A TRIAL OF STRENGTH – PART 508 By Rob Williams
Chapter 508 – "THE RAGING GYPSY'S PENANCE"
IN THIS CHAPTER:
The macho Marine Hassan has humiliated Pablo, the son of boss Randy who seeks revenge. Obeying the rule a-boy-for-a boy, the soldier, bound shirtless, is forced to watch his boy Eddie get butt-fucked by the swarthy gypsy. Later work stress makes a raging Randy insult the young redheaded chef Will. After a self-imposed penance of hard manual labor, Randy uses his sexual magnetism to win back the boy's love. ___________________________________________________________________
IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Pablo, the son of boss Randy, was in trouble. The hot young Mestizo mechanic, in a rage, had abused and hit his own boy Tyler, the boy who worshipped him.
Tyler was one of the tribe's two gardeners (the other being his pal Finn) and when he was alone in the garden he had seen the ruggedly handsome Marine Captain Hassan sunning himself. Hassan was horny, so was Tyler, so the boy gave Hassan a blowjob.
Pablo had stumbled upon them doing the deed and hit the roof. He attacked Hassan but the tough battle-hardened Marine quickly got the better of Pablo who ended up on his back with Hassan's boot on his chest pinning him to the ground.
Hassan growled, "Don't ever mess with a Marine, boy, `cos you ain't got what it takes. Dammit, you know as well as I do what Tyler and me did out here was harmless. It's just that fucking rage that flares up in you, just like your dad Randy."
Pablo's rage was inflamed by his defeat by the soldier and he took it out on his boy, slapping Tyler's face and threatening him with his belt. The terrified Tyler ran off and took refuge at the house of the tribe's therapist Doctor Steve who explained to him that Pablo exhibited the well-known classic cycle of abuse, regret and reconciliation, repeated over and over.
But this time there we signs that things might be different. Pablo said, "I wanna break that cycle – me losing my temper and lashing out, begging to be forgiven, and swearing it'll never happen again – until it does. I'm ashamed of myself making that sweet kid cry, making him scared of me" So he sought help from Dr. Steve. In an intense therapy session the doc used extreme methods to bring Pablo to a pitch of anger where he finally admitted the truth – it was fear that made him react so violently, fear of losing his boy.
Steve said. "Pablo, we had to get right down to the root of your problem, to hit rock bottom. That meant tearing you down, making you scream, curse and sob – what we call a catharsis. Now we've done that we have to build you up. It'll take a while, you have to take it step by step. The first step is to convince Tyler that he was in no way to blame for what happened. He needs more reassurance than just your words. Hell, you don't need me to draw you a picture. You love the kid – you know what to do."
Pablo went to the nervous boy and said, "Kid, I don't want you ever to be frightened of me again. We love each other and that's not how a man behaves to a boy he loves. I've been a damn hotheaded fool. All this is my fault – you are not to blame in any way. It's real important for you to believe that and I want to try and prove it to you."
He made tender love to the ecstatic boy in a long session that ended in simultaneous orgasms. When it was over they smiled at each other, then laughed with the joy of knowing they had entered a new chapter in their lives. Tyler lay in Pablo's arms feeling safer and more secure than he had ever felt in his life.
They could have stayed like that all day, but eventually, reluctantly, Pablo said, "I gotta get off to work, kiddo. My dad Randy will be wondering where I got to after my shrink session."
But in fact Pablo was wrong. Randy was not at the construction site. He had taken time off work to pay a visit.
In the house across the street from the tribe's compound another man had just got off work too, still wearing military fatigues and a sleeveless denim shirt hanging open over his brawny chest. When Randy burst in the Marine Captain looked up and smiled. "Ah Randy, I've been expecting you. What took you so long? You got something to say to me about me and Pablo? OK, let's have it, man."
========= CHAPTER 508 =========
<><> THE GYPSY CONFRONTS THE MARINE <><>
They stared at each other, the Marine Captain and the gypsy construction boss, like two powerful alpha males sizing each other up before a fight.
"You knew I had to come, man," Randy said.
Hassan smiled casually. "Let's see ... payback time? Revenge for letting Tyler suck my dick? Knock-down-drag-out fight? All of the above?"
"Fuck you, man – being a smartass about stuff like this."
"No, Randy, just giving it the level of importance it deserves. You know as well as I do that Tyler broke no rules. Hell you made the rule yourself that it's OK for guys to fool around with each other provided they keep it in the tribe."
"Shit, this is not about the kid. That's between him and Pablo, he took care of that."
"So I heard – by slapping his boy around. That took care of it alright."
"He's getting help for that from a shrink, man. You know damn well that's not why I'm here. You hurt my boy, soldier, and I can't let that slide."
"Ah, you mean `cos I beat your boy in a fight, that's what's got you all riled up. Wasn't much of a fight anyway. I restrained him, put a hammerlock on him and gut-punched him until he was winded and fell to the ground. I pressed my boot on his chest and he was finished."
"You must've fought dirty. My boy could a' taken you – I should know, I trained him."
Randy old buddy, I have no doubt your kid is a great fighter. But I didn't win that fight – Pablo lost it. Matter of fact it's because he lost it – as in got angry – that he got beat. One thing we train our marine rookies, never let your anger take over. You lose your cool, you lose the battle. Pablo was so raving mad he just whaled away at me with those double forearm smashes he's so proud off and left himself open to my hammerlock that he couldn't get out of."
"That's bullshit. It's always rage that makes me fight – and I always win."
"Randy, my man, you're in a class all your own. You're a born fighter – you could drop a man with one hand tied behind your back. Which, I suppose, is why you came here, to beat me up in a grudge match."
Hassan grinned and shouted, "Hey Eddie. I know you're listening at the door. Get that cute ass in here."
The door opened and his boy Eddie came in with a guilty grin. "Just checking to make sure you were OK, sir."
"And if I wasn't OK you would have burst in and beat Randy up?"
"Well, not exactly, sir, I ..."
"Kid, cut the crap and go get a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. My buddy here needs a drink."
Randy was knocked off balance. He had expected to find an aggressive Marine ready for a fight, so he didn't know how to deal with Hassan's lighthearted treatment of the affair. Hassan was sprawled languidly on a couch so Randy, at a loss of what else to do, sat facing him, perched on the edge of a chair.
"Relax, Randy. Sit back and chill. Ah, here come the drinks." Eddie put two glasses on the low table between the two men and poured the Scotch. Then he stood uncertainly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "Er, like, do you want me to leave, sir?"
"Nah, kiddo, stick around. We might need someone to referee. But no talking!"
"I can do that, sir." Eddie ran his fingertips across his lips and twisted them at the corner like a key – his usual sign he was holding his tongue – at least for the next few seconds. He stepped into the background while Hassan raised his glass to Randy.
"Dude, we don't have to fight over small stuff like this. That would be dumb and only escalate things."
Randy shifted back in his chair a bit and downed his Scotch. "But I can't let it go, man. Dammit you beat my boy, humiliated him while guys watched from upstairs windows. I just can't let it go, dude. I gotta avenge my boy."
"Well, I ain't in the mood for one of those no-holds-barred dogfights we've had before. We usually beat each other to a draw anyway and that solves nothing."
There was a moment of silence as they both gulped down another Scotch. Randy had always liked and admired the tough, macho Marine, and his quiet authority now was starting to lessen his appetite for the fight he had come for.
In the background Eddie tensed with excitement watching the unfolding drama. He was straining to make a suggestion but managed, with great difficulty, to keep his mouth shut. He left it to his master to come up with a solution.
"Tell you what, dude. It don't have to be a full-on brawl. But as you want to fight me, how about we arm-wrestle?"
"Well ... yeah, I guess. Just so long as I teach you not to mess with my boy. OK, set it up."
Eddie sprang into action. He pulled two chairs up to a small table, spread a thick cloth on it and invited the men to take their seats. They sat facing each other and planted their elbows on the table. They locked hands – and locked eyes.
Eddie was mesmerized by the ultimate fantasy of the swarthy Arab Marine and the blue-eyed, gypsy construction boss staring at each other, psyching each other out. Their muscles flexed in their bare arms – Hassan in his sleeveless open denim shirt, and Randy in the old tank top he wore at work
"OK, Eddie. Give us the count."
Thrilled to even be a part of this Eddie's eyes sparkled as he said dramatically. "On a count of three, gentlemen. One ... two ... three!" The contestants instantly took the strain, their forearms biceps and pecs flexing hard as they stared with increasing intensity into each other's eyes.
For a while nothing moved. The two alpha males equally matched in strength, there was only the blink of an eye and a shiver of flesh as their veins bulged. Eddie's eyes went from the Arab soldier's exotic high-cheeked features, to the gypsy's virile, stubbled face, his hypnotic blue eyes boring into the dark deep-set eyes of the Marine.
As the seconds ticked by it was a stand-off – two unstoppable forces meeting two immovable objects. Occasionally their locked arms moved an inch to one side or the other only to be forced back to the upright position. Beads of sweat formed on both their faces and ran down their cheeks, their bulging arms also gleaming with sweat.
As the seconds became minutes their equal physical strength was a given, so it became a contest of wills and their intense gazes battled for supremacy, willing the other to submit. Four minutes into the contest Hassan's eyes flinched under the hypnotic gaze of the steel-blue eyes and his arm was forced back to inches above the table.
But a smile crossed his smile as he growled, "I don't think so, buddy." Veins bulged in his bicep as he pushed back, forcing Randy's arm back almost to the table. Randy groaned, "Fuck you, soldier." And in an instant their arms were upright, back to the start position.
The smile stayed on Hassan's face and was soon matched by a faint grin on Randy's that got broader and broader. Another minute went by before their smiles grew until they burst out laughing and, in unspoken agreement, gave up the struggle. Their arms relaxed, they shook hands across the table and Eddie shouted, "It's a draw! No winner, no loser – a draw."
<><> THE SOLDIER SUBMITS <><>
"Fuck," Randy grinned, "we could a' been here all day sweating like pigs and nothing would change. "Gotta hand it to you, captain, you are one tough son-of-a-bitch."
"Back at ya, stud," Hassan smiled. "But a draw don't quench your thirst for revenge. This is where a bit of Marine strategy comes in. When we have to put on a show of retaliation against an enemy we have ways of doing it that limit the actual damage so we don't escalate the cycle of punishment and retribution.
"Sounds complicated." Randy said. "What you got in mind, soldier?"
Out of the corner of his eye Hassan saw his boy Eddie tense with excitement and anticipation. He knew his boy so well he could guess what he was hoping for.
"So, Randy, there's something I've often heard you say – let the punishment fit the crime. OK, let's break this down. The crime in question, according to you, is that I manhandled your boy and forced him to the ground. Well, there's another old saying – an eye for an eye and a boy for a boy. I subdued your boy – you do the same with mine. Shouldn't be that hard – Eddie don't have no moves like your boy's double forearm smash that he tried on me."
Hassan cast another quick glance at Eddie's shining eyes. "So here's the deal. I lend you my boy for half an hour and you do what you like with him. There's nothing more humiliating than a dominant stud like me being forced to watch his own boy get worked over by a rival."
"Hmm," Randy said, "sounds like a plan – on one condition. You say forced to watch, but how do I know you won't get so mad you do that Marine thing of coming to the rescue. Only one way to prevent that. Deal?"
"It's a deal."
Eddie watched spellbound as Randy got to work and a few minutes later he gasped at the pornographic sight before him. Hassan was sitting in the same wooden chair as before, only this time he was stripped to the waist in military fatigue pants and combat boots. His arms rested on the armrests and his wrists were tied to it, as were his ankles to the chair legs.
Randy pulled off his tank top so both men were shirtless, the bound soldier and the dark menacing gypsy towering over him.
Eddie was trembling with excitement (but definitely not fear) when Randy said, "Get over here, boy. You're mine now, I own that ass and there's nothing your big tough captain can do about it. Look at him. He'll suffer the agony of watching me hammer your ass for what he did to my boy. You get it?"
"Ye ... yes, sir." Eddie feigned fear but all three of them knew he was thrilled at the prospect. "Strip naked, boy."
Eddie hesitated (for effect) then obeyed and stood before the gypsy naked. On the floor, boy, hands and knees."
Eddie dropped to the floor as ordered facing the captive Marine, his ass pointing up at the construction boss who was pulling his huge cock out of his pants. "See this rod, boy? You know where it's going?"
Eddie looked back over his shoulder. "In my butt, sir?"
"Damn right. Your master's gonna watch helplessly while I pound his boy's ass." Randy spat on his cock, then in the palm of his hand and lubed his cock. He knelt behind Eddie's butt and grabbed his hips. "Get a good look, soldier,' he taunted as he drove his shaft into the boy's ass.
Eddie gasped, but this was not one of Randy's savage punishment fucks. He had fucked the boy before (Randy had fucked everyone) and knew his limits. Even so, Hassan flinched and struggled against the ropes binding him to the chair. He had engineered this as a way for Randy to get revenge, knowing he would never really hurt his boy. But it was a shock to see the boy he loved and protected on his knees getting ploughed by the macho gypsy.
For a second he doubted the wisdom of what he had done, but when he saw the look of ecstasy in Eddie's eyes he knew his intuition had been right.
The paradox was that the very look of ecstasy was what hurt Hassan most. It was one thing to see his boy endure a butt-fuck by the boss, but to see him enjoying it so much gave him pangs of envy for the gypsy's sexual power. Did Randy thrill the boy even more than he himself did? He quickly dismissed that idea, but he found himself wanting this "punishment" to end soon.
Eddie winced with each thrust of Randy's long, thick cock but when Randy asked, "You feel that, boy? You like the boss's dick in your ass?" Eddie shouted "Sir, yes sir. Thank you sir," exactly the words and tone he used with Hassan when he was playing the rookie Marine recruit.
Hassan flinched and strained at the ropes. Eddie looked up at the homoerotic vision of the shirtless Arab soldier, his muscles flexing as he struggled to get free. Then he looked sideways at the wall mirror and he almost shot his load at the erotic spectacle of the construction boss's cock driving into his ass while the Marine captain watched and strained helplessly.
By now Hassan's attempts to get free were serious. One thing annoyed him above all others. He could cope with Randy fucking his boy and even with Eddie's obvious pleasure in it. But what he fought against was the bulge forming in his own pants. He tried to control his erection, but the sight of Randy fucking made it impossible.
Randy was never so glorious as when he was fucking. He knew he was a phenomenal fuck and the arrogance showed in his steel-blue eyes and on his square-cut features with the darkly stubble jaw, his shaggy black hair whipping over his face, muscles flexing as he pounded ass.
It was such a sexually charged image that Hassan desperately wanted to touch his own cock, even as he saw his boy being ramrodded by his rival. Reading his thoughts Randy taunted him. "Turns you on, solider, right? Watching me fuck your boy? Makes you wanna bust a load, eh? But you're helpless, man – as much at my mercy as if I beat you and made you crawl in defeat."
"Fuck you, man," Hassan growled.
"Your boy wants to spill his juice too. I'll show you." Randy fucked faster and deeper driving the boy wild. Eddie panted, "You're gonna make me cum, sir. I can't hold back ... I'm gonna cum ... No, sir!" Randy had stopped suddenly, bringing Eddie to the edge of orgasm but denying him at the last minute. "Sir, I wanna cum so bad. Please sir, cum inside me ... make me cum."
"OK, kid, you can do it when I see your captain bust his load looking at me. Crawl forward, boy." Eddie inched forward on his knees with Randy's rod still inside him until he was kneeling between Hassan's splayed and bound legs. He reached one hand up, ripped open the fatigue pants and his master's cock hit him in the face as it sprang free, hard as a rock. On all fours again Eddie opened his mouth wide and lowered it over the cock he had sucked so often.
Hassan gasped and Randy grinned, "Good boy, kid. Now we're both doing what we do best – me pounding ass, you sucking dick. As for you, soldier, you're gonna blast a load in your boy's mouth while you're looking at me. I can do that to a man – even to you, captain."
It was true – the mere sight of the magnificent gypsy as he fucked ass mesmerized Hassan. He knew he was beaten as he looked up at the rugged face, into the hypnotic blue eyes, and was drawn into the magnetism of Randy's intense sexuality against which there was no holding back. He could see his own reflection in the limpid blue pools, he was drowning in them. He struggled mightily to break free but his mind was bound as tight as his body and there was no escape, physically or sexually.
The deep seductive voice said, "That's it, man, you're mine. You and your boy are mine. Make him cum, kid. Make that gorgeous Marine fill your mouth with his juice while he watches me blast my jizz in his boy's ass."
The helpless Marine howled, "Fuck you man ... fuck you. I'm gonna shoot ... I'm gonna shoot ... fuck ... fuuuck!" His bound body strained against the ropes as he poured semen in the mouth of his boy who expertly gulped down every drop.
"Your turn now, boy," Randy ordered. "He pulled his cock all the way back and drove it in hard and deep. "This is it, soldier. I'm gonna cum in your boy's ass ... yeaahh!" His cock erupted inside the boy who yelled into the gag of his master's still-pulsing cock. Eddie jerked his own cock to a climax that spurted steams of semen splashing on the floor beneath him.
Still staring into Randy's eyes Hassan smiled, "Fuck you, man. You win every time don't you?"
"Pretty much, dude. And it don't always take fists. My cock's a weapon too."
"And those fucking eyes ... everything. You're one goddam son-of-a-bitch."
"Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment, soldier."
<><> "I Got Your Back, Man" <><>
Randy pulled slowly out of Eddie, who stood up groggily while Randy untied Hassan. Eddie grabbed his clothes and asked Hassan, "Is it OK if I go help the boys, sir, they might need me?"
"Sure, kiddo," Hassan smiled, knowing Eddie was dying to tell his story. "And, er, thanks for refereeing, kid."
"Glad to help, sir." He glanced at Randy. "And thank you too, sir." He dressed hurriedly and beat a hasty retreat. Hassan grinned at Randy. "So, we quits now, big guy?"
"Sure we are. You were right when you said you and me should never fight, we're too much alike. And that kid of yours – wow. You've trained him well and he obviously worships you."
"Thanks for saying that, man. And I can tell you just what he's doing right now. He's gathered the boys together, he's holding up his palms, fingers spread, eyes wide, and saying dramatically, "Dudes, you...will...not...believe ..."
Randy laughed, but then turned serious. "Hey I gotta get back to work. I shouldn't have left to come here `cos we're running late on a real important project. You know I run the division that handles government projects and the current job is crucial for future business from the City. The deadline is three days from now and it looks like we might miss it. Late delivery of parts slowed us down, really pissed me off."
"And I bet that's not a pretty sight," Hassan grinned. "Well good luck with it, Randy. Anything I can do just say the word `cos I got your back, man."
They shook hands with a last lingering look and Randy strode quickly away.
<><> BOB TONGUE-LASHES RANDY <><>
To describe Randy as pissed off was a huge understatement. He prided himself on bringing in jobs on or before the deadline and this time it was even more important. The government projects division was already a big money-maker and if the City inspectors approved of this one future business was assured.
As he drove back to the site he cursed himself for taking time out to square things with Hassan. I let my damn anger and pride take over, he thought to himself, so his frustration was even more pronounced as he got back to work. His temper didn't improve when his foreman Darius announced that the final supplies they had ordered wouldn't be there until tomorrow. He hit the roof and Darius kept out of his way for the rest of the day.
Randy got home late in a foul mood and Bob did his best to help him calm down but he knew that his tension was building worse than he had seen it for a long time. The next morning was no better as he stormed off to work to whip the crew into shape. As the day progressed his bad mood became contagious, infecting the whole crew, so under all the pressure mistakes were made that only worsened the situation.
Nothing seemed to go right. Even the lunch break was late as the young chef Will was delayed bringing the packed lunches for the crew. When he finally arrived he said to Randy, "Sir, I'm sorry for the delay, but one of the kitchen stoves was ..."
"Don't give me any of your dumb excuses, boy. I've been hearing excuses all day. Just leave the damn food and make sure you're on time in future."
Will was stunned by the force of Randy's rebuke but he stood his ground. "Sir, the twins had reported several times that the second stove needed repairs but ..."
"You blaming me for this, boy? You tell the fucking twins from me to get their fucking act together OK? Now get out of here."
Will stumbled away blinking back tears. He knew that Randy was under a lot of pressure so he tried not to take it personally, but...
Randy and the crew worked late and they made some progress but the project was still touch and go. When he at last got home he saw the lights were still on in the office as Brandon and Ryan were working late, trying to speed things up wherever possible. He went in and reamed them about the late delivery of the parts.
"Sir," Brandon said, "we did what we could with the supplier but sometimes we have no control over ..."
"And you, kid," Randy barked at Ryan. "Seems those fancy computer programs of yours don't work so good, eh? They were supposed to eliminate delays like this. Maybe you should redo the damn things."
He stormed out without waiting for a reply, leaving the two hurt boys to look fearfully at each other. Brandon instantly called the twins to warn them that Randy was in a hell of a mood, and told them what had just happened.
The twins naturally told Bob who replied, "I'm sorry about that, guys. I'll talk to Brandon and Ryan later and apologize to them. Meanwhile, Randy and I will eat dinner in our house. He's in no mood to be with the rest of the crowd at dinner."
Bob had also heard of the way Randy had spoken to Will at lunchtime and he was determined to reprimand him. But when Randy stormed in, still in a towering rage, Bob knew from bitter experience it was best to let the savage gypsy calm down before criticizing his behavior. Randy had a quick shower which Bob hoped would cool him off.
But no such luck. When he reappeared it was clear he was still seething about everything and everyone and Bob knew that silence was the best thing. A wrong word could set him off and that's the last thing Bob wanted.
Randy poured himself a Scotch and slumped down at the table without making eye contact with his lover. In a few minutes there was a tap at the door and Will came in with a big heavy tray that he set down on a side table. "I cooked it myself, sirs," Will said shyly, hoping to mollify Randy. "Quiche to start, then honey garlic salmon with a few new herbs and spices thrown in and asparagus spears. Then, for dessert, my rhubarb pie, `cos I know it's your favorite, sir."
Somehow that was the last straw for a meat-and-potatoes man who saw all this almost as an affront to his masculinity. "We don't need all your fancy shmancy `herbs-and-spices-thrown-in' bullshit, kid. Maybe if you cut out all this gourmet food crap you'd get the lunches done on time. Well-done steak suits me fine, so forget all the fancy stuff that no one wants anyway."
Bob looked shocked and tears sprang to Will's eyes. Stunned, he choked and stammered, "OK, sir ... OK ..." and he turned and stumbled from the room.
Bob glared at Randy and slammed his hands down on the table. "OK, Randy, that does it. You just insulted and belittled that sweet boy where it hurts most – his pride as a chef. Maybe it's all bullshit to you, as you call it, but let me remind you that your construction projects are a point of pride to you, just as Will's cuisine skills are to him."
Randy merely grunted sullenly. "Randy, I understand the pressure you're under at work and the frustration you feel when things go wrong. But there is absolutely no excuse for taking it out on the boys. You reamed Brandon and Ryan in the office and now you have just torn to shreds all of Will's pride and self-esteem. You're like a schoolyard bully, beating up on the boys least able to defend themselves.
"If you wanna take your anger out on anyone choose me. God knows I'm used to that. I thought you were supposed to be a champion of the boys, loving and protecting them, but maybe I've seen the real you, where these wonderful kids who work hard to support us become disposable when the going gets rough – just so much garbage that can be torn up and tossed aside.
"Dammit, man, how long do we have to put up with your tantrums where everything good gets steamrollered flat under the weight of your rage? We just went through this with your boy Pablo who at least had the decency to admit his irrational anger and get psychological help from your brother Steve. When Pablo stood up to you, you thought he was rejecting you. Well maybe he should, maybe he will when he sees your true colors.
"As for Will, I happen to know the boy looks on you as his hero. Well that glowing image just crashed and burned thanks to your uncontrollable rage. How are you gonna face him, eh?"
"Ah," Randy growled morosely, "he'll get over it. If you find me so evil just leave me alone."
"A suggestion I am happy to accept, Randy. I cannot eat with you or sleep with you. I'm gonna spend the night in the guestroom and let you stew in your own toxic juices."
Bob stood up and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
<><> BOB REFLECTS <><>
In the guestroom Bob had to stand still and breathe deeply for a while until his anger subsided. When it did it was replaced by disappointment and something close to despair. For too long he had lived with Randy's irrational bursts of anger where anyone standing in the way became collateral damage – even a sweet, loving boy like Will.
The thing was that Randy loved Will, he was one of his favorites. He had always been kind and protective to the boy – Bob loved to watch them together, the hero and the kid who idolized him. So how could Randy treat him like this – how could he? It was a kind of mental illness, a disorder at least, one that he had passed on to his boy Pablo.
But recently Pablo had seen the light. He had recognized the danger of his anger, how it could seriously harm someone if left unchecked. He had realized that becoming a carbon copy of his dad Randy was harmful to him – it distorted who he really was. So he had sought help from Dr. Steve and was working hard to reconcile with his boy Tyler.
Dr. Steve had coached Pablo into a catharsis where he at last realized that his anger was based on fear and insecurity – the fear of losing someone or something precious. And so it was with Randy. The most obvious manifestation of that was how he had mistreated Bob, especially in the early years, because the intense new love he felt for Bob scared him and he was terrified of losing him.
This latest outburst was based on something far less important – simply the fear of failing at work, not delivering the project on time and losing future contracts. But even that Bob understood. Randy lived on an intense level, which showed itself in his work. He was proud of what he had achieved – it was, in a sense, part of his masculinity, a desire to win – always.
Sometimes he fought with his fists and other times he fought with his steely determination and hard manual work. Failure was not an option, even the failure of missing a deadline. In these circumstances he went on autopilot, crashing through all obstacles, even if it meant hurting people along the way, even people he loved – like Will.
As Bob reflected on all these things his anger turned to sympathy. He loved Randy – man, how he loved him. He was larger than life, a great lover, a highly respected manager of people and protector of boys – except when he abused them.
Had Bob been unfair to him just now, he wondered? No, someone had to confront him, even yell at him about his unacceptable behavior. And who was there to do this, but himself? And also Uncle Mike, Bob grinned to himself. Mike was like a father figure to Randy and even called him boy, something no one else did. Bob remembered the early days when Randy had behaved badly at Mike's Palm Springs home and Mike had angrily ordered him out of the house.
Then a warm feeling came over Bob when he remembered the sequel. When Randy calmed down and realized what he had done, to a man he loved and respected as a son respects a father, he had driven all the way back to Palm Springs and apologized the only way he knew how. Mike had woken up in the morning and seen Randy single-handedly building a fence that Mike needed – a job for two or three men that Randy was handling on his own. Hard manual work was where Randy sought solace – his way of apologizing and seeking forgiveness.
Again his intense love for the man swept over Bob and he wondered what Randy was feeling all alone in his room. Probably lonely and scared – that old fear of losing him. He had to go to him – at least to reassure Randy that he still loved him, even if this time it was hard to forgive him.
Wearing jeans, loafers and a white V-neck T-shirt as always Bob walked quietly to the master bedroom they shared and paused outside the door. If Randy was asleep the last thing Bob wanted was to wake him. So he gingerly opened the door a crack and peered inside.
Randy was not there. The bed had not been slept in. He had left.
Bob remembered to the story of Randy and Mike, and he suddenly knew without any doubt where Randy had gone.
<><> "GOOD, AIN'T IT, SIR?" <><>
Bob drove to the construction site and was hardly surprised to see that some of the floodlights had been turned on. He went inside and watched from the shadows just inside the gate.
Randy was there, of course, working alone, shirtless in his grubby work pants and boots. Bob knew that the actual building was virtually complete except for a few cosmetic touches, but the parking lot was a mess. It was paved but the concrete wheel-stops had not been placed yet and were still heaped in a pile.
There was trash all over the place and that's what Randy concentrated on now, heaving planks and bricks onto the back of a truck, then manhandling the wheel-stops into place on the ground he had cleared, to be secured tomorrow. All alone on the deserted site Randy worked tirelessly, his face set in intense concentration, his muscles straining and rippling under the floodlights.
As he stood in the shadows and watched, tears came to Bob's eyes and flowed down his cheeks. God, he loved this man. His heart went out to the solitary gypsy, tackling the work of ten men. Once again he was combatting his fear and confusion in manual labor – his way of trying to expunge the guilt that he felt.
As so often before, Bob saw under Randy's tough exterior a small boy who knew he had messed up and was trying to say sorry to his family by doing chores. Bob had to help him, to protect him. He pulled out his cell-phone and made a few calls.
Nobody said no to Bob. It didn't take long before he heard a truck pull up outside. Zack walked in, had a quick word with Bob, then walked over to Randy and, without a word, got to work with him, helping him move the pile of rubble and the wheel-stops.
Next to arrive were Pablo and Darius who joined the two men. Hassan came, fulfilling his offer of help to Randy – "I got your back, man." Eddie came with him and quickly got right in the middle directing the foot traffic. Brandon and Ryan came carrying laptops and set up operations in the trailer office to document the ebb and flow of the various supplies, monitor the inventory and search for shortcuts in the work.
Someone turned on the rest of the floodlights as more men of the tribe arrived. A short while later another truck drew up and the twins and Will came in wheeling a cart stacked with food that was easy to eat on the run. They set up a table and spread the food out, then brought in 12-packs of beer and bottles of water. They even set aside a bottle of Scotch, Randy's preferred brand.
Bob had greeted them all as they arrived and now he watched glowing with pride at how the tribe rallied as one big family in support of their much-loved leader. At one point Randy paused in his work, looked over at Bob in the distance and pointed at him. Bob smiled and nodded and saw Randy wipe something from his eye with the back of his hand before getting back to work.
Bob walked over to the boys serving food and had a quick word with them before going into the trailer to check on the computer work the boys were doing. He was standing at the window when Eddie came in and stood beside him, watching the hive of activity with Randy towering over them all.
Eddie grinned, "Good, ain't it, sir?"
"Yes, Eddie. It's very good."
<><> SHOTS OF SCOTCH <><>
The group worked late into the night until the parking lot was cleared, swept and all the wheel-stops were in place to be secured to the ground later by the regular crew. The back of the work had been broken, the project was on track to be ready for the City inspectors the day after next.
Bob helped Brandon and Ryan close out the updated inventory and he thanked them as they took the laptops back to their car. The twins and Will packed up the remains of the food and wheeled it out, leaving behind them on a table the bottle of Scotch and two glasses.
The other men wordlessly shook hands with Randy, the look of deep gratitude in his blue eyes all the thanks they needed. Eddie did a final sweep of the remaining bits of dirt, then walked to the gate with Hassan's arm over his shoulder.
After everyone had left, Randy poured two glasses of Scotch and handed one to Bob. They clinked glasses and gulped the shots back with a satisfied sigh. Randy looked deep into Bob's eyes. "I don't know how to thank you, buddy. I don't deserve you. After the inspection is all over the first thing I'm gonna do is take a leaf out of Pablo's playbook and go see my brother Doc Steve for a therapy session – most likely the first of many."
Bob grinned. "Good, who says a father can't learn from the son, eh? That's all the thanks I need, Randy. Just so you know, I am so damn in love with you, you big savage."
"Er, when I get back to the house now I'm gonna look in on young Will. I think I should."
"Yes you should, Randy. He loves you too and he's probably still confused and hurt. Knowing that kid he'll still be awake prepping for tomorrow's breakfast."
They stared at each other, then Randy pulled Bob into a long passionate kiss. They walked off the site together, got into their vehicles and drove home.
<><> RANDY & WILL RECONCILE <><>
Bob had been right. Randy went first to the kitchen where Will was alone getting food ready for the usual buffet breakfast. His pug Norman was in his basket and growled uncertainly, then wagged his tail. Will flinched reflexively as Randy walked in. "What's this? Both of you scared of me? That's why I came to see you, Will, to try and make things right between us."
"Thank you, sir," Will said and managed a smile. "Actually I'm almost done here, just finished some of the prep that can be kept in the fridge until breakfast."
"Er would it be OK if I came up to your room for a while, kiddo? You got any brandy?"
Will's smile got broader. "Of course, sir. The best Rémy Martin Cognac that we keep just for you." He pulled out the bottle, gave two brandy glasses to Randy and they went upstairs with Norman trotting behind, happily wagging his tail now, taking his cue from Will.
Norman settled in his basket in Will's bedroom above the kitchen while Randy and Will sat on the couch and Will poured the brandy. They clinked glasses and Randy said, "Here's to us kiddo and to the way we were before I lost my mind and said those things to you."
"No worries, sir. I knew you were under a lot of pressure at work and were just letting off steam."
"Nah, but there's was no excuse for taking it out on you of all people, kid. Man, I was mean."
"You think after tonight you're on track to meet the deadline, sir?"
"Sure of it, kid. The pressure's off. But as we were sweeping up the debris I was wondering how I could clean up the debris I created by railing at you in that stupid way. See, I'm not too good with words, like Bob is, and I don't know how to ..."
"Sir, the twins are always telling me that actions speak louder than words, so does this help?" He bent close to Randy and kissed him, a real open-mouth kiss, tongues and all.
"Wow, it sure as hell does, kid." Randy ruffled Will's mop of red hair. "Listen, dude, I don't wanna push my luck but when I've messed up there's two ways I try to make amends. One is to do hard manual labor like you saw earlier tonight. The other – well, it always works with Bob – the other way is to make love. I can be pretty good at that. Do you think ...?"
"Yes I do, sir. The bed's right over there."
Randy had a feeling that Will was taking the lead here. The kid's decisiveness was one of the things that Randy admired and loved about him and he smiled as he watched Will determinedly take off his clothes and lie on his back on the bed. He propped himself on his elbows and grinned up at Randy. "Come on, sir, don't be shy."
Randy roared with laughter, "Damn, you don't mess around do you kid?" He kicked off his work boots, dropped his pants, then stroked his semi-hard cock into a full erection. "You want lube?"
"Not with you sir, `cos I know you won't hurt me."
"Even though I already did by yelling at you?"
"That's over and done, sir. You always say that when a guy messes up he makes amends, takes his punishment and the case is closed. This is you making amends, isn't it sir? We can forget the punishment bit."
"Fuck you, boy," Randy smiled, "who's calling the shots here?" He knelt on the bed and Will slid his heels back, the young chef offering his ass to the boss of the tribe. Randy pushed the head of his cock between his ass cheeks and smiled at the earnest, freckled face, eyes blinking behind his owl glasses. Gently Randy removed the glasses and put them on the nightstand. He bent down, kissed Will's eyes then pressed their mouths together in a tender, lingering kiss.
Will trembled with anticipation and jumped when he felt the boss's long shaft entering him. Randy pulled his face back. "Did I hurt you, kid? You tell me if I'm hurting you."
"You're not hurting me, sir, not at all. I love the feel of you inside me. Go ahead and fuck me, sir. I won't break."
"It would take a lot to break a young buck like you, Will. OK, you asked for it." Usually those words were a prelude to a ferocious Randy-fuck, but not this time. He pulled slowly back, then eased in again, gently, all the way down. He loved this loyal, loving young redhead like he was his own little brother, and he made love to his ass and to his eyes, his blue eyes soft and loving now, rather than their usual gimlet gaze that could pierce a man's soul.
"I love you, kiddo, really crazy about you. I hope I didn't fuck that up."
"You're still my hero, sir, if that's what you mean. And I love getting fucked by you."
Again Randy bent low and kissed Will, with the same tenderness that he made love to his ass. When the kissing stopped they gazed at each other and, like so many men and boys before him, Will saw his own reflection in the blue eyes, as if he and the handsome gypsy had entered the same magical world.
"You OK, Will?" Randy smiled.
"More than OK, sir. Feels like I'm in heaven. Only problem is when you look at me like that and fuck me like that I wanna cum so bad, but I don't want it to end."
"It don't have to end, Will. How about I stay the rest of the night with you and in the morning we'll make love again before you go back to that kitchen."
Will's eyes sparkled. "Does that mean I can cum now, sir?'
"Only if I can spill my load in your sweet ass," Randy smiled. "Here, maybe this'll do the trick." He wrapped his hand round Will's cock and stroked it slowly as his own cock massaged his ass.
"Oh sir, you know I can't survive that. I have to submit to you like everyone else does. Sounds so good to say `I surrender'. You're making me cum. I love you sir. Fuck me ... yeah, fuck me ... aaah." He sighed deeply as Randy pumped his cock and his own semen spurted over his lithe young body. Randy gazed down at the freckled face rolling from side to side in ecstasy and it was love, pure and simple, that made Randy pour jizz inside him.
Randy had a sensation that he really had begun the process of absolution for his earlier madness – by hard work surrounded by his buddies on the site, and now by making love to this magical boy. Love, when it was real, made everything come right.
<><> TRIBAL GOSSIP <><>
As Will lay in Randy's arms a few minutes later he said, "Sir, will you really stay here with me till morning? I would love that."
"Will, nothing would please me more than falling asleep with you in my arms. And this is only the beginning, kiddo. Like I told Bob, after the inspection of the project I'm gonna get into therapy with Doc Steve, just like my boy Pablo has done."
"That's a good idea, sir. Tyler told me Pablo has been a different guy after his shrink sessions with the doc."
"And there's another thing. All that bullshit I said about your cooking. From now on I want you to tell me all about what you're making, the ingredients and stuff. Educate me, I wanna learn. `Cos there's something I gotta be sure of Will. Are you happy with your life here with us? I mean, we're not working you too hard, are we?"
"I'm happier than ever been in my life sir. I love the twins and Bob and my dad Seth and my dog Norman over there ... and you, of course, sir. Feels like a family. As for working too hard that's not possible `cos I love being in the kitchen – it's my kingdom. And tomorrow I'm going up to the Grady House to help Danny in his kitchen to prepare for the big party."
"What big party?"
"Didn't you know, sir?
"Hell, I've been so engrossed in my work lately that I'm too tired for gossip when I get home late. So after I've made love to Bob I go right to sleep. So fill me in, kid."
Well, sir, you know Grady has been filming his Tarzan stuff in ... Costa ... somewhere ..."
"Costa Rica?"
"Yeah that's the one. Anyway, it seems he got injured at the end of the shoot doing some stunt in the jungle – not badly injured but enough to keep him off work for a week or two while they film scenes he's not in. He just got back home and Mario wants to throw a big party for him while he's resting up."
"Hmm, now I think of it, it's been a long time since we were all up in the Grady House."
"That's right, sir. It was even before Dr. Chad came here, and the joke is that the doc don't know anything about Grady – that he's this big movie star and stuff. Seems Chad is not a big movie fan so he's probably never seen one of Grady's."
"So he's in for a big surprise, eh kiddo, and we're in for a lot of fun. Grady is such a hunk and a great fuck so I could sure go a few more rounds with him. Anyway, that's all for later, kid, and in the meantime we've had ourselves our own little party here ain't we? But now you gotta sleep. And in the morning I'll wake you up in my own special way – and you know what that means."
"You know, sir? I'm kinda glad you yelled at me, `cos this has been great. Making up after a fight is always kinda special ain't it? Hmm ... you feel real good, sir." Will laid his head on the gypsy's hairy chest and he was asleep in seconds.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 509
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.
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