A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 251 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: After the fight, healing the wounds. Darius helps the humbled Pablo restore his manhood. "The young black muscle-boy knelt doggy-style in just tank-top and boots. `Come on, dude – do it'." Randy shows he is not all caveman by making tender love to Bob. "Look at me, buddy. It's just you and me. I'm in your eyes, in your head..." And Doc Steve has a plan for the rival cop and gypsy, and their boys.

Chapter 251 – "Healing The Wounds"

Jamie was riding the wave of his master the cop's adulation. He had triumphantly proved his manhood beyond doubt, first in the dunes with Mark and Bob, then at Steve and Lloyd's house. However, that old saying – "every cloud has a silver lining' – works in reverse too. No matter how dazzling, every light throws a shadow and that was the certainly case with Jamie's brilliant transformation.

The first flickering embers of discord had already been visible when Mark and Jamie came home from the dunes and all the boys reacted enthusiastically except one – Pablo. He saw Jamie's rise to manhood as a threat to his own dominant position among the boys, the `boss's boy' as he persisted on calling himself.

Some conflicts take only a small spark to ignite them, but when they burst into flames the fire spreads rapidly. The spark in this case was struck, not unexpectedly, by Pablo who late one afternoon barged into the office where Jamie and Brandon were just finishing work. Determined to prove his authority over the cop's boy, Pablo picked a fight.

Jamie restrained his growing anger and backed away with his arms stretched up in a truce gesture. "I don't wanna fight you, Pablo, but don't push me any further or, by god, I'll ..."

"Please," Brandon interjected, alarmed that the situation was escalating out of control. "Don't fight, guys, there's no need for that. Back off, Pablo, or..."

"Or what?" Pablo sneered, "you'll make me? Stay out of this, punk, and leave it to the big guys. Let me remind you, kid, you're in a wheelchair so what you gonna do? You gonna wheel yourself outside and beat me up? Yeah, like that's gonna happen." He shoved Brandon's wheelchair with his foot and sent it banging into the wall.

Nothing made Jamie madder than hearing Brandon sneered at, and he sprang to his defense. "You worthless piece of shit," Jamie yelled. "OK, man ... outside."

At first Pablo got the upper hand in the fight and Brandon tried to intervene, for which he was rewarded by Pablo kicking over his wheelchair. But the over-confident Pablo was surprised by Jamie's rarely used fighting skills and the `boss's boy' ended up the loser, stunned and helpless as Jamie pinned him face down on the ground and fucked his ass.

The trouble escalated quickly as Randy impulsively ran to Pablo's aid. When Bob tried to restrain him Randy swung round angrily, his fists flailing so wildly he managed to slam Bob on the jaw and send him sprawling on the ground.

Mark, who had just come home, still in his uniform, howled and sprang at Randy, his own anger bursting into flames. Not only was his boy in danger from Randy, but he had just seen the man he idolized beaten to the ground by the savage gypsy who was clearly out of control. Mark's own love for Randy was beside the point right now. Right now he had to be stopped.

Randy was unnerved by what he had done, slugging Bob, something he had promised never to do again. As he hesitated in confusion Mark seized the advantage and whaled into Randy with both fists.

By now the rest of the clan had crowded into the garden and Zack took control. "Stand back, guys," he ordered in his deep, commanding voice. "Just let this play out ... nobody interfere."

They all stood back and watched the incredible scene in nervous silence. Randy and his boy lay on their stomachs facing the floor-length window of the house, their arms stretched forward. Mark had handcuffed them both to the low spikes along the flowerbed under the window.

"You fucking bastard," Mark growled. "Once a caveman always a caveman, I guess. You slammed Bob with your fist and you know what that means. I can't let you get away with that, man." He took off his uniform shirt and T-shirt and loomed over Randy shirtless in black uniform pants and high black motorcycle boots. "You know what's gonna happen, man. It has to."

Zack had put out a call to Steve and when the doctor walked in he gazed at the extraordinary spectacle of the cop and his boy side by side, pounding the asses of the gypsy boss and his boy. He said softly, "What the hell's going on, Zack? No don't tell me – it's obvious." He sighed. "Guess we could all see this coming for some time. Nobody badly hurt, I hope?"

"Nah," Zack said, "just a few bruises, hurt feelings – and two very sore asses. God knows where it all goes from here, though. Any ideas?"

"Oh yeah," Steve smiled, "I think we can steer this into a good place, Zack. I have a plan."

"Trust you, doc," Zack grinned. "I thought you would. That's why I called you. But right now I guess all we can do is stand back and enjoy the show."

Enjoy the show? Questionable.

As the dual fuck by Mark and Jamie increased in ferocity and the handcuffed master and boy groaned and writhed beneath them, `enjoy' was not quite the word for what the spectators were feeling. Sure, there were a lot of stiff cocks among the men watching, but the erotic spectacle was tempered with the anxiety of how this could escalate.

The irony was that Randy, Bob and Mark had recently acknowledged their love for each other and had become a triumvirate of mutual passion. Now that unity seemed doomed, and everyone knew that this had the potential of splitting the tribe into rival factions. Ben, for instance – who as Randy's young brother was fiercely loyal to him – was already looking confused at his friend Brandon who was Jamie's buddy and had been attacked by Randy's boy.

Even Mark and Jamie weren't doing this for pleasure, though on several levels it felt damn good. They not only had the visceral pleasure of driving their cocks into the hot asses of their bound captives, but also the satisfaction of avenging Bob, for the attack by Randy, and Brandon, sent sprawling by Pablo.

Their main aim here was not pleasure, but the need to show Randy and Pablo, and the assembled spectators, that although the two persisted in the belief that they were the boss and the boss's boy, that did not give them the right to run roughshod over the others. After all, Bob, Mark and Zack were of equal status with Randy, and Pablo was just one of the senior boys with Darius, Jamie and the twins.

Randy and Pablo needed to learn that they were not all-powerful – they could be beaten in a fight, tied up and fucked, as they were now. Sure, Randy had been following his instincts to protect his boy, but he never stopped to consider that his boy might be in the wrong.

As the gypsy and his boy suffered, impaled on the pistons driving into them, Steve looked anxiously at Zack. Zack was about to step in when Mark said, "OK, Jamie, they've had enough. Let's finish them off. You ready?" Jamie nodded eagerly and Mark shouted, "OK, Randy, this is for what you did to Bob." Jamie yelled at Pablo, "And this is for Brandon."

To the sound of the victims' screams, the pile-driving cocks slammed into their writhing bodies and they felt semen pouring deep inside them. The pounding cocks didn't slow down until they were drained of jizz that was now oozing out of the victims' shattered asses.

At last they pulled their cocks out, Mark stood up and helped Jamie to his feet. He tossed the handcuff keys to Zack and, without a word or another glance, put his arm round Jamie and walked him into their apartment.

Zack released the prisoners who stood up unsteadily and quickly wiped the cum from their stomachs, embarrassed at having lost their loads while Mark and Jamie fucked them. Then they too walked silently to the house and went up to Pablo's room.

Steve stood back, watching the remaining spectators carefully to gauge their mood. He was most impressed by Ben, Eddie and Brandon who, although nominally on different sides, were hugging each other, with Eddie and Ben on their knees beside Brandon's wheelchair. Nothing, it seemed, could come between the `three amigos'. "See that, Zack?" Steve said. "The whole house could take a lesson from those kids – especially my brother Randy and his boy."

Helped by the twins, Bob walked slowly over to them, rubbing his chin. Steve embraced him, then looked carefully into his eyes for signs of concussion. "You OK, Bob? Vision clear? Not feeling dizzy?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Wasn't such a hard punch – I've taken a lot worse from Randy in my time. This time he didn't really mean it – an unlucky swing of his fist."

"Godammit, Bob!" Zack had a momentary flash of anger. "You're always too forgiving of Randy. The man could never control his rage, even after all those anger-management sessions with you, Steve."

"Let's leave the post-mortem for a bit later, guys," Steve said. "Right now the two men and their boys are in the right place nursing their bruises and, in Randy's case, bruised egos. Like I said, I do have a plan but it'll meet some resistance so let's let the dust settle for a while, shall we?"

"Steve's right," Bob agreed, then turned to the twins. "Hey, guys, thanks for all your help, but what I'd like now is for you to go back to the kitchen and get dinner ready. At times like this routine is real important to restore order and you two are just the guys to calm things down.

"Sure thing, sir," they said in unison, pleased to be able to contribute their skills in the way they knew best ... cooking. They ran off to the kitchen and Bob gazed after them murmuring, "Thank god for the twins. OK, guys, I'm going upstairs to clean up but Steve, can you stick around for dinner? I've a feeling we're gonna need all of your professional expertise."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Steve grinned. "OK if I ask Lloyd too? Don't wanna leave him up there cooking a dinner we're not gonna eat."

That was agreed, naturally, then Bob turned to Zack and shook his hand. "Man, here I go again thanking you for all your help. This could have got totally out of hand if you hadn't taken charge the way you did. I gotta find a way to really thank you."

"I can think of several ways, big guy, but we'll leave that for later. Go get cleaned up and if you have any more trouble with his majesty let me know. I'm about the only guy Randy doesn't wanna tangle with. He respects me – hell, sometimes I think he's even a bit scared of me. And there ain't much that scares that guy."

And so the group dispersed. Pete took Brandon next door to Adam's house, along with Nate, Eddie and Ben. Zack and Darius cleared up the field of battle – handcuffs, ripped clothes, boots – then Darius said, "I'm gonna go up and check on Pablo. He's my guy after all and he must be feeling pretty bad right about now."

"Sure thing," Zack agreed. "I'll stick around with Steve. Don't know about you, doc, but I need a drink."

Before he left, Darius got one closing video shot of the pile of ripped clothes in the now quiet garden. And when he shut off the camera Zack said, "Reckon that's a wrap, eh kiddo?"

"One for the archives," Darius grinned.

When Darius went upstairs to his and Pablo's small apartment Randy and Pablo were sitting side by side on the bed in silence, sullenly drinking beers. Randy hardly knew how to react, knowing that Pablo had attacked Brandon, a boy Randy loved and admired.

"Oh, sorry, sir," said Darius, backing out the door.

"No wait. Come in, kid – it's your place after all, and I gotta go talk to Bob anyway." He stood up and left the room with a whispered aside to Darius – "Help him, kid."

Pablo didn't make eye contact and stared down at the floor. Darius's heart went out to him, despite the fact that he had acted so badly to Jamie and Brandon. He loved Pablo and knew him better than almost anyone – they had been boyfriends since Pablo first came to live in the house. So he knew the drubbing the proud `boss's boy' had taken to his ego and reputation, not to mention his ass. What made it doubly worse was the fact that his master, the all-powerful gypsy, had suffered the same fate beside him, handcuffed together.

Darius wasn't sure how to begin, but Pablo spared him the trouble by saying gruffly, "You come to gloat at the loser? Guess you wanna fuck me too, like everyone else. They're probably lined up at the door and I'll have to pull the train for all of them now that Jamie's the senior boy and his cop owns the place."

Darius sat down next to him. "You finished? Dude, I gotta tell ya, self-pity is a very unattractive thing, especially in a stud like you. Where's that macho defiance I've always loved in my guy? And you are my guy, kiddo – always will be no matter what. You think I've come to gloat? That bums me out, dude. I'm your boyfriend, for god's sake, and boyfriends help each other when they're on a downer."

"Surprised you still wanna be my boyfriend now Randy's not the boss anymore and I'm not the boss's boy."

"Godammit, is that all you can think of? You think I love you coz of this boss's boy' bullshit? Wise up, kid. Randy is still the boss of the tribe no matter what happened, and you're still his boy, so you better start acting like it. I love you, dude, because of the man you are under that tough hide of yours" – he grinned – "that and the most spectacular ass in town."

Pablo shot to his feet and sneered, "Yeah that's it, the truth at last – my ass. That's all you want from me. While you're at it why don't you hang out a sign and sell tickets? ... `Roll up, guys, come fuck the loser's ass – the line forms here'." His dropped his shorts, turned round and patted the globes of his ass. "Here it is, guys. Come and get it!"

Darius lost it. He whirled Pablo around and shoved him hard onto the bed. "Shut the fuck up, dude, and don't ever talk to me like that. Let me remind you, pal, you fucked up again – big time. But I'm your friend, your buddy, and I came up here to see what I could do to help. Not much apparently while you're wallowing in self-pity. I'm outa here."

"No!" Pablo's voice softened and he suddenly became a little boy. "Please don't leave, Darius. I need you, you're my best buddy and I'm sorry I said all that." He even managed his crooked grin as he pulled his legs back and displayed his ass. "Here, you can fuck me, dude – like you always do."

"That's better, kid." Darius flashed his dazzling smile. "Now that you're ready to listen, dude, I'll tell you why I came here. First, watch this..."

He pulled off his denim sleeveless shirt. Underneath he had on a black tank top stretched over the ebony muscles of his torso. He was wearing black jeans and work boots and walked round the bed, lithe as a panther, with Pablo's hungry eyes following his every move. Pablo's self-pitying misery was banished as he watched the husky black buck circling him.

Darius unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. When his massive ten-inch black dick sprang out Pablo gasped, "Oh fuck...!" Darius bent down, pulled off his boots and dropped his pants. He put the boots back on and straightened up. "Jesus," Pablo said stroking his cock hard as he gazed at the muscular black stud wearing nothing but his black tank and work boots.

"You like that?" Darius asked, not waiting for a reply. "Not the kinda guy you mouth off to, right? Now come here." He reached down, grabbed Pablo's wrist and pulled him into a tight bear hug, grinding their mouths together in a ferocious kiss. Pablo wrapped his arms round Darius and felt his back muscles rippling under the tank, and the huge horse-dick pressing against his stomach. When he pulled back Pablo gasped, "Are you gonna fuck me, dude?"

Darius threw his head back and laughed. "Man, you're a glutton for punishment. After what happened to you out there you still want my big club in your tortured ass. Nah, I think you've been fucked enough for one day, kid. I had something else in mind. You good and hard down here?" He groped Pablo's cock. "Course you are. OK, stud, get ready."

Darius got down on all fours on the bed facing the full-length wall mirror at the head of the bed. (All the beds in this house had mirrors behind the beds – Randy had made sure of that.)

On hands and knees Darius gazed into the mirror at his own reflection, naked except for the black tank over his torso and his boots. "See that black stallion, man? Takes a real man to ride that. You up for it?"

Pablo knew what Darius was doing ... after his humiliation this was a way for Pablo to reassert his manhood. But that was only a glancing thought. Mostly he was blown away by the image of the young black muscle-stud kneeling doggy-style on the bed in just tank-top and boots, his ass thrust up waiting to get ploughed, his cock hanging down so far that it touched the bed.

It was Pablo who usually yielded his flawless ass to Darius's ten inches, but now, seeing the big black buck in a submissive pose fired up all of Pablo's macho instincts. A short while ago he had been humiliatingly beaten and fucked by Jamie, but now he was back on top. He dipped his fingers in a jar of lube they kept by the bed and greased up his dick. Then he knelt behind Darius and pushed his fingers into his ass.

Darius groaned as he looked at his boyfriend in the mirror. In full macho mode Pablo growled, "Man, it's gonna be hot fucking a stud like you. You want my dick in that black ass?"

"Yeah, fuck me man ... fuck me hard ... I wanna really feel it."

"You got it, big guy." Pablo pressed his cock against Darius's hole and gazed into the reflection of Darius's rugged face, a younger version of the spectacular Zack ... then drove his rod deep into the bowels of his ass. Darius's face reared back and he howled, "Yeah, fuck that ass, man. Show me you're still the boss's boy."

The boss's boy! Those words spurred Pablo on to erase the memory of his earlier defeat and he became a fuck machine. He grabbed Darius's hips and pulled his ass onto his cock, pounding it like a sledgehammer. He watched Darius's face wince in pain, his shoulders and arms flexing as he braced himself on the bed.

"Man, your ass is so fucking hot ... I'm gonna rip you open, boy." Still fucking hard, he reached forward, grabbed the back of Darius's tank and pulled him upright, still on his knees. Pablo pressed his chest against his back, reached round with both hands and squeezed his nipples hard through the tank while his own pubic hair slammed against Darius's ass cheeks.

"Aaagh," Darius howled as pain shot through his chest and ass. Pablo stared wildly at the near naked leather boy in the mirror. "Man, you are so fucking hot," Pablo gasped between thrusts. "I wanna see it all."

He raised his hands from the tits to the top of the tank and yanked it down to the sound of ripping cotton as the shirt tore and hung in shreds from his shoulders, exposing the full glory of his pecs and six-pack abs, sweat glistening in the black curly hair on his chest. Pablo was driven crazy by the sight of the gorgeous young buck in the mirror, his whole torso flexing, his massive black cock bouncing before him as he jerked forward with each blow to his ass.

In long bondage sessions Zack had trained Darius to be tough and withstand pain and now it paid off. He was feeling only exhilaration as he yelled, "Come on, boy ... that all you got? Pound that ass. Show me how Randy's boy fucks."

"OK, man, you asked for it..." Pablo pushed him forward so Darius was bracing himself on his elbows, his ass sticking up almost vertically. Pablo stood up and pulled Darius's hips even higher, his ass still impaled on his cock. Standing with his legs astride, his hands locked on Darius's hips, Pablo now drove his rod downward, falling hard onto the upstretched ass again and again with brutal impact.

Now Darius was feeling real pain and instinctively he tried to crawl forward on his elbows toward the mirror. With his last reserves of strength he reached forward and slammed his palms against the glass. Painfully he clawed higher and higher up the mirror until he was able to stagger to his feet, even though the piston still powered into his ass. Sweat was pouring down his gleaming face, chest and abs and soaking the tangle of black pubic hair at the base of his jerking cock.

"You can't take much more, boy, and you know it," Pablo jeered triumphantly. But in a defiant response Darius thrust his ass back hard so the cock sank even deeper. "So that's the way you wanna play it, eh, stud? OK, here it comes." Pablo held Darius's hips, pushed his ass forward almost off his cock, then rammed it back so his shaft speared Darius's ass savagely.

His hands braced against the mirror, his ass helplessly impaled on his lover' cock, Darius gave a full throated scream and a long ribbon of white juice streamed from his huge cock and slammed against the glass, again and again until cum was streaming down the mirror.

The force of his ejaculation drove Darius off balance, he fell backward onto Pablo and, still joined together, they landed on their backs on the bed. The force of Darius thudding on top of him rammed Pablo's cock ever deeper into his ass and it exploded inside him. As Pablo howled Darius blew the last of his load in a stream of jizz that arced high in the air and splashed back down on their heaving bodies.

As always when Darius and Pablo had great sex ... they started to laugh. They rolled over in each other's arms, kissing through their laughter until finally Darius gasped. Dude you were one hot mother-fucker there. It was like getting fucked by Zack" – and they both knew there was no better praise than that.

When at last they calmed down they lay with their faces close together and Darius said, "Shit, kiddo, forget that bullshit earlier in the garden, this was the guy I know and love. Talk about top man... But seriously dude, you've acted real crazy, and that thing you did to Brandon – way outa line, a big no-no in this house. There are a lot of fences to be mended, the whole house is pretty fucked up and you can't just go charging back in, all guns blazing, like you did with me.

"See..." (Darius could get quite professorial sometimes) "...stuff like this you gotta finesse, kiddo, stay aloof, rise above it like I do. Keep your mouth shut ..."

"... like you do," Pablo grinned. "Dude, they don't call you motor-mouth for nothing."

"Yeah, well, bad example..." they both sputtered with laughter, then Darius became serious again. "No, I'm telling you, stuff like this could go on and on – fighting, revenge, revenge for the revenge – it's what you call a ..." (he made a stab at it) "...a viscous cycle – kinda like the Middle East." (He had once heard someone say that.)

"The Middle East?" Pablo winced doubtfully, sensing that `viscous' was not right and that Darius probably thought the Middle East was Chicago. Darius was getting way out of his depth here. When he all brainy like this he could get carried away and now he groped for a soft landing.

"What I'm saying is, dude, Steve says he has a plan to stop everyone stirring the shit. Well, maybe he didn't actually use those words – can't remember – but that's what he meant. So you gotta listen to him. He's the shrink, after all."

But Pablo had already tuned Darius out and had a faraway, troubled look in his eye. Darius waved his hand in front of Pablo's face. "Hello – Earth to Pablo. Where'd you go, dude?"

Pablo shrugged. "Oh ... next door in the master suite. I'm worried about Randy, facing Bob after what he did to him."

"Ah, don't sweat it, kid. If I know anything – and I know a lot – Bob can handle that situation. Now there's a guy who knows a lot too."

Pablo smiled at him. "Thanks for everything, Darius. I know I don't deserve it after what I did." He stroked Darius's cock. "Er ... talking of revenge ... you gonna take yours?"

"Naturally," Darius said grandly. "OK, kid, show me those hot buns of yours."

The fence-mending process Darius referred to was only in its infancy as Randy well knew, and as he hesitated at the door of the master suite he had no idea how to begin. His fucking anger! It had got him in a mess of trouble again and he had done something he promised Bob and himself he would never do again – he had slugged him. He hadn't meant to but ... oh shit.

Usually when he was in trouble he turned to Bob for help, but how could he ask for help from the man he had just sent sprawling on the ground? Feeling very alone he turned the doorknob and went in. He crossed their living room and went hesitantly into the bedroom where Bob was at his desk writing. For a panic-stricken moment Randy thought he was writing a goodbye note, but when Bob looked up he was smiling. However, he wasn't going to let Randy off the hook so easily so he just looked at him – questioningly.

As always in a moment of tension Randy clenched his fists, usually as a prelude to slugging someone. He stammered, "I, er ... I ... look, man, I ..."

Bob took pity on him. "Come here, buddy." Randy shuffled forward and stood before him like a guilty boy. Bob reached out, took one of his fists and uncurled the clenched fingers, then gently did the same with the other fist. "That's better," Bob grinned. "Now, you were saying?"

Randy actually sank to his knees before him. "Man, I don't know what to say. Except I love you, man. But I don't know what else to say."

"I know," Bob agreed. "Tricky isn't it? All that ritual we used to go through – apologies, promises, forgiveness – we're way beyond that. But hey, kneeling down won't cut it. Get up, buddy." Bob stood up, put his hands under Randy's arms and pulled him up to face him.

Only then did Randy see the bruise on Bob's handsome face and, with a stifled sob he leaned forward to kiss it, lick it, then kissed his eyes so tenderly it surprised even Bob. He pushed Randy gently away and gazed into his eyes. "That felt great, man. Hey, I know you can do caveman ... but can you do tender?"

Randy managed a grin. As usual Bob had given him his cue and he ran with it.

Bob was wearing a white shirt, black slacks and loafers. Randy gave him another soft kiss on the lips, then slowly unbuttoned Bob's shirt. He pushed it back off his shoulders and moaned as he stared at the sculpted muscles of his chest and abs. The shirt fell back and hung from his waist, tucked into his pants.

"Oh man," Randy breathed, gazing at his gorgeous lover stripped to the waist. He leaned forward and kissed Bob's neck, then licked his pecs, his nipples and down over his ripped abs. He sank to his knees, unzipped Bob's pants and pulled out his already-hard cock. He closed his mouth over it, pushed forward and swallowed it deep down his throat, burying his face in the dark tangle of pubic hair and breathing in the musky essence of his manhood.

Bob looked down at the rugged gypsy on his knees and ran his hands through his long shaggy black hair. "Feels good, man," Bob sighed as Randy's mouth rose up and down on his cock. Soon Randy drew back, unbuckled Bob's belt and pulled his pants and shorts down to his ankles. As he got slowly to his feet he ran his hands up over his calves, thighs, hips and his lats until they were once again face to face.

"I love you, man," Randy said. He put his hands round Bob's waist, picked him up effortlessly and laid him gently on his back on the bed. He pulled his loafers, his pants and shorts off over his feet and gazed down at him lying naked. "So fucking beautiful," Randy said. "Man, I won't insult you by saying I'm sorry. I'm no good at speeches. Hell, this is all I know how to do."

How many times had Bob lay on his back gazing up at the rugged construction boss after work, his eyes gleaming with lust in his gypsy face, dark hair falling over his forehead, his square, stubbled jaw clenched tight? How many times had he tensed, waiting for Randy to fall on him and pound his ass like a wild stallion? Not this time though.

Sure, the big guy was still wearing the dirty cargo pants and boots he had put on after the fight, and his old faded tank top, filthy after the ass-fuck had pounded him into the ground. But now Bob watched spellbound as the fiery caveman was transformed into gentle lover. Randy pulled off his tank, kicked off his boots and dropped his pants. He paced naked round the bed breathing deeply, never taking his eyes off Bob, his massive cock swinging between his thighs.

He knelt at the foot of the bed and kissed Bob's feet, ran his tongue up his legs, then licked his balls. Bob gasped as he felt the stubbled chin graze his cock and balls. Then Randy pushed Bob's legs up and he buried his face in his ass, probing it with his insistent tongue. When he raised his head he pushed Bob's legs further, leaning on them and doubling them over Bob so their faces were inches apart. Bob gasped as he felt his lover's cock rubbing against his ass.

Randy's steel blue eyes bored into Bob's. "I wanna make love to you, buddy. OK with you?"

"If you don't I'll slug you," Bob smiled – a mocking jab at what had caused all this. "You're a wild man, you know that. But even a wild man can be tamed. I love you, Randy."

Randy's cock was now rock hard and he gently eased it into Bob's ass, already wet with saliva. Slowly it pushed in deeper and deeper until it passed over the inner sphincter and came to rest. "That's where we belong, buddy. Right there." Bob sighed, "Mmmm ... do it some more."

Randy leaned forward and kissed Bob's eyes, then his mouth, as he pulled his cock slowly back, then again penetrated the soft membrane of his ass. He gazed at Bob's glorious face as it rocked from side to side in ecstasy, then he gently twisted his nipples in his fingers.

"Aah." Reflexively Bob reached up and did the same to Randy, gazing up at the dark, sinewy body rising and falling over him, feeling the infinite pleasure of his cock moving inside him.

The pain and chaos of the day was fast slipping away and Randy growled, "Fuck the world, buddy. Come with me." He grabbed Bob's wrists and pinned them to the bed above his head. Their faces were inches apart and they saw themselves reflected in each other's eyes. "You're my prisoner now. Like I've put a rope round your neck and pulled you into my world. There's no-one else there except you and me. And I'm gonna keep you there forever."

The magic happened again, as it always did. They drifted into each other's eyes, into each other's world, and it became one world – their world where everything else faded into oblivion. Randy smiled. "See how grand it is, buddy? And it's real ... just you and me forever. I'm in your eyes, in your head..."

"Not to mention my ass," Bob said.

"Yeah, that too," Randy grinned, his blue eyes sparkling in his swarthy face. And now you mention it, you wanna feel my juice in your ass?"

"I may be your prisoner in this secret world of yours, but I can make you cum any time I want."

"Sounds like a challenge. Show me." Randy drove his cock in deep and once again it passed over the inner sphincter of Bob's ass. Bob's eyes flashed and he clenched his ass muscles tight round Randy's cock, trapping it inside the furnace of the deepest cavity. Randy gasped with a mix of pain and exquisite pleasure and instinctively tried to pull back, but he was trapped.

"Now who's the prisoner?" Bob gloated. "Feel it? Feel your lover's ass? Feel the fire racing through your body? Only one thing you can do. You gotta shoot, man ... in my ass ... in your lover's ass ... now!"

"Aaaagh..." The unworldly cry curled round the room as Randy's cock erupted deep in the secret cavern, as if Bob's whole body was sucking his juice out of him. He reared back and Bob saw the spectacular sight of the rugged gypsy towering over him, his arms thrashing, black hair flying, every muscle of his amazing body flexed as his manhood pumped out of him into the fire of Bob's ass.

Randy gazed wildly at him, lowered his head to just above Bob's cock which he pounded in his fist. Instantly Bob howled, "Yes ... Yeess!" His cock blasted a stream of jizz straight up into Randy's open mouth. He swallowed hard until the torrent of cum finally stopped. Then he fell forward, clamped his mouth over Bob's and let the warm juice flow between them, sharing the bitter-sweet nectar of their timeless love."

Randy and Bob were wrapped in each other's arms dozing. At least this part of the drama had been put to rest. Their love might be put to the test – it always had been throughout their turbulent relationship – but it was unbreakable, no matter how severe the stress. It was a force greater than outside threats, greater than the men themselves, and they held each other tight in the sure knowledge that it would endure.

Suddenly they were woken from their half-sleep by a booming racket outside. Randy sprang out of bed, ran to the window ... and burst out laughing. "You gotta see this, Bob." Bob joined him and stared down at the twins in the middle of the lawn. Kevin was holding out a big brass gong hanging from a rod and Kyle was energetically wielding a mallet with a rounded, leather-covered end.

"Yeah," Bob smiled, "They told me they were going to get a dinner gong. They were getting hoarse from yelling `Come and get it!' whenever a meal was ready. At least it's something you can't ignore – look, the boys are already running to the table. Quick shower and we'll join them."

The gong had the desired effect and within minutes everyone was seated at the table by the pool. Bob and Randy were the last to put in an appearance and the reaction was inevitable – loud cheers and applause. It was always obvious when the two men had been fucking as there was a glow about them – "hot enough to set the brush on fire,' as Darius said repeatedly.

At least this boisterous greeting broke the ice of what could have been a very chilly gathering after everyone had watched the drama that had the potential of sowing lasting discord in the tribe. But there were still reverberations of it in the air and Pablo, with a sullen expression, was sitting as far away from Jamie and Mark as possible. Darius, loyal as ever to this lover, had healed his immediate wounds but Pablo was far from forgiven by the tribe.

However, the group usually took its cue from the leaders, Randy and Bob, and if they had patched things up, as they obviously had, the signs were good. So conversation gradually returned to its usual pitch, even though there was one question looming on everyone's mind. With the efficiency of the house grapevine they had all heard of "Steve's Plan" to restore harmony and eyes kept glancing at him, waiting for him to reveal it.

The tension built and it was, inevitably, Randy who charged in head on. "OK, doc," he said to his brother, "what's this great scheme of yours to pour oil on troubled waters? Careful though, bro. Oil has to be handled right or it bursts into flames."

But his light-heartedness turned darker as Steve explained, with all eyes riveted on him. "OK, here goes. The four main players in this latest drama are you Randy, Mark, Pablo and Jamie. Everyone else is caught up in the backwash. In my opinion, what's needed is a time out, and I suggest two separate trips out of town for a night or two – a different trip for each man accompanied by a boy so they can sort things out away from the house."

"That's it?" Randy asked scornfully. "That's the big plan? Each man getting outta Dodge for a couple days with his boy, sort things out? Shit, that's a no-brainer, doc."

"No Randy," Steve smiled patiently, "you didn't get that quite right. I didn't say with HIS boy. I said a boy. You take Jamie, Mark takes Pablo."

There was a stunned silence round the table, broken by Randy who sputtered, "What? ... What? You're kidding, right? Jesus, I've heard you come up with some cockamamie schemes but this one bites the big one. Fuck, I don't have to sit here and listen to this bullshit."

He stood up to leave but Bob said calmly and wearily, "Randy ... sit down." Randy glared at him, at his big brown eyes ... and sat back down." Pablo too had been about to leave but he copied Randy and stayed put. He knew this crazy idea wouldn't fly anyway. But as Steve explained more fully he started to make sense.

"See, most confrontations have at their core a lack of communication – I mean the kind of communication that comes from spending time together – really getting to know each other. Of course, all four of you could go away together but that would most likely just perpetuate the anger and hostility – man against man, boy against boy. There's a lot of bad blood here.

"But I'm betting that if each man and the other man's boy get better acquainted they'll discover stuff about each other that'll help reduce their suspicions. Think of it as cross-breeding where different purebreds mate and the resulting mixed breed is a lot more resilient."

"You calling us mutts?!" Randy exploded. He was about to get up again but Bob glared at him wide-eyed and he kept his seat.

"Well I think Steve makes a lot of sense," Mark said evenly, and Jamie and I would go for it.

"Oh, is that so, asshole? Well let me tell you, it'll be a cold day in hell before I lend my boy to a fucking cop. And if you trust me to be alone with your kid you're a bigger fool than I thought."

"OK," said Steve calmly. "That's good – a lot of food for thought here. I expected your reaction, Randy, and I respect your opinion, but maybe when you've talked it over with Bob you may see things differently." Steve shot a knowing look at Bob who mouthed a sardonic `thanks buddy'.

As arranged, Lloyd had come to the house to join them for dinner and Steve now turned to him and changed the subject entirely, infuriating Randy who felt the wind go out of his sails. The buzz around the table built rapidly and more insistently than before, but Bob looked at Steve and smiled. The doctor knew exactly how to treat his brother and knew that handing the reins over to Bob provided the best chance for his plan to succeed.

Which was exactly the case, though it took a long time and all Bob's skill. His discussion later with Randy in their room began heatedly but Bob slowly brought Randy down to earth like landing a jumbo jet gently on a runway. More sex helped of course, where Randy was putty in Bob's hands, and when they finally fell asleep in each other's arms Bob smiled to himself.

It's a cliché but a true one,' he thought. Love sure does conquer all – even a big gypsy.'

Finally both men were on board with the idea – Mark willingly, Randy grudgingly. Steve suggested that the trip take place right away and they agreed, with Randy growling, "Sure, let's just get the fucking thing over with."

Bob had one concern that he discussed with Steve – would the boys be safe in what was, after all, still an antagonistic atmosphere? Steve reassured him that Randy or Mark would be crazy to mistreat the boys as the eyes of the whole tribe would be on them when they came home. In any case, Steve pointed out, it was in the men's own interest to prove they could be magnanimous, worthy of their leadership positions in the house.

Jamie and Pablo followed their masters' wishes. A slight pang of anxiety was overcome by a tingling sense of adventure. If Steve and Bob were all for it they knew they would be safe.

The late afternoon departure was one of the noisiest the house had ever seen, as everyone came out to the gate to see them off. Randy had decided to take Jamie fishing at the quiet lake high up in the forest above Los Angeles. That was familiar turf to him and he figured that if things weren't working out he could always shove off alone in the boat in the middle of the lake.

Bob suggested to Mark that Pablo could do with a clean-up and a bit of sophistication as he spent most of his time, like his master, in grubby work clothes with daubs of grease on his face. Mark decided to take Pablo to the Ritz-Carlton down the coast in Laguna where he had taken Jamie a couple of times. To set the tone Bob loaned him his sleek black Mercedes for the trip.

Randy's truck was parked next to it, with the rowboat and fishing gear in the back. The other boys crowded round abuzz with excitement, with elaborate farewell hugs as if Jamie and Pablo were taking a journey down the Amazon rather than sixty-mile trips from L.A.

There was still a slight tension in the air but it was diminished when Brandon reached up and hugged Jamie, then wheeled his way over to Pablo and grinned, holding his arms open. After a moment's hesitation Pablo knelt down and held him in a long bear hug. "Thanks buddy," he whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry for what I said to you – I didn't mean a word of it"

Then Brandon looked up at Mark and Randy and said, "Please take care of them, sirs. They're my friends." Randy grinned and ruffled Brandon's hair. "Well, any friend of yours is a friend of mine, kiddo, so don't worry – we'll all come back in one piece." Bob smiled and nodded to Pete whose eyes were gleaming with pride at his boy – Brandon the peacemaker.

After a few quiet words of reassurance to their own boys Randy climbed into the truck with Jamie, and Mark and Pablo slid into the Mercedes. And they were off. Bob smiled at Steve. "You sure about this, doc?"

"Sure I'm sure," Steve said. "Just you wait and see."

A short while later the Mercedes swung onto the Golden State Freeway headed south. No words had been exchanged so far between Mark and Pablo and tension hung in the air, along with the luxurious scent of soft leather. Mark was wearing blue jeans and the black ripped tank top that always turned Jamie on so much. He guessed that it would have a similar effect on Pablo, and he was right, though Pablo would never had admitted it in a million years.

The boys stole glances at the man beside him, at his hard-as-rocks shoulder muscles and the contours of his pecs outlined under the tank. As the car sped along the freeway, flashes of sunlight played over Mark's chiseled Nordic features. Pablo's hand rested lightly on the obvious boner in his jeans and Mark smiled to himself.

Suddenly Pablo broke the silence, saying abruptly, "I'm not gonna have sex with you. No way."

"Good," Mark retorted, "`cause I have no intention of having sex with you. That's why I booked a room with two king-size beds. As Steve said, this is just a way of getting to know each other better. But there are a few ground rules. First of all you will call me sir at all times. Second, no attitude. Let's just relax and try to make this as pleasant as possible."

"Yes, sir," said Pablo, responding to the stem authoritarian tone in the cop's voice. After that Mark tried to break the ice by commenting on the driving of others on the freeway, which segued into stories from his life on the road as a cop. It was a monologue at first but Pablo was genuinely interested and slowly began asking questions. And by the time they pulled into the driveway of the Ritz-Carlton just over an hour later the tension had greatly diminished.

As the valet came to the car door Mark pulled on a loose shirt over his tank top. You have to wear a shirt in this place, kiddo," Mark said. "You'll do just fine in that Polo shirt. More than just fine, actually – just watch the heads turn." He was right. As the two of them strode over the marble floor of the lobby heads did turn at the sight of the tall Greek-God blond and the handsome dark haired young man beside him.

Pablo was impressed by their luxurious bedroom with its expansive view of the ocean from the cliff top where the hotel was situated. Tell the truth he was in awe and a bit uncertain but Mark put him at his ease and they took a shower – Pablo first, then Mark, though Pablo noted that the shower was way big enough for two.

While Mark showered Pablo got dressed. The twins had helped him pack clothes suitable for a five-star hotel and, as he looked at himself in the mirror in his neat slacks, his white open-neck dress shirt and tan jacket, Pablo liked what he saw – a far cry from the grubby young mechanic who usually stared back at him. Then, in the corner of the mirror he caught sight of Mark coming from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Pretending to admire himself he glanced at the muscular cop as he unwrapped the towel and dried off, his muscles rippling in the sunlight streaming through the window, his long cock hanging from a mass of blond pubic hair and swinging between his thighs. He realized that watching a man dress was almost as sexy as watching him undress and, when he turned back to his own reflection he saw that his tent-pole cock spoiled the line of his smart pants.

By the time they were seated in the opulent dining room and Mark was helping Pablo find his way through the menu the last shards of ice had melted and Pablo was really getting into the fantasy of rich boy seated with the most handsome man in the room.

The servers, young men and women who looked as if they had been hired for their good looks, all flirted with them in the subtle way they had perfected befitting a five-star hotel. And when they turned to Pablo and asked respectfully, "And for you sir...?" he acted as if to the manner born. "See?" Mark grinned. "You don't have to be shirtless and swinging your fists for people to call you sir, and mean it."

Pablo laughed and from then on the conversation flowed. Mark steered it toward cars and motor cycles as he knew that auto mechanics was the boy's passion, and he had even worked for a while as a junior mechanic in the Police Department motor pool.

Pablo launched into enthusiastic advice for the care and maintenance of everything from Mark's motorcycle to trucks and the heavy equipment on the construction site. Mark was seeing a whole new side of Pablo – confident, self-assured in his expertise, quite the opposite from the insecurity that made him become the chest-thumping `senior boy' who usually faced the world.

They drank copious amounts of wine and after-dinner drinks and when at last they got back to their room they were feeling quite mellow. "Hey, check this out," Mark said, and Pablo followed him out onto the balcony. A full moon gleamed above the horizon, sending a carpet of rippling silver across the sea toward them, almost up to their room as it seemed. "That something, eh, kiddo?"

"Yes, sir," Pablo said. "Almost feel as if I could slide right down that moonlight and splash in the ocean." Mark turned and smiled at Pablo's unexpectedly poetic turn of phrase. Pablo looked round and gasped at the glorious face lit by the silver light, square-jawed, high cheekbones, a tangle of blond hair falling over his brow above the smiling blue-gray eyes.

Pablo was about to reach up and touch the face but at that moment Mark said, "Dunno about you, man, but I'm bushed – ready to hit the sack." They walked back into the room. "Which bed you want, kiddo? Mind if I take the one next to the window?"

"Sure, fine, sir," Pablo said, feeling a sense of disappointment that he immediately suppressed. He undressed and quickly slid under the sheets to hide the erection that, he now realized, he had had all evening. Surreptitiously he watched Mark get ready for bed.

Mark was gazing out of the window, and he stretched and yawned. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, his bare torso gleaming in the silver light as he stretched again. He kicked off his loafers, unbuttoned his slacks and took them off, folding them neatly over the back of a chair. Finally he dropped his boxers, stepped out of them and walked toward his bed. Backlit by moonlight Mark's naked body seemed to shimmer, surrounded by a halo. Pablo understood now why guys often referred to him as a god.

With a deep, satisfied sigh Mark climbed into bed and lay on his back, pulling the sheets up only far enough to cover his dick, leaving exposed his pubic hair, narrow waist, ripped abs and the slabs of his chest. He threw his arms above him on the bed, sighed, closed his eyes, and soon his breathing became steady.

Coming out of a trance Pablo shook his head and realized he had been gazing at the spectacular man, drooling even, and he felt pre-cum oozing out of his cock. Damn, he thought. He turned onto his other side, his jaw clenched, fist pounding his pillow. Damn, he had to sleep.

But a clenched jaw and tight fists are hardly conducive to sleep and he lay wide awake. He tossed from one position to another but nothing helped and he found himself inevitably on his side gazing at the other bed and the magnificent man lying on it, lit by the glow of moonlight. Mesmerized he watched him stir, watched him sigh and his muscles ripple until he subsided again into sleep.

Suddenly Pablo was transported back to a scene from his earliest childhood, one of those memory flashes that rise up unbidden from a long forgotten past. He was a small child, still living with his parents ... and he couldn't sleep. He was working too hard at it, trying to understand how a person could suddenly lose consciousness just like that. He couldn't work it out and he was scared that he'd never be able to sleep again. So he got out of bed, tiptoed into his parents' room and tugged at the bed sheets.

"Mom," he had said plaintively, "I can't sleep. Can I get in bed with you?" He remembered her smiling, opening the covers, and he crawled in beside her.

Now he was that child again, standing by Mark's bed, staring down at him. He tugged at the pillow until Mark stirred. "Sir, I can't sleep. Can I get in bed with you?"

Mark half opened his eyes and smiled. "Sure, kiddo ... `course you can." He held up the sheets and Pablo crawled in beside him. The boy moaned contentedly, a stray animal safe at home. He felt the warm flesh of Mark's back pressing against him and as he finally drifted toward sleep he murmured, "But I'm not gonna have sex with you. No way."

"Of course you're not. And I told you to call me sir."

"Sorry, sir," Pablo smiled and wrapped his arms round him.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 252

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 urge you to visit my Web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. You can read the whole story, all the many chapters, with extras, including pictures and biographies of all the characters and some other great artwork. Click on the `Our Story' tab to read the current chapter, or click on the green button to browse all the chapter synopses. Enjoy!