaagh!"
With one last mighty thrust Rand drove in deep and his cock erupted in the cop's ass, filling it with jizz as the near-naked cop screamed and jerked in humiliating defeat.
<><> Bob's Turn <><>
Dazed, Mark stared up at Randy who grinned, "Fucking sensational, man. You OK?"
"I ... I think so. Damn, you're incredible. But I didn't cum."
"Nah ... I left that for my buddy here. OK, Bob, you're on."
Randy stepped back and Bob took his place. Mark now looked up not into the blazing eyes of the dark gypsy but into the soft brown eyes of the other man he loved. The man he had met years ago, the man he had fallen in love with in a remote clearing in the park.
"You're gonna fuck me?" he said – more of a plea than a question.
"You bet I am," Bob smiled. "You've been all lubed up by Randy's cum – you're just waiting for my dick in your ass, eh Mark?"
"You bet I am, buddy."
Bob pulled out his cock, stepped forward and raised Mark's legs. Their eyes met, the eyes of men in love, and Bob easily slid his dick in the cop's cum-slick ass. "Oh fuck..." Mark sighed. "Jesus that feels good."
Having experienced the savage gypsy lust of Randy Mark was now treated to Bob's tender caress of his ass, his cock easing in and out of him as they made love with their eyes. He didn't pull desperately at the ropes binding him. He loved the sensation of being Bob's prisoner, of being at the tender mercy of the shirtless man with his square-cut superman features and flawless physique.
Bob licked his thumbs and forefingers, leaned forward and twisted the cop's nipples through the wet tank, making him moan in ecstasy, his handsome face rolling from side to side. His love for Bob welled up in him and he groaned, "Fuck me, man. Your cock belongs in my ass." Bob braced his palms on the flatbed of the truck, leaned forward and licked Mark's lips, then kissed him gently as his cock massaged his ass, still full of Randy's semen.
In former years Randy would have been angered by this erotic display of love between Bob and Mark, but Randy was now so reconciled to their three-way affections that he enjoyed the sight of his lover fucking the bound cop. In Randy's mind he had captured the police officer, made him a prisoner, cum in his ass and then presented him as a gift for Bob to fuck.
To intensify their lust Randy quietly untied Mark's wrists. When Bob pulled back from their passionate kiss Mark reached up and caressed Bob's face with both hands. Then he planted his palms on Bob's chest and dug his fingers into his solid pecs. Bob inhaled sharply. "Fuck, you're bringing me close, buddy. I want so bad to spill my juice in your ass."
"Me too, dude. Let's do it." With one hand he twisted Bob's nipple hard, while his other hand stroked his own cock. They heard Randy's voice above them. "Damn, you two look so fucking hot. You know you wanna cum real bad. So do it, guys. I wanna watch you spill your loads. Do it. That's an order."
Whether it was the gypsy's command or the intensity of the love and lust they felt – or a combination of both – their bodies shuddered, their muscles tensed and ... "aaagh!" Their eyes locked as jizz spurted from Mark's cock and spattered his black tank with white juice. His body bucked as he felt Bob's cock flood his ass with semen that mixed with the jizz of the man who had cum in him first, the man they both loved.
It had been a stunning display of the wild passions and lust they shared – proof, if any were needed, that they lived up to their title – the triumphant trio.
Bob stooped to kiss Mark one more time, then he felt Randy behind him pulling him gently off Mark and folding his arms round him. Mark eased himself unsteadily off the truck and said. "Men, you sure know how to deal with a cop who's tied down at your mercy. By rights I should arrest you for abuse of a police officer, but I'll leave that till later."
"Yeah, Randy said. "Now we've sorted all that out, it's time to hit the road and get down to business. Taking care of our old buddy Uncle Mike."
<><> MIKE UNLOADS THE STORY OF LARRY <><>
The atmosphere in the truck as they continued east was more relaxed than before, almost festive. The macho one-upmanship that had defined their conversation before was gone. They had got all that out of their system and defined their roles in no uncertain terms.
In another hour they pulled off Highway 111 and soon came to Mike's sprawling Spanish-style adobe home, bought and enlarged with the profits from the lucrative leather/Levi bar he had owned for years. He ran it now with the help of his boy Larry who, working shirtless behind the bar, was a big hit with customers, many of whom had their bikes serviced by Larry in the thriving motorcycle repair shop Mike had helped him finance.
It was an idyllic setup for the two men – or at least it had been. In the past when men from the tribe pulled up at the gates they were usually met by the welcoming smiles of Mike and Larry. But this time only Mike was there to greet them as they piled out of the truck, and the smile on his face lacked its usual exuberance.
Randy strode up and pulled Mike into a muscular hug. "Hey, you old rascal, how's it hangin'?"
"Just fine, Randy," Mike said in a tone that indicated quite the reverse. After hugs from Bob and Mark he led them through the gate and Randy looked at the other two with a helpless shrug. They went straight to a table under mature shade-trees and Mike brought out beers.
"This'll help wash off the dust of the highway," he said. "By the looks of you three you made a stop halfway and drove into the brush for one of those tailgate sex sessions you're famous for."
"Right in one, Mike," Bob grinned. "I'll leave it to your imagination to guess which one got the other two dicks up his ass."
A remark like that would normally have brought a gust of laughter from Mike, but this time produced just a wan smile. A sense of foreboding hung in the air as they downed their beers in silence, reluctant to bring up the subject on all their minds. It naturally fell to Randy to break the silence and charge in impulsively with no regard for tact. "So where's Larry, dude?"
"Gone," was the terse reply as Mike took a long swig of beer. Bob saw Randy clench his fists so he hastily intervened. "Gone?" Bob asked gently. "Where too, Mike?"
"Damned if I know, or care. And I don't want you guys to be concerned. You're here to relax."
Mark touched Mike's hand on the table. "Mike, one of the main reasons we came out here was to see if we could help. At the party back home you and Larry seemed to be having problems."
"That obvious, eh?" Mike said with a weak, watery grin.
"Mike," Bob said in a deep, soft voice, "we love you, you're one of our best buddies. You've helped us out through bad times often enough. Won't you trust us to share yours?"
Mike looked from one to the other and tears welled in his eyes. "Dammit I told myself I wasn't gonna do that," he sniffed, dabbing at his eye. He took another drink. "OK, guys, here it is. Of course you saw at the party how we were barely talking. Matter of fact he almost didn't come with me until I told him his pal Jamie would be disappointed.
"Things have been going sour for some time. You remember how once before he fell for some hot young guy he met in the bar, then came back to me all apologetic? I told him then that I understood if he sometimes wanted to fool around with a younger guy, just as long as he still loved me and we maintained our life together."
"So is that what's happened this time?" Mark asked.
"Nah, much worse. Far as I can tell he's hooked up with some guys who've been in the bar a few times and they're usually high as a kite. Word is they have some ramshackle place way out in the desert where they make crystal meth. As a cop. Mark, you know there are lots of places like that deep in the desert around here – couple of trailers where they live and cook the stuff.
"We tend to steer clear of all that. It's real bad news, no one wants to get involved. But now it seems Larry is involved. The boy's kinda susceptible to types like that – goes back to his wild youth when he was a skinhead living rough. He changed when he met me and fell in love and since then things have been real good. But I've noticed a change in his behavior lately – kinda edgy, like he's not really there."
"Yeah," Mark agreed. "Jamie said the same thing when he talked to him at the party. He thought Larry was on some kind of speed."
"I'm sure he was. Like I said, I practically had to drag hm to your party, and the ride back out here was a nightmare – him in stony silence, like he was dying to be someplace else. Well, the place he wanted to be was with those guys. As soon as we got home he hightailed it out of here real fast and I suppose he's living with them. They got some kinda hold over him ... they got him hooked on the stuff and ..."
Tears rolled from his eyes and he muttered "Dammit", wiping his face with embarrassment.
"Bob persisted gently. "Have you any idea where this place is, Mike?"
"Yeah. When I told you I didn't know, it wasn't true. From what I found out from guys in the bar it's actually not far beyond Hassan's old house out there in the desert. I'm still hoping Larry is staying in the house `cos we got the key of course, but it's more likely he's living with them guys.
"I don't wanna go chasing after him `cos that would make things worse – a red rag to a bull. I know how stubborn he can be. But those places, you know, Mark, you hear of them blowing to bits. Plus it's totally illegal of course and if the cops ever find Larry there he'll ..."
"Don't worry, Mike, I'll look into it," Mark said. "The cops here are old buddies of mine, I did a tour of duty out here with them. I'll have to alert them but whatever happens I think I can promise to pull Larry out of there before the shit really hits the fan and make sure he's not in any legal trouble."
"All this time Randy had sat in a seething silence. Now he got up and said gruffly, "I gotta take a leak. Back in a minute."
<><> THE FIGHT <><>
Randy was nothing if not single-minded. He didn't see nuances, repercussions or what-ifs. While others might debate the best ways to tackle a problem he knew instantly the only way to do it – his way.
"He had listened to Mike's story with mounting rage. He had seen the pain and tears of the man he loved and respected, almost a father figure. And his job as the dutiful son was to take away the pain, to protect the older man just as he had always protected the boys.
With the image of Mike's tearful face before him he had gone straight out to his truck. He didn't stop to take a leak – a bladderful of piss might come in handy later. At his truck he quickly changed into jeans and boots – better for this job than shorts and sneakers – and he hit the road, driving away slowly so as not to alert the others. This was his fight and he worked alone.
He quickly made for the two-lane road that headed out to the emptiness of the desert, a road he had taken many times to reach his buddy Hassan's little old house that he used as a hideaway in the remote desert – no neighbors, no intruders.
Stupid fucking kid,' Randy thought as he drove, messing with that shit when he's got a terrific guy to give him a great life'. But then he thought of his own reckless youth and the troubled past of boys the tribe had rescued and embraced. He knew he had to protect Larry as well as Mike, however much he had fucked things up.
He drove daredevil fast, covering the half-hour trip in twenty minutes. When he saw the house glimmering like a mirage in the distant dunes he pulled off the deserted road and bumped along to the house that stood baking stoically under the blazing sun, its walls peeling, the once-red door faded to an indeterminate pink.
He already suspected he wouldn't find what he was looking for – Larry. There was no vehicle parked anywhere close, but he yelled Larry's name and tried the door anyway, in case the boy was fast asleep, crashing after a multi-day run on meth.
But the place was clearly empty so he jumped back in the truck, wheeled round, kicking up a spray of sand, and sped back to the road where he headed deeper into the desert. He slowed down so he could peer into the distance on either side. It was nothing but a limitless expanse of sand, but a building or vehicle could be partly hidden behind dunes.
And then he saw it. In the distant on the right he saw what looked like an old trailer, and the closer he got he saw another one behind it. And there was a thin trail of smoke rising from one of them.
He pulled off the road onto the almost invisible track that led to the encampment and drove slowly, hoping not to be seen. He parked a distance from the trailers. When he got close he saw a clutter of old oil drums, wrecked furniture and paraphernalia – and a hunched figure sitting on an oil drum with his back to him. When he got close he hissed softly, "Larry."
The boy shot to his feet whirled round and shouted, "What the fuck you doing here."
So much for the element of surprise, Randy thought, as the door of the trailer crashed open and a big muscled brute, leapt down on the sand. Randy sized him up quickly, a mountain of a man, bare-chested, hairy and bearded, in black jeans and heavy boots. Randy saw instantly from his body language that he was high on meth, which he knew gave a man unnatural strength and aggression.
Larry said, "Bert, it's OK, he's ..."
"Shut up, kid. OK, asshole, what you doing here? This is private property, you're trespassing."
Randy's eyes blazed. "This kid is my boy and I've come to take him away."
"Oh is that so?" Bert sneered. "Well, stud, you'll have to get to him through me." The thug launched himself at Randy and took a swing at him, but Randy blocked the punch with one arm and slammed the other hard in his stomach. The man doubled over, howling in pain and Randy raised both arms ready to slam them down on his back. But the man's bulk belied his speed and, still doubled over, he charged headfirst into Randy, knocking him backward so they both crashed down on the sand.
They rolled over in the dirt, trading punches until the thug kneed Randy in the balls, winding him long enough for the man to straddle him and kneel on his arms, pinning him down, and thrash his face from one side to the other. Randy grimaced in pain, his shaggy black hair flying across his face, but he had been in worse scrapes and he reflexively raised his leg and kneed Bert hard in the back several times until he slumped forward on top of Randy.
Randy quickly slid out from under him, leapt to his feet and yanked Bert up by the hair. "Payback, asshole," he panted and slugged his fist against one cheek, then the back of his hand against the other driving him back until he slumped against the wall of the trailer, groaning in agony until he slid down on his knees.
Randy was about to finish him off when he suddenly felt a heavy iron crowbar press against his throat. Someone behind him was holding both ends and pulling the bar back against his neck. Frantically Randy reached up, grabbed the bar and pulled it forward a bit to relieve the pressure.
A dazed Bert looked up from the ground. "Just in time Nick. Don't choke him though. He's mine." Bert staggered to his feet and panted, "Big mistake to mess with me and my brother, asshole. This is what you get." He drove his fist into his stomach again and again, gut-punching him brutally, knocking the wind out of him as he doubled over in pain and absorbed the blows.
Randy knew this would finish him off so he used the only move left. He gripped the crowbar harder, backed into Nick, jerked forward and, summoning his last reserves of strength, hauled the man off his feet and over his head so he went sailing through the air, dropped the crowbar and smashed into his brother Bert. They crashed to the ground and Randy sprang into action, ignoring his pain.
Nick was lying stunned so Randy launched himself on Bert and again they rolled over and over in the dirt. This time Randy got the upper hand, hauled Bert to his feet and paid him back with a vicious assault of gut punches. Bert was weakening when suddenly Randy was pulled round by the revived Nick and the brothers proceeded to double team him passing him back and forth, slugging him in turn.
The battered gypsy, his shirt torn to shreds, staggered back from one to the other, spinning round helplessly between them as first one fist struck, then another. His mind grew dark but he refused to go down and his animal fighting instincts took over. As he reeled toward Bert he raised his leg in a karate kick and crashed his boot into the man's balls. With an agonized scream Bert crashed to the ground, but behind Randy Nick was about to deliver the final blow with the raised crowbar.
"No!" Behind him Larry raised an empty oilcan and crashed it into Nick's back. Nick staggered forward but, stayed upright. He turned and swung the crowbar at Larry hitting him behind his legs and sending him howling to the ground.
And that's when Randy lost it, seeing the boy attacked – Mike's boy he had sworn to protect. Howling "Mother-Fuckers!" he lunged for Nick, wrenched the crowbar from his hand and flailed him with it, across the back, the butt and into his stomach repeatedly. He tossed the crowbar down in contempt and as Nick staggered forward Randy caught him and lifted him bodily high in the air. He spun him round then tossed him down on his brother who was trying to get up.
They were finished, moaning semi-conscious in a mangled heap. Randy stumbled to Larry who was rubbing the back of his legs. "You OK, boy, can you stand up?"
"Yeah, it just hurts like crazy is all. Sir, I ..."
"Save it, kid. You got any rope or anything?"
"Lots of electrical cord."
"Great, that'll do fine."
Minutes later the brothers were lying moaning on the ground back to back, their wrists bound painfully behind them with the cord, both men tied together. Randy sneered down at them.
"You shit-for-brains mother-fuckers, you hurt my boy. Only one way to treat scum like you. He pulled his cock out of his pants, pointed it down at the groaning pair ... and the piss that had been building in his bladder finally found release, a steady warm stream that splashed down onto the faces and the bodies of the broken, degraded brothers who struggled and pleaded, "No more. Please, sir, no more."
Then suddenly, "Freeze!"
It was Mark in full police uniform with Bob beside him.
<><> MARK TAKES CHARGE <><>
"I said freeze!"
Randy looked up and managed a grin. "Hard to stop when you're emptying a full bladder on douchebags like these, officer."
Earlier at the house Mark and Bob had been making plans to go and look for Larry, and Mark had changed into the police uniform he took with him everywhere. ("Never know when an air of authority might help"). But when they discovered that Randy and his truck had gone they guessed where he was headed and raced after him until they saw his truck parked in the sand.
Now Mark looked down at the bound and broken thugs, then up at Randy whose T-shirt hung in rags over his bruised body. "Man, you don't mess around do you?"
"Take care of the kid," Randy said. "He got hit behind the legs with a crowbar."
Bob ran over to Larry who was sitting on the ground rubbing the back of his legs just below his butt. "You OK, Larry. Can you walk?'
"Yes sir," Larry murmured in a cowed voice. "Just bruised I think, back of the thighs."
"OK," Mark said firmly, "I'm in charge now. I'll mop up here and take care of these two. He looked down at them scornfully. "Judging from the smell coming from that other trailer I don't need to ask what you got cooking back there. Decrepit old meth lab like that, you could a' blown yourself up. Instead of that you're gonna rot in jail. I'm not gonna arrest you, I'll leave that to my buddies on the local police force.
"Bob, I want you to take Randy and Larry back to the house in Randy's truck. I'll call my buddies and help them mop up here, but I want Larry long gone before they get here. I'll drive myself back in Mike's truck later." He went to Randy and supported him as he staggered to the truck. "You're a damn fool, buddy, but I love you for it. Two on one, you could a' got hurt real bad."
"Have you ever known me lose a fight, officer?" Randy grinned, wincing as they walked. "Just don't expect me to fuck your ass again for a few days."
"Yeah, well if you try that again, that's one fight you will lose. Ever heard of payback time, stud?"
He helped Randy crawl into the truck and lay full length on the back seat while Bob helped Larry into the front seat, then got in behind the wheel. Mark looked at Larry through the open window. "Keep this window open in case you need to throw up. And Larry, I'll fix it so you don't face any charges with your buddies back there. Though I guess you won't get off so easily with Mike. Drive carefully, Bob. You don't wanna shake these guys up any more than they already are."
"Thanks a million, Mark," Bob called out as Mark walked back to the thugs pulling out his phone.
Nothing more was said on the drive home. Randy lay on the back seat with his eyes closed and Larry slumped in the front seat trying not to think of the scene behind them nor what the future had in store for him.
Mike was waiting for them at the gate when they reached the house. Anxiety was written all over him, but huge relief too at seeing Larry. Bob got out and had a quiet word with him. "Everything's fine, Mike, thanks to Randy and his fists. It was like you said, two thugs with a meth lab. But Randy beat them to a pulp and left them tied up. Mark's taking care of it all now with the local cops, and he promises to keep Larry's name out of it.
"So here's what I'd like you to do, buddy. Randy took a pretty bad beating himself, but knowing him he'll recover pretty fast. I want you to take care of him, help him in the shower then put him to bed. I need to talk to Larry. He's pretty shook up so it's best you wait till he's calmed down before you make any decisions."
"Bob, I don't know how to thank you guys for ..."
"Then don't try, Mike. That's what buddies are for. Just see to Randy for me."
Mike opened the truck door and helped Randy crawl out. When his feet touched the ground he stumbled forward and Mike caught him in his arms in a tight hug. "Here, I've got you, boy. Let me take care of you for once. Dammit, you're like son to me." Randy recovered his footing and let Mike help him through the gate. "We gotta get you a new shirt too, boy."
"No really?" Randy grinned painfully. "Ragged is a great look. Turns guys on."
Bob smiled as he watched them make slowly for the house, then turned his attention to Larry.
<><> BOB WORKS HIS MAGIC <><>
A few minutes later they were sitting at the small table on the lawn under a shade tree and Bob had brought out brandy from the house. "Here, drink this, Larry, it'll help calm your nerves."
Larry sipped sullenly without making eye contact and Bob said gently, "Larry, I'm not here to reprimand you, but I do have a few questions and I need you to look at me while I'm talking."
Slowly Larry raised his head and Bob was moved to see tears in his eyes. "That's better. I just need to clarify a few things so I know the best way to help. First, are you still tripping on meth?"
Larry growled, "Ain't it obvious?" He saw Bob's brown eyes flinch slightly and caught himself. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to talk to you like that. Thing is, I'm probably coming down and there's only two things to do – either do another bump of crystal, or crash."
"By crash I think you mean to fall into one of those deep, long sleeps. Well the first alternative is not an option as I'm sure you understand. But bed is certainly possible. Are you tired?"
Larry looked at Bob, frowned, and tears flowed down his cheeks. "Yes I am, sir. Dead tired. Tired of everything, of the mess I've made and ..."
"It's OK, Larry, in a few minutes you can go to bed and crash for however long it takes. But first there's another very important question, and I want you to think carefully, then answer me truthfully. "Larry, are you still in love with Mike?"
Larry sobbed. "Yes of course I am, sir. I've loved him since the day we met and it gets stronger all the time. And it scares me. That's why I gotta leave him."
"Leave him? Why?"
"Because I don't wanna hurt him no more. He's too good and generous to have a loser like me. I don't wanna cause him any more pain. Face it, sir, I'm not the kind of guy who can be trusted or be in love with anyone. Look how I fucked up, and it's not the first time, and it sure as hell won't be the last. Like I said, I'm a total loser. I don't belong with a guy like Mike. I should just get the hell back to St. Louis where I fit in."
The tears were flowing now and Bob was moved by the clumsy way he brushed them away, like an unhappy small boy. He rested his hand on Larry's. "Larry, do you think Mike still loves you?"
"I know he does, sir. You can see it in his eyes ... such gentle eyes. That's what makes it worse. I gotta just clear out."
"Larry, when Mike met you and fell in love with you he knew what he was getting, warts and all. He knew you're no saint, and he welcomed the challenge." Bob was silent for a while to let that sink in, then he squeezed his hand.
"Listen Larry. You just said you don't want to hurt Mike anymore. Do you think that leaving him would take away his pain? I think we both know the answer to that. You see Larry, love can sometimes be overwhelming. But I hope you believe me when I say that running away from love is never the answer. You have to embrace it even harder.
"I honestly can't believe you really want to run away from the love of a man like Mike and go back to the abusive dad you escaped from. Do you, Larry? Do you?"
"No, sir," the boy replied in a very small voice.
"Larry look at me." Larry's watery eyes met Bob's tender gaze. "Do you think you can trust me?"
"Yes I do, sir."
"Then I'll talk to Mike before you confront him. I have a feeling he desperately wants to open up to someone. But in the meantime I want you to promise me that you won't do anything rash. That should be easy as I'm going put you to bed and you'll probably crash for a long time. Do we have a deal?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. And ... and will you thank Randy, sir? He was incredible but he could a' got killed."
Bob chuckled, "Oh, Randy's a tough nut to crack. He always comes out on top – bloodied but unbowed. That big gypsy never bows to anyone – except perhaps to Mike who's putting him to bed as we speak."
A few minutes later they were in Larry's room, a room he rarely used as he always slept with Mike. Bob wanted him to sleep alone now, so he helped him undress, put him to bed and pulled warm blankets over him. He was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
<><> ADVICE FROM DOCTOR STEVE <><>
While Larry slept and Mike ministered to Randy, Bob went back out to the garden, poured another brandy ... and phoned Doctor Steve. "Bob, thank god you called. Ever since I heard what was going on I've been worried."
"Well stop worrying Steve `cos things are kinda stable right now." Bob related the whole story – their trip out here, Mike's anguished story, Randy's impulsive intervention and the huge fight where he demolished the thugs.
"Mark was great too. As usual he was the calm authoritative cop and he's taking care of the legal side. The goons were running a meth lab but Mark is miraculously keeping Larry's name out of everything so at least he'll be in no legal trouble. Randy was pretty banged up so he's sleeping it off. Larry's asleep too – crashing he calls it."
"Yeah, and he'll probably sleep the clock round," Steve said. "You see, Bob, meth is the real problem here. Until the boy stops using nothing's gonna work. So the first thing we need to do is get him away from all the triggers – the desert, the bar where he runs into some pretty unsavory characters, anything that reminds him of the drug and triggers resumption."
"How do we do that, doc? Any ideas?"
"Actually yes. You know of course that Seth moved out of our guesthouse up here in the hills. Well Lloyd and I redecorated it and refurnished it so it's ready for another move-in. What would be perfect is if Mike could bring Larry into town and they had a short vacation in the guesthouse. Larry likes Tommy and Lloyd, he can have private therapy from me, and we'll all keep him and Mike company and do whatever we can.
"It won't be easy, they've both got a hard slog in front of them, but up here is a good place to start. So do you think you could arrange for that to happen, Bob?"
"Steve, after this I have a feeling I could arrange anything – with a lot of help from your brother Randy and his deadly fists."
"So how is my wild impulsive brother, dude?"
"Well it seems it was a massive two-on-one fight, and the thugs were no pushover – tough and high on meth. So Randy took quite a beating, but you know your brother. He never gives up, then picks himself up and dusts himself off like it was all in a day's work."
"So it's true what they say," Steve chuckled. "Randy's the brawn and you're the brains of the outfit."
"Yeah, I've heard that said, Steve. Then the gorgeous cop Mark comes in and takes charge, mops up the damage and gets us out of trouble – the strong, muscular arm of the law."
Steve laughed. "Damn, there's no stopping you three. What a trio. Triumphant every time."
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 504
Hey guys, this is Rob Williams. I hope that chapter got you off, and I welcome your comments and suggestions, which can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me in confidence at rw6789@aol.com.
ALSO, I invite you to visit my own Web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. You can read the whole story, with extras including pictures and biographies of all the characters.
AND DON'T FORGET – IF YOU ENJOY THESE STORIES, PLEASE DONATE to this site. Nifty needs your donations to provide these thousands of wonderful stories. So please go to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html and donate what you can. All the other writers and I thank you.