A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 93 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Lloyd's addiction therapy ... living with Steve but no sex. But even with his hands tied the sight of Steve is too much. "Lloyd's cock throbbed inside his briefs and exploded in them, spreading a huge stain over the gray fabric." After that things change. "They were drowning in each other's eyes. It was transcendent. They were in love." Later, Darius calls Randy. "Hey boss, that guy Hassan. He's back!"

As always, guys, I welcome your comments and suggestions. They can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me at rw6789@aol.com.

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A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - Chapter 93 – "Steve & Lloyd"

"Hell, I can't stop thinking about him, sir."

Darius and Randy were on a break from work, sipping beer in the trailer on the construction site.

"Thinking about who?" Randy asked.

"Guy I ran into at the gym today. He was totally fucking gorgeous ... foreign looking, dark skinned, black hair, stunning face ... awesome bod. They don't come along like that too often. He was real friendly too. Spoke with some kind of accent. Asked all kinds of questions."

Randy frowned. "What about?"

"Oh, I dunno ... me ... where I live, who I live with. Funny, though, now I think of it. He seemed to know I lived in the same house as a cop. Don't ask me how he knew that."

Randy felt his skin prickle and he clenched his fists. "Did the guy tell you his name?"

"Yeah, but I forget. You know how I am with names. Hell I'd forget my own name if it wasn't tattooed on my ... "

"Darius!" Randy grabbed his face. "Think, punk, think. What the fuck was his name?"

Surprised by Randy's rough tone of voice Darius frowned and made an effort. "I dunno ... He did tell me. Weird name ... kinda foreign." He screwed up his face, and then light dawned.

"I got it," he said cheerfully. "Hassan. That was his name ... Hassan!"

Randy leapt to his feet and paced round the small office, a grim look on his face. "Has to be him," he muttered to himself. "Has to be."

Still vivid in his mind was Mark's graphic story that Bob had repeated to Randy barely more than two weeks earlier. When he was a young soldier in the Middle East Mark had been captured and interrogated by the enemy. He had been brutally tortured, physically and sexually, by a guard whose stunning beauty Mark had described in detail ... "about the same age as me, muscular, dark, exotic features, high cheek bones, slanted dark eyes and jet black hair."

Having been abused and degraded Mark had managed to overpower Hassan, whose last desperate words as Mark escaped had been, "I must see you again, Mark. I swear, I will come to your country and find you." Looked like he had kept his promise. And, coincidentally, just a few weeks after Mark had unlocked his memory and told his story to Bob.

Randy stopped pacing and sat facing Darius. "Now listen, kid. Tell me everything this guy told you."

Darius was stunned that his chance remark had such a riveting effect on Randy. "Well, I don't remember much. Hell," Darius grinned, "he was so damn gorgeous I was concentrating on his body and that face. Wasn't really listening to what he said."

"Darius!" This time Randy grabbed the boy's face in both hands. "This is serious. No time for your sexual fantasies. You say he asked about where you lived and mentioned a cop. Did he say his name?"

Darius screwed up his face again with the effort of remembering. "No ...I don't think so. But, that's right, he kinda smiled when I mentioned Mark's name. But hey boss, it's no sweat. He's probably on his way out of town by now. Said he had to go back to ... Washington, I think ... some government job. But I think he liked me, `cause he said he'd look me up at the gym when he got back in a few weeks."

"Nothing else?"

"Nope. Like I said, boss, I wasn't really listening to what he said."

"Now listen, punk. Not a word about this to anyone ... Pablo, Zack, Jamie, anyone ... especially not Jamie. And the minute you see the guy again you call me on my cell. If you tell a soul I'll fuck your ass so hard you'll ..." He caught Darius's smile and realized what he was saying. "OK, so that's not much of a threat for you. Never mind ... get back to work."

Darius, Pablo and the twins had never been told Mark's story so Darius left the trailer shaking his head, mystified what all the fuss had been about.

Left alone, Randy remembered his own words when Bob had told him Mark's story. "Shit damn ... if I ever got my hands on that fucking sadist he'd find out what torture really is." And he meant it. Right now Randy needed a level head ... he had to speak to Bob.

He got home early and found Bob working in his upstairs office. One look at Randy was enough. "Something's up," Bob said.

"You bet it is, Randy said, and blurted out the whole story as Bob listened calmly. "Jesus," Bob said. "What do you intend to do?"

"I've been thinking about that. There's really nothing anyone can do unless the guy shows up again ... if he ever does."

"Oh, he'll show up alright. But I agree, and in the meantime there's no point right now in telling anyone else about this ... especially not Mark. I'll never forget how haunted he looked as he told his story. It was a kind of catharsis for him and now he's locked it away and is getting on with his life with Jamie. I wouldn't want to bring it all back up so soon."

"Right," Randy agreed. "In any case, when the son-of-a-bitch does show up I get to see him first. I have a score to settle with the sadistic prick and it won't be pretty. Nobody tortures one of my buddies like that without answering to me. They mess with any of my guys and they mess with me."

Bob grinned. "Seems Steve was right when he called you The King of the Gypsies. Always the lord and protector of the tribe. Who appointed you the big boss, anyway?"

"Nobody," Randy growled. "I just am. Always have been. Hell, none of you guys would do what I have in mind. Mark's a cop ... goes by the book and avoids violence. Zack would probably say that the asshole was following military orders. And you know how you are ... you'd probably invite the guy for afternoon tea to talk things over.

Bob laughed. "Well, one thing's for sure. I wouldn't want to be Hassan when he comes face to face with you. As you said, not pretty. A couple of weeks, he told Darius? Guess we'll just have to wait."

There was a silence and Bob got a couple of cold beers from the small fridge in his office. As they drank, lost in thought, Bob suddenly brightened and said, "On a lighter note, talking of Steve, what do you think of his plan for Lloyd?"

Randy grinned. "Might just be the making of the guy. And for once I agree with Darius. I wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall of that house for the week they're living together."

"I'll drink to that," Bob said. "In the meantime ... all that talk of getting fucked over by the King of the Gypsies has made me kind of horny."

"You want a bit of rough, asshole?" Randy grinned. "You got it. Get naked ... now."

As it turned out it Steve's plans for Lloyd had to wait a week or so. The termite fumigators delayed the tenting of Lloyd's house, but when they finally got their act together Lloyd packed a few bags and set out for Steve's house. As he drove up Laurel Canyon toward Mulholland his mind raced with conflicted feelings.

There was no doubt that he lusted for the handsome therapist, who looked exactly like Randy ... except that he was a sophisticated, preppy version of the rugged construction worker. In fact, Lloyd could not deny that he lusted for a lot of men, which is why he was now driving to Steve's house. In an impromptu therapy session he had confessed to Steve that he was addicted to sex and beautiful men, and Steve had come up with a very unorthodox therapy plan.

Lloyd's sexual compulsion was one reason he was selling his house and moving away from West Hollywood ... away from the sexual temptations of Boystown. For the week that his house was being fumigated he had planned to move into the West Hollywood Ramada, but Steve felt that would be like the chicken moving in with the foxes, so he had invited Lloyd to move in with him for the week. The catch was that it would be an abstemious week ... no sex for the whole time ... a kind of practical extension of his addiction therapy.

As Lloyd sat waiting at the traffic light at Mulholland he recalled Steve's words exactly. "We already know we get along well, Lloyd. We can be social, take in a movie, go to a ball game, do the usual guy things. We'd be regular buddies, and sex would not be part of the picture. No fooling around, no masturbation ... nothing. You're a monk for a week. There's just a chance that going cold turkey could help you control your obsessions. You get it?"

`Yeah, easy for you to say,' Lloyd thought. But he knew that part of the excitement he felt was the thought of spending a whole week with this gorgeous man, being close to him, watching him, touching him. No, dammit! No touching. As Steve had said, "Believe me, Lloyd, it will be torture for you, but it's the kind of torture you need to live through. And I'll do everything I can to help you succeed," he laughed, "even if I have to tie you up to keep you from touching yourself."

Lloyd was not sure about this at all and, as he pulled up to the gate at the end of Steve's driveway he hesitated to press the button on the intercom. The Ramada suddenly seemed a lot more attractive right now. He was on the point of driving away when the intercom crackled and Steve's cheerful voice said, "Hi, Lloyd. Been waiting for you. Here, I'll open the gate."

The gate swung open and there was nothing for it but to drive on through. But as he neared the house Lloyd said out loud to himself, "Oh, shit. Look at that. This is never gonna work. That is so fucking gorgeous."

Coming round the side of the house was Steve, shirtless in baggy cargo shorts and old sneakers with no laces. He must have been gardening as his muscular physique was gleaming with sweat and streaked with dirt. His handsome, grimy face broke into a dazzling smile as he came up to the car. Lloyd's cock was rock hard as he lowered the window and looked up at the stunning man.

"Er, Steve," he stammered. "I'm not sure about this. It's just not gonna work. Shit, the first sight of you and I almost cream my jeans. Right now I've got a boner that won't quit."

"Of course you do," Steve laughed. He spread his arms wide, showing off his magnificent torso. "What's not to like? I usually leave a trail of erections behind me wherever I go."

The playful exaggeration made Lloyd laugh in spite of himself. Boner aside, he really liked this guy. And he realized what Steve was doing ... confronting Lloyd's lust head on and making fun of it.

"Come on," Steve said, "pop the trunk and I'll get your bags." Steve pulled out the bags and, playing the part of hotel porter, said formally, "I'll show you to your room, sir. Follow me."

`Follow me!' Lloyd thought. I'd follow that anywhere. He gazed at Steve's broad back, muscles rippling from the weight of the bags, powerful legs striding away from him toward the house. Inside Steve led him to a room with a view over the Hollywood Hills. "Here you are, sir. I think you'll be comfortable here."

"I doubt that somehow," Lloyd smiled. "It's gonna be torture living so close to you."

"That's the plan, old buddy," Steve laughed. "All part of your therapy. My room's down the hall. Here I'll show you."

He led the way to the master bedroom, a generous room with one wall of French doors looking over an infinity pool with a stunning view of the city. The morning sun streamed in, lighting Steve's body to perfection in a golden glow.

Lloyd sighed deeply. "Man, I'm sorry to go on like this, but you are so fucking absolutely gorgeous. Brings tears to my eyes."

Steve threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah, but you should see me when I've cleaned up. Talking of which, I'm going for a swim. Join me when you're ready." He kicked off his sneakers and dropped his shorts, and again Lloyd gasped. Steve was wearing black Speedos underneath that clung to the perfect globes of his bubble butt.

As Steve walked out to the pool Lloyd felt weak at the knees and sat on Steve's bed breathing deeply. He realized that the bed was unmade. It was just as Steve had left it when he got up that morning, rumpled sheets, clothes strewn on the floor, and thin cotton shorts and a tank top on the bed that he must have slept in. Instinctively he reached for the shorts and was pulling them to his face just as he heard Steve's shout.

"Hey, Lloyd. Come on in. Water's great. Come and get wet."

"I almost did," Lloyd murmured to himself as he felt pre-cum dribbling down his leg. He threw the shorts back on the bed and shook his head. "Jesus, this is gonna be harder than I thought."

Mulholland Drive runs along the spine of the Hollywood Hills, and Steve's house had views of the city, the hills and part of the Valley. It was a perfect spot and as Lloyd settled onto a chaise by the pool he tore his gaze away from the man sunning next to him and cast his architect's eye over the house. "Very nice," he murmured. "Perfect location, great house."

"Yeah," Steve said. "Took a whole lot of therapy sessions to pay for it, too. I was thinking of adding another room on the side there ... maybe even a small guesthouse."

"That's doable," Lloyd said. "I'd be happy to draw up preliminary plans for you if you like."

They fell into a long discussion of houses, architecture and real estate and realized once again how much they had in common and how closely their values matched. Lloyd became so engrossed that, even though he was lying three feet from this beautiful man, stripped down to Speedos, he suddenly realized that his cock was no longer hard ... for the first time since he arrived.

There was a silence and Steve smiled at him, reading his thoughts. "See, Lloyd. There are other reasons to like me besides my body and my face. It's starting to work ... though I think you have a long way to go."

He was dead right about that. The two men spent a companionable afternoon, went out for dinner, then came back and, as it was a hot night, sat by the pool sipping brandy before bed. Pretty soon though Steve stood up and stretched. "OK, lights out for me. I'm bushed ... I'm gonna hit the sack. `Night buddy. Nice day ... I'm glad you're here." He touched him lightly on the shoulder as he went into his bedroom.

Lloyd went into the house too, but suddenly realized he had left his watch out by the pool. He went back out and was about to return when he glimpsed Steve in his bedroom getting ready for bed. He stood in the shadows watching as Steve moved around the room. The big glass doors hid nothing and the room was softly illuminated by subtle spot track lighting. As Steve walked back and forth the spots caught him at different angles, highlighting first his face, then various parts of his body. "Jesus," Lloyd thought, "even the lighting is sexy."

He watched mesmerized as Steve began to undress. He had dressed casually for dinner and now kicked off his loafers. Lloyd took a sharp intake of breath as Steve pulled off his Polo shirt, revealing his perfect chest and shoulders, stunningly lit by a couple of the spot lights. Lloyd's hand went down to his crotch and he stroked the bulge under his slacks. He felt a pang of disappointment as Steve disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

But he was back in a few minutes, still naked to the waist. He stretched his arms upward, which made his gray underwear just visible above the narrow waistline of his jeans. After a series of stretches he dropped to the floor. "Oh, shit, no," moaned Lloyd as he saw Steve doing push-ups, his back, arms and shoulders flexing with the pumping routine. Then he sprang to his feet and stretched again, looking in the mirror, flexing his muscles in self-admiration. He sat on the end of the bed and pulled off his socks, then stood and unbuttoned his jeans.

Lloyd was beside himself and his cock was raging as he saw Steve's jeans fall to the ground. Steve stepped out of them, now wearing just tight gray boxer briefs. Again he stopped to admire himself in the mirror and Lloyd thought, "Jesus, he sure knows how beautiful he is. He's getting off on himself." Still gazing at his reflection Steve pushed down his briefs and smiled as his cock sprang out, semi-hard. He grabbed it and stroked it a few times, running his other hand over his chest.

Evidently, though, he'd soon had enough of himself as he suddenly left the mirror and went over to the bed, which was still unmade. He picked up the crumpled white shorts lying there and pulled them on, then threw himself onto the bed, lying on his back with no sheet over him as the night was so warm. Lloyd stood there in a trance, then shook himself and, a bit embarrassed, walked quietly into his own room.

Lloyd stripped naked and fell into bed. But it was no good ... he was miles away from sleep. He tossed and turned, with the image of the naked muscle-god etched on his brain. Normally, he would have jerked off and then fallen asleep (something he did most nights), but that was one of Steve's rules for him this week... no masturbation. He pounded the pillow and tried to sleep but it was no good. Steve was sleeping near-naked a few yards down the hall and he had to see his glorious body one last time.

Almost as if he were sleep-walking he walked silently along to Steve's room and stood in the open doorway, gazing down at the bed in awe. The lighting had been turned down low and Steve's perfect body was bathed in a soft golden light. Lloyd's heart pounded as he fantasized on a glorious warrior, laid out naked, ceremonially as if for sacrifice. The beautiful face, the tanned, muscular physique gleaming under the light ... perfection.

Steve moaned as he moved slightly in his sleep, running his hands down over his body, coming to rest on the bulge in his shorts. Without thinking Lloyd took hold of his own rigid cock and began stroking it, moaning out loud. Hypnotized by the glorious image he said out loud, "Oh God, he is so fucking gorgeous."

"Yeah, you look pretty spectacular yourself, dude."

It was as if a jolt of electricity ran through Lloyd as the voice jerked him back to reality. Steve had apparently been woken by Lloyd's moans and was now smiling up at him. "You look damn hot standing there naked ... that face, that body. You know, Lloyd, you spend so much time admiring other guys you forget what a knockout you are. If you weren't so goddam hungry all the time you could have whoever you want."

Lloyd's blushes were visible even in this dim lighting. "Man, I'm sorry but I couldn't do it ... with you in here, looking like ... oh shit, I'll never get over this fixation on beautiful men ... and you, Steve, are absolutely one of the best. We'd better call this plan quits."

Steve sat up. "OK, I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but I do have a plan B. If you go back to your room you'll be jerking off all night. So you're gonna sleep in here."

"With you!? Steve, that's the craziest idea I've ever ..."

"Be quiet. I'm the boss here, Lloyd. Let me show you. First, put these on." He threw over to Lloyd the gray boxer briefs he himself had recently taken off."

Stunned, Lloyd pulled them on, feeling the warmth of Steve's crotch still lingering in the fabric. Steve picked up his own tank top lying on the floor from the night before and sprang to his feet. He pulled Lloyd's hands behind his back and quickly tied his wrists with the shirt, pulling the knots tight. He stood facing the startled architect.

"Now, you sleep here with me all night, but we don't touch and, more to the point, you don't touch yourself. Those shorts are tight so if you get a boner ... and I'm sure you will ... it'll be held in check. In any case, you won't be able to work your hands free so you won't be able to touch your cock. You get the picture, Lloyd? You sleep all night beside me, with all that sexual temptation, and for once in your life you don't cum. Call it shock therapy, call it what you like. But it's the only way.

Already Lloyd felt his cock swelling in his shorts and instinctively he pulled at his bound wrists, longing to touch it. "Oh, man," he groaned. "This really is torture ... I have to touch my cock. You don't know me, Steve."

"I'm beginning to, though Oh, and by the way," he grinned, "if you need to scratch your nose or anything, wake me up and I'll do it for you. Shit, man, you're hard work. Now I'm bushed so I'm gonna sleep, and so are you. So lie down, shut up, and try not to think about the man sleeping next to you."

Steve threw himself onto the bed and pulled Lloyd down beside him. Then he turned on his side, away from Lloyd, and closed his eyes. "Night, Lloyd. Don't forget about the nose thing."

In a few minutes Steve was asleep. But Lloyd wasn't. His agony had just begun.

The bed was a big California king-size so staying apart was no problem physically. Emotionally was another matter. Lloyd stared at the ceiling and willed himself to stop thinking about the muscle-stud breathing softly next to him. As Steve had predicted, Lloyd's cock was rigid in the tight briefs and he felt the fabric chafing at the sensitive head. Again his reflex was to pull at his bound wrists behind him, but the frustrated effort only made his cock throb even more.

He turned his head and looked at the glorious face on the pillow beside him. By now Steve had turned onto his back and his sculpted chest rose and fell as he slept peacefully. Lloyd's eyes moved from his face to his broad shoulders, over his rounded pecs, over his six-pack abs and down to the waistband of his cotton shorts. They were pulled low so a few strands of pubic hair poked over the top.

Lloyd averted his face and closed his eyes. `The man is such a fucking stud,' he thought. God, he wanted to touch his cock. Just one touch would get him off, he knew it, as his cock throbbed painfully. He pulled helplessly at his wrists. He had to look again, and this time he stifled a gasp.

Deep in sleep Steve was smiling and moaning softly, his hand resting on his chest. Must be having some kind of dream. Lloyd watched as Steve's hand moved slowly downward, over his stomach until it came to the shorts and pushed under the waistband. "Jesus, Lloyd though, his hand is on his cock. Is he gonna cum?"

Lloyd wondered what the dream was. Was he dreaming about him, the man lying beside him. Lloyd started to fantasize. Maybe Steve would shoot his load in his sleep dreaming of him. Maybe he would wake, untie Lloyd and they would finally have sex and Steve would fuck him. "Yeah," Lloyd thought to himself. "Oh yeah, beat that meat, Steve, make it hard, then fuck me with it, man. Fuck my ass, Steve. Make me cum..."

And he did cum ... the erotic fantasy was too much and Lloyd shoot his load. His cock pulsed hard, strained against the briefs and exploded in them, spreading a huge sticky stain over the gray fabric. He pulled desperately against his bound wrists, his head tossed from side to side, and he pursed his lips in a determined effort to stay silent. Breathing hard, he looked anxiously at Steve, but it was OK ... he was still sleeping. Apparently his dream was over.

Lloyd felt like weeping. As he felt the sticky dampness in his groin he knew he had failed the test. He had shot his load even without touching himself, he had been so turned on by the sight of Steve sleeping beside him. His breathing subsided and he suddenly felt exhausted. The intense emotional strain of the day had drained him, drained his cock, and at long last he fell into a fitful sleep.

Lloyd had no idea how long he had slept, but when he woke the first thing he felt was his rock hard cock pressing against the soaking briefs. He must have dribbled even more cum in his sleep, as his groin was soaked in semen. Instinctively he turned his head, then moaned softly, "Oh, Jesus Christ, no more, please."

Steve was lying on his stomach, butt naked. Lloyd guessed, correctly, that he must have gone to the bathroom to piss and taken off his shorts before he got back into bed. Lloyd had not really seen his naked ass up to now, and his eyes opened wide as he gazed at it ... the sharp tan line at the waist, then the pale white globes rising up from the waist to form a perfectly shaped bubble butt. Lloyd watched mesmerized as a bead of sweat ran slowly down Steve's spine, over his waist and came to rest at the crack of his ass.

Fast asleep, Steve's arms were stretched upward, his face turned sideways pressing against his hard bicep. He was turned toward Lloyd, his heavy breathing wafting into Lloyd's face. Steve's upstretched arm exposed his armpit level with Lloyd's eyes. Lloyd watched sweat trickle in his black armpit hair. The musky smell of it blended with Steve's warm breath.

The sensation was intoxicating. Lloyd's hands were still tied tightly behind him, but he had to get closer. As he gazed at the stunning sight of the glorious body stretched in sleep he slowly moved closer to Steve's arm until his face was almost touching the hair of his pit. The scent of his sweat was strong now as it trickled from the dark hair onto his arm.

As he breathed in the smell of this spectacular man's body Lloyd lost all control. He stretched out his tongue, it touched the coarse hair and he tasted a drop of sweat. Throwing all caution to the wind he inched forward until his face was buried further into the tangle of wet hair. He tasted the man, smelled him, was overwhelmed by him. His body went rigid and he felt hot liquid pour from his cock. For a second time he was pumping a huge load in his shorts.

Snapping back to reality Lloyd hastily withdrew to his own pillow and tried desperately to calm his shaking body. Steve stirred and, half-asleep, murmured softly, "You OK, buddy?"

"Sure," Lloyd managed to say. "Go back to sleep." Instantly Steve's steady breathing resumed and he was fast asleep.

Sun was already streaming in through the French windows when Steve finally woke. Groggily he opened his eyes and tried to focus. He looked up and his face broke into a smile. Standing by the bed was a shamefaced Lloyd, hands still bound behind his back. He was naked except for gray boxer briefs that clung to him damply, a huge stain at the crotch.

"Man, are you a sight for sleepy eyes!" Steve said. "You look hot, Lloyd. Fucking gorgeous ... especially with that huge cum stain on your shorts. What happened, man?"

Lloyd blushed, couldn't make eye contact. "I creamed my shorts twice during the night. I swear I didn't touch myself. Just looking at you made me shoot my load ... twice."

Steve laughed. "Well thanks for the compliment, man. Hell, you must really like me."

Lloyd frowned. "You're not mad? I thought the deal would be off."

"Nah, you didn't jerk off, or anything. You didn't break the rules. Hey, sometimes our cock has a mind of its own." He leapt out of bed. "Come on Lloyd. It's the weekend. Time to relax, get to know each other. But first things first ..." he looked down at Lloyd's shorts. "....you need a shower, man."

And they did relax ... even Lloyd. And they did get to know each other. In the kitchen they worked together making breakfast ... Lloyd did coffee and toast while Steve cooked an omelette. As they sat over breakfast chatting animatedly Lloyd quickly forgot his embarrassment from the night before. They both wore shorts and T-shirts and, for the first time in hours, Lloyd's cock was not fully erect.

"Let me show you the house properly," Steve said. "I need an expert's advice on the extension I'm planning." Soon they were deep in discussion, one professional to another. "Thing is," Steve explained, "I was thinking of a guest house so I could maybe rent it out. I'm carrying a high mortgage and could sure use the extra income." Lloyd explained in detail how a one-bedroom extension could work, and even gave a rough estimate of the cost.

As the day got warmer Steve said he had to finish off the gardening he had been tackling the day before and Lloyd offered to help. They stripped off their T-shirts and knelt side by side. As they tore at weeds their bodies ran with sweat and by this time Lloyd's cock was raging hard again. But somehow, the hard work and easy conversation blunted the effect of his erection and he accepted it as normal ... it kind of went with the territory being around Steve.

As the day wore on they relaxed totally in each other's company. It was as if they'd known each other for years. Steve had a couple of bikes and they took a long ride along Mulholland, shirtless, luxuriating in the warm sun and the magnificent views on either side. Later they shared the cooking duties for dinner and as they ate they watched a show on TV that was a mutual favorite.

It was late when they sat in Steve's bedroom sipping wine, and when it came time for bed it seemed natural that they would share the bed again. Neither one questioned it, though Steve did say with a smile, "I don't think I have to tie you up tonight. Same rules though. Think you can handle it?"

"Sure. I'll still have a boner all night, but those two orgasms last night were a one-night deal."

And so they slept side by side without touching. Lloyd woke once or twice, with the expected hard-on, but when he looked over at Steve he smiled at his sleeping buddy and felt something for him that was no longer raw lust.

The next day was more of the same easy companionship and they came to realize ever more strongly how much they liked each other. They took in an afternoon Lakers game at the Staples Center and then tried to decide on a movie to go to. Steve mentioned a new release but Lloyd protested, "That one got stinking reviews ... `laughably bad,' the L.A. Times said.

"Sounds perfect," Steve grinned.

The reviews turned out to be right on. As they drove home they couldn't get over it. "Now that was what you call a real piece-of-shit movie," Steve laughed. "Some of the crappiest dialogue ever to come off a keyboard. Come to think of it, must have been written by a computer. What the fuck were they thinking?!"

They were still laughing later as they relaxed in bed, sipping wine. Lloyd said, "And what about the guy at the end? Was he supposed to have come back from the dead, or something? Didn't he die in the first ten minutes?"

"No," laughed Steve. "It was the movie that died ... just after the opening credits."

Lloyd laughed so hard he started to spill his wine, so he reached across Steve to put the glass on the side table. As he did so his chest brushed Steve's and their faces were inches apart. Their laughter died and there was a sudden stillness as they gazed into each other's eyes. And Lloyd was swept by a sensation he had never felt before. His cock was probably hard, but he didn't notice. This wasn't really a physical sensation ... not really. Mostly he just looked deep into Steve's eyes in a way he had never looked at a guy until now.

He saw himself reflected in the soft blue eyes smiling back at him. He felt he was losing control ... but again, not really. This time he knew exactly what he was doing ... he had to. He leaned forward and brushed Steve's lips with his own ... not hungrily as he usually did with guys, but softly, tenderly. He kissed his forehead, then his eyes. Then he spoke. "I think I'm in love with you Steve."

"Good," Steve smiled. "It's about time. So show me."

Lloyd eased himself off Steve's chest, pushed his legs back and pressed the head of his cock against his ass. Usually, with other guys, it was Lloyd who got fucked ... and he had fantasized about Steve fucking him. On the few occasions when Lloyd did the fucking it was always purely physical, pounding the ass until he shot his load. But this was different ... completely.

He felt his cock slide easily into the ass of this beautiful man, a man he liked, admired ... a man he loved. This was not carnal desire. He would have hesitated to use the work spiritual ... but that's what it was. His eyes did not leave Steve's the whole time. He felt the warmth in his groin, the throbbing in his cock, but those physical sensations were at a distance ... in the background.

What was immediate was the look in Steve's face, the soft, loving half-smile in that beautiful face. Lloyd whispered, "I love you, man. I've never loved anyone before. It's incredible."

"I've been waiting for you to say that, asshole. God, you feel good inside me."

It went on for a long time, Lloyd's cock easing gently in and out as they drowned in each other's eyes. Lloyd leaned forward and ran his tongue over Steve's lips. Steve opened his mouth and Lloyd clamped his open mouth tightly over it. They breathed in and out through their mouth, sharing the same air, one exhaling while the other inhaled. The sensation was intense, intimate, intoxicating. They were breathing life into each other. They were joined.

Finally Lloyd broke free and whispered, "I never knew it could be like this. It's gonna make me cum inside you, Steve." Steve's face seemed to change, had a glow around it somehow, as Lloyd felt his juice pouring deep inside his body. Steve was still smiling as his own cock began streaming thick white cum over his gleaming chest.

They couldn't stop gazing at each other. It was true. It was transcendent. They were in love.

A few minutes later as they lay in each other's arms they just took it for granted. There it was ... it was meant to happen. And there was absolutely no doubt. They were in love.

After a while Steve spoke. "When you sell your house, where will you go next?"

"I was thinking of looking for a place on Mulholland, if I could afford it."

"This is Mulholland."

"Are you offering to rent me your guest-house?"

"No."

"A room?"

"No ... half a bed. With me in the other half." He grinned ... "Forgive me for asking that hoary old therapist question but ... How do you feel about that, Lloyd?"

Lloyd smiled at him. "Sounds like a plan."

The news quickly filtered down to the house on Mt. Washington and was greeted with wild approval by all the guys. Darius especially, of course, was launched on a wild ride of fantasy and speculation.

"They'll probably be looking for a houseboy!"

Zack smacked him lightly behind the head. "Cool it, punk. You belong to me, remember?"

"Sorry, sir," Darius grinned and pressed himself against Zack's chest.

Zack needn't have worried. Darius's fantasies about Steve and Lloyd were not to last long. They were replaced, overwhelmed, by the next chapter in his life.

In the early evening, a week or so later, all the crew had left the construction site except for Randy and Darius who were going over some plans in the trailer office. Randy looked up at him and said, "OK, punk, no need for you to stick around. I'll finish up here. I know you're straining to get to the gym. I'll only be here for another hour or so. So get your ass out of here."

"Thanks boss." Darius grabbed his gym gear and ran out to his truck.

Some time later Randy was rolling up the plans, ready to close up for the day, when his cell phone rang. As soon as he heard Darius's excited, conspiratorial voice his body tensed.

"Hey boss," Darius said in a half whisper. "You'll never guess. Remember a few weeks ago when I told you about that gorgeous guy I met at the gym. What was his name..."

"Hassan?" Randy growled.

"That's the guy. A real muscle-god. Anyway he's here again and guess what? I think he really likes me. Wants to get together. He suggested we go to my house. Would that be OK with Zack do you think?"

"Hell, no, asshole." Randy felt the icy clarity of cold anger seize him. "Now listen. And get this right, kid. You agree to take him home. But instead you bring him here ... to the site. Make some excuse ... tell him you need to stop off to pick something up. I'm the only one here ... which is just as well. When you get here I'll take over. You make yourself scarce. This has nothing to do with you."

"OK, boss. Got it." But as he walked back over to Hassan Darius said to himself. "Huh ... Make myself scarce. No way. This I gotta see. Should be one for the books."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength ... Part 94"